As an Earl Desires (23 page)

I
t
amazed Arch how quickly he'd settled into the routine of his
old life. He was once again simply Archibald Warner. Untitled.
Common. Plain. Mr. Warner to his students.

He was teaching again—as his father had
taught before him. In the same classroom he'd used before
he'd gone on his grand adventure. That was how he now thought
of the time when he was away. As his grand adventure. His eyes had
been opened, and as his father had said, once opened, when again
closed, the mind still saw what the eyes had viewed.

His father had possessed a myriad of sayings. In
retrospect, Arch was beginning to wonder what his father had seen,
had experienced that al
lowed him to have such
insight in order to realize that not everything a man learned was
appreciated. And that there were some things he was better off not
knowing.

Arch stood before his desk, listening as a young
man stutteringly read one of Shakespeare's sonnets, obviously
having difficulty not because he didn't know the words but
because he couldn't decipher the meaning of the passage. Arch
thought of Camilla reading her first sentence. It was more
difficult to read when the words coming together weren't what
was expected, and thus made no sense. It confused the mind.

“Mr. Warner?”

A young gentleman on the back row was waving his
hand as though his arm were caught in a heavy gale.

“Don't interrupt, Mr.
Newman.”

“But, Mr. Warner, sir—”

“You'll have your chance when Mr. Ford
is finished.”

“But Lady Sachse is here, sir.”

Arch felt as though the boy had bludgeoned him. He
jerked his gaze toward the window, but the sunlight created a
glare. If he couldn't see out, how did the boy?

His student was no doubt playing a prank or sadly
mistaken. Still Arch walked to the window for a clearer view and
sighted the lady in ques
tion. He felt as though
his ribs were caving in, and his heart was fighting for freedom. He
could see her carriage parked a distance behind her as she strolled
elegantly over the lawn.

What in the world was she doing there? It had been
over a month since he'd left her, a month of trying to forget
her, a month of fighting to remember every little detail about
her.

“Can we go see her, sir?”

“No, Mr. Newman, you may not. You are,
however, responsible for maintaining order in this classroom until
I return.”

He told himself not to hurry, not to give the
impression that he was anxious to see her, but his feet seemed to
be moving independently of his mind. Which he supposed was a good
thing as he wanted a private moment with her before others were
rushing out to greet her. She was a heroine of sorts around there.
She'd sent the twenty thousand pounds he'd given her to
the school, with a note that it was to be invested, the additional
amount it earned to be used for scholarships for those who
couldn't afford to attend the school otherwise.

Obviously, with her upcoming marriage to the duke,
she no longer had a need for the provision he'd made for her,
and while he was well acquainted with her generous nature and knew
the school was grateful for the endowment, he'd preferred
thinking that he'd managed to do some
thing for
her
, something
no one else had done.

As he neared, his feet finally slowed, perhaps
because his heart was thundering so loudly. He'd not
forgotten how lovely she was, but to see her in person rather than
only in his dreams was bittersweet. He wondered how he should
address her: my lady or Your Grace.

He dipped his gaze to her hands, looking for
evidence of a ring, of her marriage having taken place but as she
was wearing gloves, he couldn't discern the state of her
life. He'd hoped if their paths ever crossed again,
she'd at least look happy. Instead, she looked at him as
though he'd deeply disappointed her.

“Hello,” he managed past the knot that
had risen in his throat. “I'd never thought to see you
again.”

“So I gathered,” she said. No icy
haughtiness wove its way through her voice. Rather she sounded
incredibly sad. “We'd made a promise to have no more
secrets between us, but you knew when you left for London that
they'd found the earl.”

“Yes, I thought it best to greet him myself,
alone.”

“I never took you to be a coward, slinking
away in the dead of night without even a proper
good-bye.”

It had hardly been the dead of night. Still
she'd
made her point. He considered
taking a page from her book, hiding the truth behind a wall of lies
so as to protect himself, but in the end, he cared for her too much
not to be honest.

“I feared if I went to see you that I
wouldn't have the strength not to ask you to marry me, and
that would have put you in the awkward position of saying no and me
in the dreadful position of having to pretend that I hadn't
died on the inside.”

“So certain were you that I would say
no?”

“Camilla, I can't make you a duchess. I
can't even keep you as a countess. Marriage to me would strip
you of your title. You would no longer by my lady…well, you
would be
my
lady but that is hardly the
same thing.”

“I can't make you a father…so
there.”

She'd delivered her statement with her
no-nonsense hard edge she'd used when first he'd met
her, but there was a subtle difference to the delivery that he
couldn't quite fathom. Not a challenge, but rather an
acceptance.

“It is hardly the same thing. I can live
quite happily without being a father. As you have stated for as
long as I've known you, you have no wish to live without a
title.”

“I told you that I couldn't live
without respect, and yes, there was a time when I associated
respect with a title; but that was before you taught
me to read. You changed the way that I viewed myself.
You gave me a wondrous gift, Archie. And then you broke my heart by
not realizing that I was no longer the woman I'd been when
first we met. I thought you loved me.”

“I do. Not a moment passes that I don't
think of you.”

“You told me that if I searched for love, to
one man I would be the most important person in his
world.”

That seemed ages ago, another lifetime, when
he'd lived with hope in his heart and romance in his soul.
“And you are the most important person in my world, but it is
a very small world.”

“I would rather rule in a small world than
not rule at all.”

He stared at her, trying to decipher what surely
must have been a riddle. “Did I hear you correctly?” he
finally dared to ask.

“I can't speak to what you heard, only
what I said.”

Ah, that was the Camilla he knew, striving to
distract him, suddenly fearing that she might be the one to be
hurt.

“What of your duke?” he asked.

“Apparently I was mistaken about the
aristocracy knowing little of love. He believes it is worth
fighting for, so here I am doing battle when I haven't the
proper arsenal.”

“Oh, my dear Camilla, you not only have the
proper arsenal, but victory was yours the moment you stepped upon
the field.” He dropped down to one knee and took her hand.
“Will you honor me and grant me my heart's desire by
becoming my wife?”

Tears pooled in her eyes, rolled over onto her
cheeks. Releasing a tiny gasp, she nodded before dropping to the
ground and winding her arms around his neck. “I thought
I'd die when you didn't come back for me.”

He rocked her back and forth. “Oh, my
darling, forgive me. I thought I was giving you what you
wanted.”

“Well, you thought wrong.” She leaned
back, her face awash in tears. “I can't carry a tune to
save my life so I doubt that my voice will ever delight you, but I
love you with every fiber of my being, and I want you to hold me
near for a thousand years.”

He cupped her face between his hands. “I
shall hold you near for eternity.”

With tenderness and heartfelt devotion, he kissed
her, tasting the salt of her tears, knowing they were from joy not
sorrow or fear. He wondered how he'd ever thought that he
could live the remainder of his life without her by his side. What
a sad and lonely existence it would have been.

Suddenly it was as though he were once again
whole and complete. She was the reason his heart beat
and his lungs drew in air. As though the world agreed, he heard
shouts, claps, and laughter.

Drawing back, he discovered that the boys from his
classroom surrounded them.

“Lookee! Mr. Warner was kissing Lady
Sachse!” Mr. Newman shouted, pointing with glee.

“Oh, no,” Camilla said, smiling
brightly. “Mr. Warner was kissing the soon-to-be Mrs. Warner,
and it's a title I shall proudly wear as long as I
live.”

 

The people of Heatherton were all a-titter because
the Duke and Duchess of Harrington had come to Heatherton for the
wedding. Camilla had planned on a small gathering for the ceremony,
but once Archie's mother had begun making a list of guests
who simply couldn't be overlooked…well, by the time she
was finished, the entire town received an invitation. The
advantages and drawbacks to being married in the village church
where Archie had grown up.

Camilla had arrived at the church in the
duke's own coach, and she would leave in his open carriage,
with her husband at her side. Now she and Rhys stood outside the
door waiting to hear the music that would herald her arrival. She
wore an elegant white gown with a long train. She held a bouquet of
pink roses.

“You look beautiful, Camilla,” Rhys
said quietly.

She glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

“The Marlborough House Set won't be the
same without you.”

She laughed lightly. “I shan't miss it.
Isn't that odd? When there was a time when I so desperately
wanted to be part of it.”

“I'm certain the Prince of Wales would
welcome you should you decide to mingle in London.”

“Undoubtedly. His gift to us included a note
saying almost precisely the same thing. I was always welcome. But
it's no longer what will make me happy. Nor would it make
Archie happy. I love him so much, Rhys.” She placed her hand
on his arm. “I never realized why you and Lydia risked so
much to be together. Until now. Nothing is more important to me
than the man who waits for me inside the church.”

“I daresay there is nothing more important to
him than you.”

“I only hope that he won't come to
regret that he won't have children.”

His face split into a devilish grin. “There
is an old wives' tale I once heard that passing beneath an
arch can cure many an ill. I venture to guess that tonight
you'll be beneath an
arch
.”

“Oh, you naughty man, even to suggest such a
thing.” Had any other man spoken to her thusly, she would
have been offended, but she and Rhys had a long and intimate
history, and although
she'd never visited
his bed, she knew many of the women who had.

Looking away, she felt the heat suffuse her face.
She suspected that he was quite right. She would indeed be beneath
Arch tonight.

Hearing the music vibrating through the organ
pipes, she took a deep breath and placed her hand on Rhys's
offered arm.

“Are you ready, Countess?” he
asked.

It was strange to hear him address her with a title
for the last time. Once she exchanged vows with Archie, she would
once again be a commoner, although she suspected that he'd
never view her as common.

“I am ready to shed myself of all the
trappings of rank,” she said without remorse.
“I've never been more happy or sure of the path that
I'm about to follow.”

“He is a fortunate man, Camilla. If I were
not madly in love with my wife, I would envy him.”

She pinched his arm. “Envy him
anyway.”

His laughter accompanied them into the church, then
fell silent as the immensity of the occasion dawned upon them both.
The church was packed to the rafters, and she thought that even the
nonreligious were in attendance. But she barely noticed the crowd
once her gaze fell on Archie, waiting for her. Winston stood beside
him to serve as best man.

But all she could think was that she was getting
married to the one man who could truly make her happy. He was so
handsome standing there that he took her breath, and she was hardly
aware that she walked beside another man up the aisle.

In truth, she was hardly aware of walking. She felt
as though she'd fallen into a dream, but she knew that
she'd never awaken from it. That with Archie, if they never
had anything beyond this, still they would have
everything
.

“Who gives this woman?” the minister
asked.

“I, the Duke of Harrington, do,” Rhys
said.

Then Rhys was gone, and she found herself beside
Archie, her hand nestled in his.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly.

“I am sure that I love you. I am sure that I
wish to spend the remainder of my life with you. Beyond that, I am
sure of nothing.”

“You've given me all that I ask.”
He turned to the minister and gave a nod.

“Dearly beloved…”

The words flowed forth with resonance and purpose.
The ceremony seemed at once brief and too lengthy, vows exchanged,
a simple gold band placed upon her finger, a tender kiss pressed to
her lips. And then the words that it seemed she'd waited
forever to hear.

“It is my honor to present to you Mr. and
Mrs. Archibald Warner.”