Page 74 of The Gentlewoman Author

“I know my worth. You do not need to convince me of it. But I am not a gentlewoman. I am an author who writes somewhat scandalous novels. I do not need marriage to make my life worth living.”

“Of course not. But would you like to be married? Because I would like to love and adore and cherish you.”

“This makes no sense.” She edged away from him. “I see. Louisa left, and now you need me to obtain your true love, Almery.”

“No. I love you and want to marry you.”

“Your parents agreed to this?”

“I don’t need their approval. I have money, not enough to buy a castle, but we can live comfortably. Perhaps we’ll go to Nottingham, and I’ll resume my work with Smith’s Bank. Or travel for a while.” He remembered Louisa. “What do you wish?”

She sat up. “No castle?”

“What is a castle without a queen? Now, let me put this on your finger⁠—”

“Daniel, no.” She inched away from him. “You will not be happy without your castle. It’s your dream, your future.”

“You are my dream.”

“I am not suitable. I write romances. I am not the gentlewoman you expect me to be.”

“You can be any sort of woman you wish. I want you the way you are, without pretense or efforts to curb your tongue or bridle your behavior.”

“How did you know?”

“What? That you hide what you think? Do you know how closely I’ve watched you? Since the moment of our first meeting, I have been unable to take my eyes off you. When you say something out of politeness, you squint and take hold of your locket.” Her soft lower lip quivered, and her gaze fell from his. “Right now, for instance, you are thinking how I should not be in your room. Probably because you’re also thinking of kissing me.”

Her eyes flew to his. “I am not!”

“No more lies between us, Lady Mary.”

She relaxed into a smile, her fingers losing their hold on the blankets, but her face tightened again. “If we marry, you will resent me. You worked your whole life for Almery.”

“As soon as you left, it became as hollow and cold as a cave.” She snorted, and it made him laugh. “I am telling the truth. But you will have to pardon my incompetence when it comes to words. This is foolish, but without you, the castle had no light, no warmth. I cannot be where you are not.”

She looked at her hands, out the window, at the writing desk. With his finger on her cheek, he turned her face to his. “To quote your hero from A Woman Who Loves, ‘You are my life. My soul is restless without you.’”

She leaned toward him, a slight move, but he hoped it meant something. His hand still rested on her jaw, and he slid it behind her head, his fingers tangling with her hair. There was no need to pull her toward him. She came, meeting him halfway, and with an answering fervor. She pulled his collar toward her, and Daniel understood the word sublime.

Mary opened her eyes in the darkness of morning content, save for one thing only. Daniel’s landau. The destruction of the equipage had niggled at Mary’s contentment ever since she’d seen it ruined. She wanted to give him something, a token of her dedication. Restoring the carriage to him would pale in comparison to his abandonment of Almery. To obtain a carriage as a wedding present…well, the idea sent a thrill of pleasure down her spine. He belonged to her, was central to her life and she to his. A second chance at love, and she would treasure every moment with him, the good and the bad.

On the previous day, Mary saw an advertisement for a used landau in a local paper. She slipped out of the room with a prayer on her lips that the innkeeper sat at his desk. He did, and she asked the distance to Brimington.

“It’s less than three miles away.”

Mary released a slow breath. Not far.

“I would like to borrow a horse.”

She left a note for Daniel, telling him she would return soon and not to worry. Thus, before the sun fully emerged, she sat aside Jinx, the borrowed horse, who trotted with terrific speed down the country road and had no trouble taking direction. They arrived in town and found the address written on the advertisement.

She arrived at a sprawling house with the incongruous appearance of having been under construction for generations. The butler opened the door and glowered over a long, pointed nose at Mary.

“Good morning. I have come to speak with Mr. Patterson on very urgent, important business.”

He disappeared without inviting her in, but in a few moments, a gentleman appeared.

“I am Mr. Patterson. How can I help you?”