Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

M artin had not called on the house party, for he did not want to be delayed and nor did he want to disclose his errand to everyone, lest word of it reach Jessica and raise hopes that might prove to be false.

He had sent a message from the local tavern and Haverford had come in response, listened to his story and his deductions, and returned to Hollystone Hall to fetch a good horse and enough clothes for a few days.

“One day took us to Warwickshire, to Colyton’s estate,” he explained. “There, we found that the Dowager Lady Colyton had died, and Colyton’s daughters had been moved from the dower house to the main house. Colyton’s four daughters.”

Haverford took up the story. “The new Lord Colyton was nearly beside himself. He’d had Christmas plans that were quite inappropriate for four damsels, one nearly of age to be a debutante. He was too decent a fellow to abandon them when their grandmother had just died, but he was very keen to tell his troubles to two interested gentlemen.”

“Haverford suggested that we might have the solution to his problem, but he insisted on speaking with the Colyton ladies first, so Colyton sent for the four of them. He kept repeating, ‘Are you certain you want the baby?’ Of course I wanted the baby! That was what I had come for.”

And Martin was glad of it, for the girls and Jessica clearly belonged together. They were sitting on a sofa, the three girls all dressed in sombre black gowns that were a trifle small for them, Elizabeth on one side of Jessica, Johanna on the other, and Margaret, with Catherine on her lap, beside Johanna but holding Jessica’s hand.

The girls had been told that Jessica had abandoned them, but easily believed that she had been driven away, and that her letters to them must have been intercepted. “Papa was a mean person, and so was Grandmama,” Johanna had said.

Haverford took up the tale. “Once I’d discovered that the girls wanted Jessica just as much as Jessica wanted the girls, I suggested that Colyton might want to pass guardianship to Jessica.”

“Haverford!” Jessica gasped. “The girls are mine?”

“You have legal custody of them,” Haverford told her. “I am their guardian of record. At least for now.” He gave Martin a smirk, knowing perfectly well that Martin intended to propose as soon as he could get a moment alone with Jessica. Which he figured might take a while.

Martin ignored the smirk, and Jessica’s focus was on her daughters, so she didn’t see it. “Haverford insisted on dragging a lawyer away from his Christmas to write up the papers,” Martin told Jessica. “The old Colyton had made no provision for them, so Colyton was responsible for them as their nearest relative. He has signed them over to you and Haverford, Jess— Lady Colyton, so it is all right and tight.”

Jessica’s beam was somewhat watery, but there was no doubting her joy. The reunion had brought a lump to his own throat. “You realise, Findlater,” Haverford had said to him, “that you will be taking on four new daughters if Jessica agrees to marry you.” Martin couldn’t wait. Catherine had wormed her way into Martin’s heart, as had the other three girls.

“We are thrilled for you, Jessica,” said Cherry. “Margaret, if you could only know how Jessica has pined for you all. You remember me, do you not?”

“You are Auntie Cherry,” Johanna piped up. “We stayed here with you once before, when I was only little. You had many other children staying here, too.”

Cherry’s smile broadened. “Quite right, and we have even more children here now, Johanna. Jessica, bring your girls with me, and we shall see about rooms. I think there is a suite where the five of you might stay together. And the nursemaid.” She smiled at the girl who was perching on a chair in the corner.

Six of them in a suite. Martin suppressed a groan. There went any plans he might have had to make a private visit to Jessica’s rooms. Haverford shot him a smirk.

“Come along, Lord Findlater,” said Cherry. “We’ll find a room for you, too.”

They put him in the room that Jessica had vacated. That was hopeful. At least he wasn’t sharing. And she knew where to find him.

But he had no opportunity to suggest that Jessica pay him a visit. For the rest of the day, she wouldn’t leave her daughters. By evening, Catherine had accepted her as part of the family, though Margaret was still clearly the infant’s stay and security, as Jessica was for her stepdaughters. All three older girls hovered near Jessica and Johanna clung.

It rained for most of the day, but the evening was clear, and Winshire had organised a display of fireworks to bring in the New Year. Jessica and her little flock went off to bed. “But Margaret and I will sit up until it is time for the fireworks, and then we shall wake you,” she assured Elizabeth and Johanna, both of whom were afraid to miss the display.

And there they all were, just before midnight, bundled up warm and out on the main bridge from the house to the manor’s extensive water gardens. No. Not all. Margaret saw him looking and must have guessed at the question in his mind.

“Catherine is fast asleep, Lord Findlater. We left her with the nursemaid.”

“Quite right,” said Chloe, who walked up to his side, with Dom behind her. Dom had their son on his shoulders. “Dorrie is asleep, too. She is too young to enjoy fireworks, and too young to know that she missed out.”

“They are about to start,” Johanna said, jumping up and down in her excitement, and for the next fifteen minutes, the rockets and pinwheels absorbed all their attention. Then it was inside for a hot drink and some sweet treats before mothers or fathers or both led happy children off to bed. At a Haverford-Winshire house party, nursemaids and governesses must have time on their hands.

And still, Martin had not had any chance to talk privately to Jessica. Perhaps tomorrow would be better.

However, thirty minutes later, as he was settling to sleep, he heard a sound. He sat up in bed and listened. Sure enough, there it came again. A tap on his door. In some house parties, he would know what to think. But this was a family party, with no bed hopping. Unless…

The thought had him leaping out of bed and hurrying across the room before the person outside could go away. And yes. When he opened the door a crack, in case he was mistaken, there she was.

“Jessica.”

She started talking even as she stepped toward him, and then past him and into the room as he moved out of the way. “I am sorry to disturb you. I needed to talk with you, and there does not seem to have been an opportunity.” It must have been a prepared speech, for she did a double-take at the end of it, when she turned to watch him close the door and turn the key, and realised what he was—or rather wasn’t—wearing.

Martin wasn’t embarrassed. He always slept naked, and Jessica had seen him that way before. Still, she said she wanted to talk, so he picked up his banyan from the chair beside the bed and put it on. “Come and sit down, Jessica.”

He indicated the two chairs by the fire, and squatted down to put a log on the banked embers, and to poke them back to life. “I wanted to talk to you, too. I’m glad you are here.” She had had a good eyeful before he shrugged into his banyan. She knew he was glad to see her. But he would not make assumptions about why.

“Would you like a brandy?” he asked, once the fire was sending out a bit more heat. She had not spoken. Perhaps she was having second thoughts, or perhaps she needed some liquid courage.

“A small one.”

* * *

J essica waited until he had poured them a brandy each and taken the chair opposite her before she spoke. She wanted all his attention when she asked her question. “First, Martin, I cannot begin to thank you enough for Catherine. It is a miracle beyond my hoping. Haverford was telling me you remembered an overheard conversation—the new Colyton mentioning four daughters, and from that you were prepared to cross the country for me, in winter. Thank you. Thank you a million times.”

He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze intent on hers. “I did not remember until after we had parted. I was on my way back to you, but I stopped to eat while changing horses, and I overheard another conversation, this time about someone else entirely. They used the same words, about a mother not leaving her child. It triggered something in my mind, but I wasn’t sure I remembered correctly. I did not want to tell you in case I was wrong. Thank God I was right.”

Tears pricked at Jessica’s eyes again. She had cried more this afternoon than she had since Haverford took her home, but this time they were happy tears. “I am so glad,” which was an understatement. “I am so grateful.”

Martin frowned. “I don’t want your gratitude, Jessica.” The next sentence was a mutter to himself, but she heard it, nonetheless. “This complicates matters.”

What did that mean? And what about the other thing he had said. “You were on your way back to me? Why?”

“Because I didn’t want it to be over!” Martin said, the words rushed and almost angry, as if they had been forced from him. Then, even as she felt herself tense at his tone, he gentled his voice. “I do not want it to be over, Jessica, but I do not want you to feel obligated to give me what I want. I want you to be free to choose. What do you want?”

Time to be brave. You can do this, Jessica. Martin won’t laugh at you or get angry . “I want you. I had already decided to chase after you to Yorkshire and ask you what I meant to you. Things have changed, though, Martin. I have four daughters to consider. I am not as free to choose as I thought.”

“What you mean to me?” Martin’s smile was warm, accepting. “You mean the world to me. Without you, I am a lonely glum fool, stolid and boring—”

“You are not a fool,” she protested. “Nor glum, nor stolid, nor boring.”

“Without you, I am,” he insisted. “Perhaps you will say we have only known one another a few days, but what days they were, Jessica. We spent all our time together. We talked, we played, we worked side by side. I know you far better than any lady that is not a relative, and I know that I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know viscountess is a step down from countess, but—”

Once again, Jessica interrupted him. “Wait. Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Of course.” Martin looked bewildered. “What did you think… You thought I wanted an affair?”

“I have four children,” Jessica pointed out.

“Four children I am already beginning to love,” said Martin. “You are their mother, though only one of them was born to you. I could be their father, if they would have me. If you would have me.”

It was the greatest inducement he could have offered her, did he know that?

Yes, he did, for he added, “But don’t marry me for that. The children, even Catherine, will grow up and marry, and leave home. You and I will be together for our whole lives.” He slipped forward and off the chair to kneel at her feet, picking up her hands. “Marry me, and be my love, my wife, my viscountess, my partner, my friend—today, tomorrow, and always. Not for me, because you owe me. Not for the girls, because they need a father. For you. Because you want to me as your love, your husband, your partner and your friend.”

Jessica could not speak for the sobs lodged in her throat. Happy sobs. Martin must have thought she was hesitating, for he said, “If you cannot say yes, at least do not say no. Let me court you. Let me prove I can be trusted.”

“Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I have your permission to court you?”

“Yes, I will marry you, Martin. I love you, too. That is why I was going to Yorkshire. I love you, Martin.”

“And I love you. My love. My Jessica. My darling.” By the time he reached the last words, his mouth was on hers, and they spoke very little, except for endearments, directions, and exclamations of pleasure, for the next hour.

“I must return to my room, in case the children need me,” Jessica said, afterwards.

“I shall walk you back to your room,” Martin decided. “Marry me soon, darling. I sleep better when you are in the bed with me.”

“It is the same with me,” Jessica confided. “I will marry you as soon as it can be organised.”