Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mercy slept for most of the afternoon, only waking when Dorothy brought her a tray of tea and broth with a roll. “Mrs. Johns says you might have some bread, madam, but first you need to have the broth. Doctor’s orders.”

Her stomach had roiled since she’d awakened, so she was in agreement with this plan. “Thank you, Dorothy.”

Mercy sat up in bed, pushing the pillows behind her until she found a semblance of comfort, then let the tray rest over her legs. The room was dim—only a small fire graced the hearth, the sunlight disappearing quickly behind the hills. She sipped at the broth and tea for a good while before nibbling on the bread, feeling better as her stomach filled with warm food.

Dorothy tidied the room before slipping away without building up the fire, leaving Mercy in the quiet. She found it strange, but the bed was plenty warm, so she did not call Dorothy to return. Her headache had abated somewhat, the broth and rest both going a long way to make her feel better .

When a light knock came at the door, she wiped her mouth, then lowered her napkin to her lap. “Enter.”

Colin appeared, standing in the doorway. “Are you feeling better?”

“A little, yes. It’s only this wretched headache, but I believe it will go away soon. It is already much improved.” She lifted her tea and took a sip.

He opened the door fully and nodded to whoever stood behind him in the corridor.

Lewis and Duncan entered the room, carrying a large cut log between the two of them.

Mercy put down her teacup. “What is all this?”

“Our Yule log,” Colin said simply. “I did not think it wise for you to leave the room this evening, so I decided we ought to bring it here. We can enjoy it together.”

She was at a loss for words. The caring and thoughtful gesture was too much. “Oh, Colin.”

He looked at her shrewdly, crossing to stand at the head of the bed. The footmen situated the log in the hearth and left the room, closing the door behind themselves. “It does not upset you, does it? I asked Mrs. Johns to send wassail up, and Dorothy managed to bring in some garland while you were asleep, but if it is too much?—”

“It is perfect,” she said, her throat clogging. It was then Mercy looked at the fireplace mantle and noticed garland gathered on it, punctuated by brass candle holders with tall, white tapers. Bright green holly, dotted with red berries, was woven into the pine boughs. Now that she was aware of it, she could faintly smell the sharp woodsy aroma. It looked familiar—likely because she had made it. “Is this from the drawing room?”

“I removed everything you put in the drawing room and brought it here. Until the ceiling is fixed, I would feel better if we stayed out of that room. Next Christmas will be different.”

Mercy’s cheeks warmed. She knew she had made a mistake and underestimated the extent of the danger in the drawing room. That Colin had been thoughtful enough to retrieve her decorations and bring them to her made her entire body flush with warmth. “You’ve done this for me?”

He looked sheepish. “I should have shown greater appreciation for the work you did to make Winterbourne look so lovely for Christmastide. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, Colin.”

“Would you like to remain there while I light it?” he asked, looking at her with an edge of concern.

“I will join you.” She set the tray to the side. “We ought to take some holly from the garland.”

Colin came to her side, reaching for her hand to help her stand. She waited a moment for her head to clear, holding tightly to him. She had remained in the same gown she was wearing when the plaster fell, which meant she didn’t need to fetch a dressing gown. There was a slight chill in the air, but they would soon be sitting before a roaring fire.

He kept hold of her hand, leading her to the foot of the bed. “I will fetch a chair?—”

“You needn’t bother,” she said. “I do not mind sitting on the rug.”

He looked uncertain, so Mercy drew her hand from his and smoothed her skirt before sitting comfortably before the hearth.

Colin didn’t argue. He set to work, pulling a few sprigs of holly and pine from the garland and laying them over the Yule log .

“Shall we sing?” she asked.

“If you’d like.” Colin pulled out a lighting box and looked down at her. There was a peaceful expression on his face and his gaze was direct. “Do you have a song in mind?”

“Perhaps ‘The First No?l’ would be appropriate.”

His lips quirked up on one side, flashing the dimple she loved so much. “You may lead us.” He crouched and lit the kindling while Mercy started singing.

The song filled the room, Colin joining his deep voice with Mercy’s soprano as the fire grew. Once he was certain the fire had caught, he moved to join Mercy on the rug. They finished their song as the log caught fire, the holly and the pine burning quickly after four days of drying out.

Fire crackled when the song was over, the only sound in the room the popping of the log.

“Merry Christmas, Mercy,” he said quietly, his gaze drawing away from the fire and landing on her. “You mentioned earlier I ought to have chosen a different wife—that Sophia is biddable and beautiful.”

Her stomach constricted, and she felt an anxious pattering in her chest at this shift in the conversation. During their contentious arguing, she’d felt a steady thrum of fear, wondering if he would agree with her. They had not consummated their marriage after all, which meant it was possible—difficult and unlikely, but possible— to obtain an absolution of their marriage. She had grown to care for Colin over the span of their short marriage thus far. She had admired him for so many years, but her feelings had grown with the simple steps he’d taken over the previous weeks to show her he cared enough to try. Weeding in the garden with her, taking her to Bath, their dance at the assemblies .

She did not want for him to find any reason to leave her—physically or emotionally. Even so, she could not pretend to be anything other than who she was. “I am many things, Colin, but biddable is not one of them. I can heed instruction?—”

“Can you?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, reasonable instruction, yes. I will admit that our communication could be greatly improved. If we had only spoken more, discussed our reasons, perhaps we would have understood one another far sooner.”

“We are in agreement there.” He turned to face her better, his face glowing from the flames’ light. “In an effort to communicate better and avoid further misconceptions, it is important to note that I never desired a biddable wife, nor did I expect you to be such. My preconceived notions of what the mistress of Winterbourne ought to be did not mean I expected you to do everything I asked, Mercy. It was merely an expectation of how you would step into that role, not how obedient you would be.”

The distinction was important, and she appreciated it.

Colin reached for her hand, holding it in both of his. His thumbs brushed against her knuckles, his eyes glued to them. “You are perfect, Mercy, just as you are. You are kind, you are charitable, you make me laugh—all important things according to Lady Edith and, if I am being honest, important to me. My aunt must have known precisely what I both needed and wanted when she wrote that letter.” He lifted his gaze. “Above that, you are very beautiful. If I have given you reason to suspect I believe otherwise, it was unconsciously done. It has been a trial these last few weeks not to kiss you, but with how quickly we were married, I had hoped to allow you time to find your place here and become comfortable.” His cheeks appeared flushed. “I was attempting to be a gentleman.”

Her heart raced. Beautiful? So he had not put her off because he could not stomach the thought of kissing her? She blinked away the emotion clouding her eyes and hoped he could not feel the pounding of her pulse in her hand. “I did not know.”

“We have not had the smoothest of beginnings, Mercy. I do hope we can learn from our mistakes and find a way to make this marriage richer and better in the future.”

Given the way they had both improved already since their disagreement in the drawing room, she believed it was very likely they would find their way to an exceedingly happy and communicative marriage. If Colin had only been waiting for her to feel comfortable in order to kiss him, then Mercy believed she ought to show him exactly how comfortable she had become.

She turned her hand in his and tugged lightly, pulling him closer. He leaned in, as though he understood the directive, and she reached up to cup his strong jaw, her fingers gently laying against the skin of his cheek. He looked at her lips, and she knew at once she had not imagined the same earlier. “I have wanted to kiss you for years, Colin.”

He froze, his eyes meeting hers. “Years?”

“Yes. I’ve long had feelings for you, but I thought myself destined to remain a spinster. You seemed to have eyes for no one but your house.”

“It needed much of my attention,” he murmured, as though he was distracted.

Her heart panged, thinking of him alone in this echoing building, his family and servants leaving him for other, better places while he sacrificed so much to keep the estate intact. He deserved to have someone think of him, consider his feelings, and appreciate his work. “I love you, Colin.”

He searched her gaze, his breathing suspended. In a movement both fluid and swift, he dropped her hand and cupped her face, drawing her closer and pressing his lips to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed while waves of heat billowed through her. Time suspended as Colin kissed her, exploring her mouth while his hand slipped to her back, urging her closer. She no longer felt the heat of the fire nor heard the sound of the crackling log—nothing but the all-consuming feeling of being in his arms.

Mercy’s chest burst with warmth, her body flushing as Colin pressed his lips to her jaw and took her lips again. He held her steady while her heart threatened to explode, his lips tenderly brushing hers over and over again, each time a new angle. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, making her lightheaded with joy.

She leaned back, chest heaving, and looked at him.

Colin dropped his forehead to rest lightly on hers, his fingers pressing into her back. “That was well worth waiting for, Mercy.” He tilted his head to look at her. “ You have been worth waiting for. I love you. Can we begin anew?”

“I wouldn’t wish to forget the last few weeks. I greatly enjoyed my time with Lady Edith, and I think we both learned a great deal about each other that will prove useful in the years to come.” She grinned impishly. “I would not mind if you forgot the idea that you ought to wait for my approval to kiss me.”

“Consider it forgotten,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again.