Page 111 of Holding Onto Love

Chapter Thirty

The cottage was small. It was terribly small. Jasper’s chest constricted as he imagined Vanessa, the woman he loved, reduced to this.

At least, it appeared in good repair. The paint was relatively new, and the thatch was not rotting. A diminutive garden on the side of the house, one that appeared utilitarian rather than decorative, was not overgrown with weeds. Vanessa must be able to afford a decent groundskeeper. Still. God. Still.

He had to duck beneath the lintel to follow her into her home.

There was no entry hall. One stepped directly into what must be the parlor. It was empty of anything except a single worn chair, a cold hearth, a lamp, one small table, and a bookshelf—one shelf with fewer than a dozen books—on the otherwise barren walls. It was a devastating sight.

“Vanessa—”

“Come into the back. I’ll make some tea.”

If she noticed his perturbation, she called no attention to it. He followed her into the back room, a small kitchen of sorts. Here he had more of a sense of her presence. The windows were open, and a floral breeze wafted through. Vanessa gestured to a chair next to a table covered with a prettily embroidered square of linen. There was a bowl of wildflowers in the center. He sat and watched her stir the embers of a stove, then set a kettle on top.

She was perfectly at home here. And that made him feel hopeless. If this was what she wanted, he had nothing to offer. Vanessa could not be swayed by his wealth or his title—of course, he’d always known this. He could give her nothing but himself.

He was asking her to give up her way of life for him when he had never truly considered giving up his for her. Yes, he’d claimed he would abandon his newfound interest in politics, but in truth, he needn’t. There were many lords in Parliament who had been involved in scandals far worse than falling in love with a mistress. The sacrifices would all be on her part.

She sat on the second chair and murmured, “It will be a few moments.”

Her answer must be no, or she would have put him out of his misery at once with a yes. He did not want to hear no. Not yet.

He reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved a tissue-wrapped gold chain with a tiny sapphire. He’d recognized it the minute Crispin put it in his hands.

“Crispin found this. By the lake.”

She unwrapped it carefully, then tears stood in her eyes as she said, “Oh, thank God. I thought I’d lost it forever.”

“The clasp is broken. I would have had it fixed for you but…” But it wasn’t his place. She had been wearing Henry’s gift, not one of his.

“Thank you, Jasper.” She wrapped it back into the tissue paper and put it into an empty teacup on her countertop. She regarded it quietly for a long moment. Then she faced him again, smiling wryly. “Safe for now. I’ll put it up later.”

“Tell me about your life here, Vanessa.”

“You mean, how have I gotten through the days?”

He nodded, a sharp ache in his throat. Had she gone through the motions as he had, only to be struck, over and over, by waves of sorrow?

“The daily activities of life take up more time than you might think when one has no servants. And I’ve made friends here.”

“Lydia?” His voice rasped with the effort to speak naturally. No servants? Was she trying to relive the experience of the Peninsula? Why? Was that the key to understanding her? Had he pushed too much of himself, his life, his friends, and his wants, upon her? “Crispin said there was a woman here that you knew. That’s why you chose Cartmel.”

She nodded. Then she said, “Jasper, I do want to marry you.”

“You do?” His heart jolted. He’d been prepared for a no. Now he waited for the but.

She answered with a whisper. “Yes. I do.”

“Vanessa!”

He leaped from the chair and dropped to one knee beside her, reaching, fumbling in his pocket for the ring he’d dared to bring. She let him slip it onto her finger. Then her words, her actual words, registered.

“You want to. But will you?” he asked.

“Yes. Jasper. Unconditionally yes.”

He kissed her hands, so, so very grateful, then the tender inside of her wrists. He stood up, pulling her into his arms and kissing her as he’d dreamed of doing, as he’d been yearning to do. Vanessa returned his embraces just as hungrily, making the mewling noises in the back of her throat that always drove him mad with desire. He kissed her neck, just beneath her ear, knowing what would arouse her, and when she clutched his shoulders and moaned his name, he lost all control.