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“No, you weren’t. You might have been a bit free with the ladies, but you weren’t like these people. You have a conscience.”
There was a long silence. Then her husband sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, at that. Some of the things they get up to are unpardonable, even for the likes of an old sinner like me.”
“When will I see Fanny?” asked the little girl—Abigail.
“I’ve already sent for your sister,” said Percy. “Until she arrives, you’ll stay here as my guest. As soon as Fanny gets here, you will both be taken to a safe place. A school. A nice school just for little girls like you.”
“Will we live there?” piped the child.
“Yes. You’ll like it there, I promise. The headmistress is a kind lady. She’ll make certain you are safe and well cared for.”
“Thank you, your worship,” said the little voice, followed by a sniffle that sounded clogged with tears. “Thank you for us both.”
Eden had heard enough. Turning, she quietly made her way back upstairs, bewildered by her own conflicted emotions. What manner of man have I married?
While she waited for Percy to return, she gazed around at his bedchamber. Their bedchamber. Clothing was scattered without care across the floor, and the bed was disheveled from last night’s lovemaking.
As she turned, she noticed a curious thing upon the wall to the right: a painting shrouded by a drape. It had been dark in here last night and this morning when he’d left. In her haste to get dressed and be ready for his longed-for return, she hadn’t noticed it. Walking over, she rose on her toes and twitched the cloth aside.
It was a shock to see her own face for an instant before the drape fell once more into place. Reaching up, she pulled the cloth down and away entirely, revealing a portrait of herself. The expression captured by the artist was of a young woman on the verge of tender laughter. In the lower corner, she read The Lady Tavistoke followed by the name William Hogarth.
Memory flooded back. Percy had commissioned this painting. Of her. And he’d hung it in his bedchamber. The words he’d spoken last night in the carriage replayed in her mind. He loved her, of a certainty.
Inside her, every door opened. Every window, too. Light shone in, illuminating every hidden corner and filling it to overflowing until she laughed aloud in sheer joy.
Her husband was such a mystery. His past was rife with black marks, to be sure; but his heart was of a better man than anyone would ever imagine.
Tears spilled from her eyes, and she wiped them away. Tired still from all the excitement and terror of the last twenty-four hours, she crawled once more into bed. Burying herself beneath the covers, she inhaled deeply. It smelled like warmth, love, and her Percy. Her eyes drifted shut.
“Eden?”
She blinked, confused. The light in the room was different. I must have fallen asleep. Stiff, she stretched and turned over to see her husband standing by the bed gazing down at her. “Is all well?” she asked, worried over the wary look in his eyes.
He nodded. “It is indeed. Better than it has been in a long while. Our discussion, earlier, I meant to ask you—”
“I can,” she interrupted, reaching up to catch his hand and hold it fast. “I can, and I will. Always. And if there is anything I can do to help, you have but to tell me.”
His eyes widened briefly, but then narrowed in suspicion. “You were listening, weren?
??t you?” he asked, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
“I heard what I needed to hear,” she confessed. “Just before you left, I was thinking that I did not really know who you were, but I was wrong. I’ve known almost from the moment we met. I know the man behind the mask you show the rest of the world. He’s a good man, a worthy man. He’s the man I love.”
Eyes like a moonless night stared into her. “And you are the only woman to possess my heart. Body and soul, I belong to you. There is no part of me that is not yours. I love you, Eden. I should have said it ages ago but I was afraid. First, that it would not be returned in full measure. Then I feared saying it last night, in case I died today.”
Tears threatened again.
Before they could form, however, his sobriety melted, giving way to a look of unrepentant mischief. “I’ve loved you from the moment you berated me for suggesting you sought an alliance with old Abingdon.” He laughed and it crinkled the corners of his eyes, lighting his whole face. “I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you. I waited far too long.”
“Perhaps, though not as long as you seem to think.” She pulled him toward her and held his hand to her heart. “You said it last night when you admitted to Papa that you set out to seduce me.”
His brow furrowed. “I did? Well, bully for me.” He sat beside her. “Tell me, did I succeed in my wicked design?”
She moved his hand lower, over her breast. “You have corrupted me in spectacular fashion, husband mine.”
A raffish grin slanted his mouth, the sensuous mouth of a hedonist, the tender mouth of a lover. Her lover. His voice was a low, inflammatory growl that set off sparks of need deep within her belly. “Darling, I’ve only just begun.”
Epilogue
