Page 72 of Truly, Madly, Daring

Muted voices had Emmeline turning towards the door as it opened.

“Thank you, Humboldt. Yes, I can manage.”

Wrexham entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“Wrexham,” Emmeline said before she moved, so he was aware she was in the room. He turned towards her and smiled, and she lost no time in rushing over to hug him tightly.

“What’s all this?” he said, laughing, closing his arms around her. “I wasn’t gone that long.”

“An eternity,” she mumbled into his waistcoat, breathing in the scent of him with relief.

“Don’t worry, pet. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable. According to Dr Boniface, I’m perfectly sane and he’ll give me a signed letter to prove it. I may have it framed,” he said, amusement in his voice.

“Oh, Rex, what else did he say?” Emmeline asked, too anxious to find her husband’s flippancy the least bit amusing.

“He said,” Wrexham began, cupping her face in his big warm hand and tilting it up to him, “that my wife is the wisest person I have ever met, and I ought to listen to her.”

Emmeline’s breath caught. “Why?”

“Because it was all a hum,” he said, shaking his head. “It was just as you said, my father twisting the truth to suit his own ends. My uncle did go mad, but that was as much because of his opium addiction and some truly awful treatment at the hands of those supposed to care for him than to his blindness.”

“Oh!” Emmeline said, pulling his head down so she could kiss him. “And may that be a lesson to you, vexing creature. I am always right!”

He laughed at that and lifted her into his arms, spinning her around. “Of course you are, Miss Milly. It was foolish of me to ever have doubted you. I shan’t do so again.”

He kissed her then, and for a long moment Emmeline could think of nothing at all. When he finally let her go, she gazed up at him, overwhelmed with happiness.

“We have a future,” she said.

“We do, and it’s all because of you, Emmeline. You’ve saved me, in more ways that you will ever know.”

“No,” she said, her voice thick. “You saved yourself, but I am so glad I was here to see you do it. You are the bravest person I know, my lord, and I love and admire you so much.”

“Pack it in,” he said gruffly, though his expression betrayed the pleasure he took in her words. “You’ll unman me if you keep this up. I almost sobbed when Boniface gave me the news. Don’t you set me off again.”

“Then I shall sob for you,” she said unsteadily.

Wrexham touched her face, wiping tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “My dearest love,” he said softly. “You are everything to me.”

“Oh, stop it,” she said, hiccoughing with laughter and tears. “I shall be in a puddle at your feet if you keep on, and that won’t do at all. Not when we must leave shortly.”

He nodded, and then frowned as his hands fell to her hips, his palms skimming the rich velvet. “Is that a riding habit?”

“Yes. It’s new. A lovely fawn colour velvet, trimmed with brown satin. I’m very pleased with it.”

“But why are you wearing it?” he asked.

“Because we are going to ride out together,” she said, hoping he would not baulk at the plan she had conceived.

“But I cannot ride,” he said. “Humboldt and I were going to take the dogcart and—”

“I know, but why can you not ride, Wrexham? Your limbs all still work, you are fit and strong, and your horse is not blind. He will guide you, and I will be with you, too. We shall stay close together and manage it all with ease. That is to say… if you wish to?”

Emmeline bit her lip, not having considered that he might not want to. She had only thought of how often he had ridden across his own land, and how it would chafe at his pride to have Humboldt drive him—and in the dog cart, of all things—but many of the tenant farms were unsuitable for visiting with a carriage, the roads too narrow or rough.

He said nothing for a long moment and Emmeline prayed she had not offended him.

“I had not considered,” he said slowly. “It never even crossed my mind that I could still ride, but—”