Regency Rakes 02 - Rescued By A Viscount (27 page)

“Will you let your new uncle hold you, Louis?” Claire questioned her nephew.

“Do you have food in your drawers, Belmont?”

Looking puzzled, Mathew went to his drawers and opened one. He found a small twist of paper containing toffee, which Claire knew was his weakness.

“Your uncle has food, Louis.” Simon said and laughed as the boy held out his arms towards Mathew. “He has a ferocious appetite.”

They watched Mathew hold the boy gently, settling into his chair as he opened the paper and fed the sweets to him one at a time. “You should have told me about your sleep problems, sister.”

Claire looked from Simon to Mathew, then back to Simon. “You told him?”
“You should have told him long ago, Claire. This was not a burden you needed to carry alone.”

“It was my problem. You had no right to tell him, Simon.” Claire said as she felt her old uncertainties rise.

“Why did you not tell your brother, Claire? Did you think it would make you weak in his eyes?” Claire tried to look away from the grey eyes before her, but Simon held her chin. “You are not weak, Claire. You are strong. What you have just done shows that. To heal the divide in your family, there must only be the truth now.”

She didn’t respond. Was he right? Should she have told Mathew and even her mother?

“You are no longer alone, love. I am here, but so are your family if you reach out to them.”

Looking up at him, Claire knew she had to tell him how much she loved him.

“I’m sorry, sister, for your loneliness. I would have stayed awake with you, had you given me the chance.” Mathew’s words were softly spoken, yet Claire heard them. “You are my sister, Claire, and I have loved you since the day you were born. To my lasting shame, I did not know you were unaware of that fact until now.”

“And I, Mathew, love you also.”

Claire could see the pride in Simon’s eyes as she and Mathew told each other what they should have many years ago. So much emotion rolled around inside her, she had to tell Simon how she felt about him right now, because he was correct; she could no longer hide herself behind the façade that had been Claire Belmont.

“Simon, I’m about to tell you something because I want you to know it, not because I expect you to act on it.”

He wrapped one hand around her waist and pulled her slowly closer.

“My brother and nephew are in the room,” Claire whispered.

“And are absorbed in each other. However, you had better be quick, as I fear Louis’s absorption will stop with the end of your brother’s toffee.”

“These last few days, Simon, I’ve come to realize something.” Claire felt the words suddenly stick in her throat.

“Just say the words, Claire.”

“What words?”

“The words.”

Her eyes held his for long seconds. “I don’t know how it happened, Simon.”
“How what happened?” He knew, she could tell by the twinkle in his eyes, but he was not about to make it easy on her.

“We’ve known each other for so long, and sometimes we could not even tolerate each other’s company.”

“In fairness, it was always you who could not tolerate my company,” he said.

“I was insufferable, Simon. I’m sorry.” Claire realized she had treated him badly over the years, and he deserved an apology from her.

“For the love of god, woman, will you just tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Claire said, trying to keep her expression innocent and give him back a bit of what he had given her.

“Claire.”

“I love you, Simon, so very much,” she said in a rush. “But I will not hold–”

His lips were hard on hers as he stopped her words, and Claire resisted for a second before melting against him. “I love you, too, Claire Belmont, forever and always. Now tell me you will be my wife.”
“I’ll be your wife, my love, as soon as we can arrange it.”

“Tomorrow,” he whispered. “I want to wake with you in my arms every morning from that day forth.”

Claire gave him that soft smile she had seen Eva give Daniel. The smile that spoke of love and hidden secrets only she and Simon would share for the rest of their lives.

“I cannot believe you coerced my butler into your household, Claire.”

Laughing, Claire hugged her brother, who returned the gesture freely. “Plimley loves me, Mathew. What can I add to that except the better Belmont won?”

“And I love you, too, sister.”

Standing on her toes, Claire kissed his cheek loudly. “And I you, brother.”

Releasing him, she walked around the room slowly, making her way to Simon.

A fire blazed in the hearth as outside snow blanketed the ground. This was their first Christmas as husband and wife, surrounded by their family and friends. They were all here. Daniel and Eva had brought Daniel’s grandmother who for the most part was behaving herself. Claire’s mother and brother were here, as were Simon’s aunt and uncle. Louis lay on the floor beside the fire, pulling faces at Georgia, who gurgled back at him. He was a different boy from the solemn one of a few months ago. He laughed and chattered now, and was loved by all who met him. But it was Simon and Claire he turned to when hurt or upset. He was their boy, and Claire knew he would be a wonderful older brother to their children when the time came.

Marriage was a revelation to Claire. Simon wasn’t a passive husband. He liked to talk to her, know what she was reading or thinking, and involve her in his day. He laughed loudly, sang off key, kissed and hugged her continuously, no matter where they were, and never since the day he’d declared his love to her had she doubted him. He was quite simply the most wonderful man she had ever known, and his love had changed her. She was now demonstrative. She, too, sang off key and danced with him in the dining parlor or garden if the mood struck. Just looking at him made something inside her go soft, and the feeling of belonging body and soul to another being filled her with joy. She’d existed before he came into her life; now she lived.

“I can tell by the faraway look in your eyes you’re thinking about something important, my love. Care to share your thoughts?”

Claire lifted her face for the kiss she knew would follow those words. It was soft and sweet and left her tingling all over. Slipping an arm around his waist, she rested against him. “I was just wondering how I lived each day without you.” She felt his lips in her hair as his arms tightened around her. “I existed, Simon, nothing more, before you. It is you that have taught me how to live and love.”

“But there you have it wrong, love. It is you that have taught me. I wake each day with you on my chest and wonder how I could have woken alone for so many years. With you, I am the man I want to be, Claire–your husband and Louis’s father, but more importantly, the man who loves you to the soles of his large feet.”

Claire didn’t brush aside her tears as she would have. Simon loved her tears, especially if they were tears of joy. Looking up into his eyes, she smiled at her beautiful man. “Forever and always, my love.”

THE END.

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Duchess By Chance
– (Regency Rakes – Book 1)

Avaliable now

Bedfordshire, England - 1812

Had the seventh Duke of Stratton the ability to choose the weather, he could not have matched his mood better than with the relentless fall of rain and grey gloomy skies that met his eye as he stared out the carriage window.

“Will we arrive soon, your Grace?”

Daniel was surprised to hear his wife’s voice, as they had not spoken since the journey began hours ago. Unclenching his fists, he drew in a deep, bracing breath, then looked at the carriage’s only other occupant.

“Under two hours.” His tone was cold and clipped.

She, too, looked out the window, her ugly black bonnet obscuring most of her pale face. Daniel actually had only a vague idea what she looked like as she had kept her head lowered ever since their first meeting at their wedding ceremony four hours ago. Her eyes were possibly blue…or green. He had only spared her a fleeting glance during the service. Her hair was stuffed inside the bonnet so it could be white as snow or flaming red for all he knew. And her dress, although he was not an expert in ladies’ fashion, was a drab brown with no shape, worn underneath a coat that had elbow patches on sleeves that began five inches above her skinny writs. At least he could never forget her name, although God knew he wanted to. Berengaria Evangeline Augusta Winchcomb. It was a cruel twist of fate that he, the Duke of Stratton - one of the most eligible peers of the realm - was now married to a timid mouse who jumped every time he made a sound.

“Is there a problem?” he queried as she sighed, her breath forming a small white circle on the glass pane before her.

“No, your Grace.”

Wife, he thought in disgust. Lord, how he hated her bloody heathen family. But most of all, he reserved a special seething rage for his own father and prayed daily the man was now residing in the hottest part of hell with Lucifer himself as a roommate.

“I…I, um…”

“Yes?” Daniel kept his eyes on the window as she stuttered. If she didn’t have the decency to look at him when she spoke, then neither did he.

“Tis nothing, your Grace.”

“It obviously is something, madam.”

He watched her reflection in the glass as her grey, gloved hands curled into tight fists in her lap, but still she kept her eyes averted.

“I have need of a rest break, your Grace.”

Looking at the landscape, Daniel searched for a landmark. “There is a small inn ten minutes from here. We will stop there.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel fought the cold knot of fury in his chest and the sudden urge to roar something foul at her. He was not his father and never would be; he kept his temper firmly leashed.

Spencer Winchcomb had tied him neatly to his only daughter, binding the contract so tight; Daniel would never have been able to escape even if he’d known of his impending doom before his father’s death. Well, now they had a title in their family but that was all they would get; he refused to have anything further to do with any of them, including his wife.

His friends had laughed when he’d told them he was leaving London during the height of the season to get married. No one had believed him - and indeed why would they have? Daniel had had trouble believing it himself.

“I have arranged for you to marry Miss Winchcomb.”

Daniel could still hear his father’s words echoing in his head. He had loathed his sire since he was old enough to realize the man who conceived him was a monster. The old duke had been a tyrant who had never bothered much with his only child unless it was to mete out punishment. Theirs had not been a relationship based on the bonds of love; they had basically ignored each other until the Duke of Stratton had summoned his son to his bedside to say his final farewell before he departed these fair if slightly chilly lands for the glories of heaven. Or, as Daniel now liked to believe, the eternal fires of hell.

“It was a promise made at her birth, a promise you must now honor.”

And with those fateful words, the duke had finally succumbed to an inflammation of the chest. There was no wife to mourn him or daughters to weep and rather than the relief Daniel had believed he would feel, he had instead been filled with burning rage. Even in death, it seemed, the old bastard would play a hand in his life.

“I shall be but a moment, your Grace.”

Realizing the carriage had stopped, Daniel opened the door and stepped down. He then turned to hold one hand out toward his duchess.

“Hurry!” he snapped when she did not move quickly enough. Grabbing her waist, he lifted her down. “I have no wish for my day to deteriorate any further. Run!” he added loudly as the heavens opened in earnest, although after what they had endured already today, a few seconds in the rain could do them little harm.

The proprietor met them at the door and ushered them inside.

“Tis my belief it’s setting in,” he said, to which Daniel grunted something in reply. After handing his wife over to a woman who came to assist her, he followed the proprietor to a small parlor where he slumped into a chair before the fire.

“Tis mulled to my own special recipe, my lord.”

Daniel nodded to the man as he took the proffered mug. Pushing his nose into the vessel, he inhaled the spicy scent. Taking a large mouthful, he held it briefly in his mouth, enjoying the taste of cloves and cinnamon before he swallowed and the warmth slowly filled his body.

Dear God, I’m married.
His mind kept repeating the words over and over again.

Want to read the rest?
Duchess By Chance
is available now.