Miles placed hands to her shoulders, kissed her forehead. “Kent.”
“Kent? What’s in Kent?”
“Maidstone is.”
“Who do you know in…” Her eyes widened. “You didn’t…”
He stepped from her and bent to a holdall aside a pot of pelargoniums. There he drew out a folder of papers. Returning to Verity’s side, he was aware he needed to choose his words with care and so paused. “I myself don’t care one bloody whit that you spent time in an asylum. You could have spent years there and it would not matter to me. But I know it matters toyou,Verity,and I will not have that. You fear the past might have consequences for an earl, that if it were to become known,it would invite scandal and slander. I want to allay those fears as best I can, wherever I can, so, yes, I rode to the asylum in Maidstone. I persuaded the director there to relinquish your folder and to allow me to tear your name from their registers. With a large donation, I hasten to add, and nothing untoward.” And he placed the folder within her hands. “Do with these papers what you will.” Her eyes became saturated with tears and Miles fretted he’d blundered. “I couldn’t tell you as I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get them, and I didn’t want to raise false hope. But I had to try. Your aunt gave me the location and, hell, don’t cry, I only wanted to– Have I acted in error?”
She flung herself into his arms. “Oh, Miles,” was garbled into his coat with a frantic shake of head
Thank hell.
“There might, I suppose, be someone who remembers you one day but…” He caressed her cheek. “It matters not to me. And whatever comes, we will deal with it together.”
Verity drew away, darted to the stove in the corner and opened the small door. A low fire crackled but it soon leaped as she consigned all the papers to the flames.
Not one by one, but the whole lot at once.
Corners curled. Blackened. Withered to ash.
The records of her past now bringing warmth and light to his Verity and her beloved plants.
Then she turned and her eyes glittered. Unafraid. Bright. Resolute. All he wished to do was kiss her until neither of them could breathe but a soldier knew duty came before desire and there was still the issue of…logistics to discuss. Words to be said.
“Come, sit on the chaise,” he said rather gruffly.” She complied with a slight frown yet Miles remained standing. Needed to march as he spoke. “On my ride home, I thought much on the matters you spoke of after Kew.” He enacted a swift turn on his heel and paced back. “And as I said, I won’t justdismiss them and say all will be solved in some fanciful manner, that there will be no grey clouds or times of difficulty, for I was a soldier and life does not work in such a way.”
His beloved blinked. And he thought maybe he was bungling it.
“So we will address them as best we can. Each and every day. Together. You mentioned the responsibilities of being a countess, yet…” He paused, kneeled before her and held her hand. “Verity, you have established a most capable and loyal household here. You have managed it all within your own bounds, sustained it and seen it flourish. An earldom is just the same but…bigger.”
Her lip quirked. “As in two hundred servants bigger?”
“Nearer three but…” He squeezed her hand. “We will adjust as you have done here. Knock out walls, build conservatories, put in a hundred windows, have barouches and get drenched. Together.” He kissed her palm.
“I–”
“And as for voyages. Do…do you yourself still wish to?”
“Yes! With all my heart but–”
“Then we will attempt them. I cannot promise it will all go smoothly but we will try, take it step by step. Just a voyage to the nearest meadow to begin with. It would still be an adventure, a glorious adventure. And if it fails, then we will think of something else, for…” He swallowed. “Most importantly, and perhaps I should have started with this, I lov–”
Her palm pressed to his mouth.
Dread filled the pit of his guts.
“It is my turn.” She drew her hand back and seized his. “With you, Miles, at my side, I feel…free. Unbound. For you listen to my worries and instead of dismissing them, you set about solving them.” Her voice caught. “I have been so wary of life since I was that young girl but you instil such…such a confidencewithin me…that together we can meet and deal with whatever comes.” Her gaze held his. “I want more than to live that wary life now, Miles. I want you. And I will not fear the change it brings but welcome it. Welcome the wonderful adventures with you.” A pause. “For I love you, Miles. I have always loved you.”
Miles extended a hand to the curls of hair that brushed her cheeks, his guts now filled with a deep abiding contentment. “I always adored your hair – black as cannon tar.”
“Erm, thank you.”
“Should I filch from Bryon or Shelley? They have better words than I.”
“Your own words are perfect.”
“Then my words are just this… I love you, Verity. But it is not the love of anIpomoea albathat blooms for a day and then withers. It was and always will be of the Amaranth, I named you – everlasting.”
