AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Matilda entered her bedroom, closed the door and woke her aunt up by gently shaking her shoulder.
“Are you well?” Florence asked. She looked younger, more vulnerable than Matilda had ever seen her aunt look.
“Yes,” she replied, but in truth she felt weary. A weariness that ran deep in her bones.
“I was so frightened last night,” Florence said. “I should have protected you. I should have—”
“It’s all right,” Matilda said. “You couldn’t have known.”
Her aunt seemed to want to say something more, but Matilda gave her a hug. No words were needed. She knew how the other woman felt.
“I think it’s time we go home to Meadow Cross.”
Her aunt nodded. “I think you’re right.”
* * *
Arthur sat in his study,staring at the stack of letters from his ancestor Devon Brynnwood that he and Matilda had found while clearing out the attic, remembering how such a tedious chore had been enjoyable in her company.
Stodgens arrived and stood in the doorway. “My lord… Miss Wells and Miss Matthews have returned to Meadow Cross cottage.”
Arthur sat up, pushing the letters aside. “What? Already?”
Stodgens shifted on his feet. “Yes, they thought it was best, given everything that has happened.”
“But the cottage is not ready. It still needs more repairs. They’ll have no—” Arthur halted hesitated and then made a decision. “Please send over at least a month’s worth of coal, firewood and food at once.”
“I’ll see it done,” his butler reassured him.
Arthur sank back in his chair. He felt listless, devoid of hope. He had hurt Matilda by letting Ezra get to her. He never should have allowed his friends to stay here. He never should have done a lot of things, and it had cost Matilda dearly. He had come to care for her more than he wished to admit. Hell, he might even love her, and he had no bloody idea what to do about it.
He stared again at the letters on the desk, desperate for a distraction from the pain in his chest, he pulled the stack toward him. He opened the topmost letter and began to read.
I am a wicked man.My appetite seemingly knows no bounds. There is an emptiness within me that no amount of indulgences can fill. I came to the Castleton Hall to find peace, to find myself. That is when I met her. An innocent woman who knows nothing of the man I was. She saw only a gentleman. A kindhearted stranger with no title or state, simply a man staying near her quaint little village. I have begun to court her, to woo her as though I’m in the first blush of my youth and not a seasoned rake of two and thirty. For the first time in my life, I’ve been able to redefine the man I wish to be.
People can change. I never thought I could, but love makes anything possible. I’ve chosen to leave the rake behind and offer marriage to the woman who stole my heart. I wrote this letter and the series of letters after it to tell my future sons and daughters of our courtship so that they can learn how I won the heart of their mother. She is my guiding star. I hope that our future children will be so lucky as to follow such starlight.
Devon Brynnwood, the Reluctant Rake
Arthur readthe letter a second time, his heart pounding. Could he be as brave as his ancestor had? Could he break away from the old patterns, the old friends, and marry Matilda? It would mean monumental changes to everything in his life. But the alternative… living a life without her… made his future seem bleaker and bleaker by the minute.
“Follow the starlight,” he said to himself, thinking of that star he had seen last night. Had Devon seen the same brilliant star when he’d written this letter?
Arthur opened the top drawer of his desk and dug through the papers and other objects until he found what he was looking for: a small, green velvet jewel box. He set it on the desk and used a small key to unlock it. When he lifted the lid, the heirlooms and gems of a century of Brynnwoods glittered in front of him. He carefully sorted through the priceless pieces until he found his mother’s ring.
The gold band held a sapphire stone surrounded by tiny diamonds. He smiled to himself as he remembered seeing it on her hand. She’d told him once that she would like him to give it to his wife someday. A young boy then, he had laughed at the idea of marriage. But his mother had been right. He was going to give this ring to Matilda and tell her all that lay in his heart.
He pulled a sheet of clean paper toward him and dipped the quill in ink, the sapphire and diamond ring sitting on the desk, twinkling in the light. He wrote every thought that came to him, every silly, hopeless romantic thing, but every word was true. Then he called for Stodgens to have his horse brought round. He had one more thing to deliver to Meadow Cross cottage.
* * *
Matilda wrappedher heavy woolen shawl tight around her shoulders as she stepped inside Meadow Cross cottage. So many repairs had been made to the house in such a short time that it felt almost new. Florence followed her inside and gasped.
“Oh Mattie, the wallflowers!” Her aunt pointed at their newly reframed paintings. They had called the art pieces “the wallflowers” because they were flowers quite literally hung upon the walls, but they also reflected the lives of people like herself, those unchosen shy girls who clung to the edge of the ballrooms when no one asked them to dance.
Her heart twinged with a deep, bittersweet ache. For two weeks she had not been a wallflower, but a rose blooming in the center of a wild garden. She had lived in the midst of the beautiful world that was Arthur Brentwood’s charmed life.
“Oh Mattie, look here!” Florence’s voice pulled her toward the kitchen. A new stove had been brought in, and even as they spoke firewood was being unloaded by two men in the back garden. Florence waved at them through the small window that overlooked the garden.
