Page 51 of Truly, Madly, Daring

“I dislike apologising,” he grumbled, scowling furiously.

“It’s awful,” she agreed. “But just think how much practise you’ve had the past few days. You’re quite the expert now.”

For a moment, she wondered if it was too soon to tease him, as his expression did not ease, but then his lips quirked.

“Wretch,” he muttered, pulling her back into his arms.

She let out a breath, relieved, and laid her head on his cheek. “Do you promise to be calm now?”

He drew in a deep breath and released it. “Fine,” he said, terse but resigned. “I’ll do my best, and… I’ll apologise,” he said, sounding as if the words had been dragged from him under protest.

“I’m so proud of you,” Emmeline said, hugging him tighter.

“I’m only glad you’re too short to pat me on the head,” he griped, but she heard the amused tone and was not disturbed by his grumbling.

“Well, now you are behaving like a rational human being, I think you ought to speak to Janet. I would have suggested it sooner had you not been thundering about the house like Hades come to drag us all into the darkness.”

“If I were Hades, I’d only take you, Persephone, and none of this six months of the year nonsense, either. You’re not getting rid of me now.”

Emmeline preened, rather delighted. “I should have insisted upon it, but never mind flirting with me. Will you be kind to poor Janet? You’ve scared her out of her wits with your behaviour this morning, and it’s taken me ages to persuade her to tell me what she overheard last night. And, I might add, she was only so terrified because she knew I’d tell you and you’d want to speak to her.”

“Of course, I’ll be kind to her. I’m not a monster!”

Emmeline regarded him silently until her stillness conveyed the message. He huffed out a breath.

“Now,” he amended, rolling his eyes. “I’m not a monster now.”

Emmeline kissed him for his honesty and went to fetch her maid.

18th of February 1845, Beverwyck, London.

Fred handed his dripping hat to a footman with an apologetic smile before stripping off his gloves. His heart was beating too fast, excitement thrumming under his skin in joyful anticipation of seeing his beloved. There was a virulent form of influenza doing the rounds at university; they had cancelled lessons now as over half the school was sick. Fred hadn’t been worried, being a large and robust sort of chap who’d never been ill a day in his life, but when his father had suggested he come home for a few days to avoid catching it, he’d not needed asking twice. Certainly not once he’d discovered his beloved was staying at Beverwyck for a few days.

“Fred?” The familiar voice made his already overexcited heart skip madly about in his chest.

Fred turned, breath snagging in his throat as he saw her, standing stock still, halfway down the magnificent staircase. Lord, but she tied him up in knots. Whilst she was not exactly beautiful, there was something compelling about her, something bright and quick that made his heart skip. It always had. Fred had loved her since they were children, fascinated by her and her outlook on life, which had seemed so very different from his own. They had fought like cat and dog at times, but never in his life had he known anyone so courageous, so clever and funny, so very loyal. Aggie had a mind like quicksilver. She was never still, always ready to do something new. To some people, she might seem rather stern, unfriendly, and even suspicious, but to the people she loved, she was full of mischief and the kindest person Fred had ever known. She was unlike any other girl he’d ever met, and he was going to marry her.

“Good morning, Aggie,” he said, struggling to keep the grin from his face.

“Whatever are you doing here?” she cried, running across the entrance hall to him to take his hands in hers. “You’ve not been sent down? Oh, Fred, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he protested, laughing. “Everyone is sick and there are no lessons until Monday. Father said I might come home for a few days.”

Her eyes widened with delight. “A few days!” she squealed, bouncing on her toes.

Fred knew she was restraining herself because the footman was still lingering like a bad smell, curse him. If they’d been alone, she would have thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him, or at least she would have done before he’d declared his feelings for her. Everything was different now. They weren’t just friends any longer. She had said that she loved him, too. He knew the words she’d chosen to tell him off by heart, because the letter was in his coat pocket. It had been there since he’d received it two days ago, for it seemed too extraordinary to be true and he needed to read the words again and again to reassure himself.

Dearest Fred,

How can such a clever fellow as you be such a big lummox?

Of course I love you too.

You daft ha’porth.

As love letters went, it wasn’t exactly a sonnet, but Fred didn’t care. It sounded exactly like Aggie and, when he read it, he heard her voice in his head. It was all he needed.

Fred gave the footman a speaking glance, and finally the man made himself scare.