“You’ll need a new horse,” Kendal said, moving toward the door. “I have just the one to get you there quickly.”
“Thank you.”
Kendal stopped in the doorway and turned to face him. “I’d be pleased to count you as family.”
Edmund smiled at him, but only nodded in response.
“It is, however, up to my stepmother.” He pivoted and continued out of the room.
Yes, it was. Edmund followed quickly, eager to find out.
Chapter 11
The rain started just after Genie arrived at the Bell and Whistle in Lancaster. She cursed the sky, then begged it to stop. Wet, muddy roads would add at least a day to her journey. She wanted to get to Edmund now.
What if he’d ended up pursuing one of the other women at the party? Perhaps he was even now contemplating marriage to Mrs. Makepeace, or Genie’s friend Lettie. No, Lettie would have told her. She’d written recently, and there’d been no mention of Edmund.
Mrs. Makepeace, however, was a distinct possibility. Or another woman who’d been at Blickton. There was no telling what had happened after Genie had left early. Actually, there was, because Cecilia and written to her. There’d been no mention of Edmund matching—or being interested in—anyone.
Genie’s stomach growled, reminding her it had been some time since she’d nibbled on something in the coach. Her maid had gone downstairs to check on dinner. Hopefully, she would eat soon. Then sleep, then get back on the road to Edmund.
A knock on the door of her room startled her. Why would her maid not just come in?
Genie rushed to open the door, a question on her lips. “Why—”
The words died on her tongue as she took in the welcome—but quite sodden—form of Edmund.
“Good heavens, Edmund! You’re soaked!” She pulled him into the room and steered him toward the fireplace.
“Good evening, Genie. It’s good to see you too.”
She heard the humor in his voice. “You need to warm up.” In reaching for his coat to help him take it off, she froze. There could be only one reason for him to be here, couldn’t there? “How did you know I was here?”
He took off his hat and sailed it toward the corner. In its rather damp state, it didn’t go very far. His gloves, already removed from his hands, followed the hat.
Edmund shrugged his coat over his shoulders and stripped it away. “As it happens, I have been at Rotherham’s hunting lodge the past few days—it’s rather near here.”
“Oh.” So this was a coincidence? She took his wet coat and went to hang it on a hook near the door. Turning, she saw that he’d sat in a chair by the fire and was removing his boots.
“This morning, I rode to Lakemoor. I arrived this afternoon. Unfortunately, you were not there.”
Her heart sped as she picked up his boots and stood them near the hearth. “Why did you come?”
Edmund clasped her hand. “You think I need an heir, but I don’t really. I have one, and I’ll educate him to be the earl.”
“But—”
He squeezed her fingers. “I don’t need any children of my own, not if it means not having you. I’m hoping Titus won’t mind having a stepfather.”
Genie’s throat constricted. She wasn’t sure she could speak. “You want me as I am?”
“Yes. The question is whether you want me, childless as I am.”
“I have been a mother and a wife. Anything else—especially you—is a gift I’m not sure I deserve.”
He stood and caressed her cheek. “Why would you think that? Everyone deserves love, even a second time.” He grazed his thumb along her jawline. “You especially. You’ve lost so much.”
The ache in her chest seared for a brief moment before changing into something bright and beautiful. “I’ve also gained a great deal. I have a wonderful stepson. I take it he told you where to find me?”
“He surmised you would stop in Lancaster for the night. I am pleased to find he was correct. He said you were on your way to see the gentleman you preferred, or something similar. I am fervently hoping that is me.”
She nodded, pressing against him. “It is.”
Edmund put his arms around her. “He also told me about Sterling. Poor chap.” He shook his head pityingly.
“Do you really feel sorry for him?”
“Not in the slightest. God, Genie, when I think you might have said yes…” He tightened his hold. “Why didn’t you?”
She twined her arms around his neck. “Because I love you. Having married for love once, I find I cannot do it again without the same depth of emotion.”
“You can’t love me the way you loved Jerome,” he said quietly, with perhaps a touch of sadness.
Genie cupped the back of his head. “Not the same way, no, but just as fiercely. You’re sure about not having a child of your own?”
“You are what I need.” He looked into her eyes, his lips curling into a wry smile. “I was a fool not to tell you that at Blickton. Twice a fool, actually. I saw you when I was twenty, and I was instantly smitten. But I was a young buck on my way to travel the continent, and you were the toast of the Season. I didn’t think I had a chance of winning you.”
“You didn’t even try?”
He let out a low, sharp laugh. “I told you I was a fool. Then, when you arrived at the house party, I was overcome with surprise and joy. It was as if Fortune had given me another chance. I should have told you then what I am here to tell you now, that I love you, that I have loved you, that I will love you until the end of time.”
Genie couldn’t breathe. For a moment, she felt as though she was betraying Jerome, to love this man before her as keenly—but differently—as she had him. “Oh, Edmund.” She kissed him, pressing her body into his and realizing she was now becoming damp from his wet clothes.
Laughing, she pulled back. “You’re getting my dress wet,” she said, laughing.
“Then I shall just have to remove it.” He lifted his hands to her face and gently held her. “Will you marry me, Genie? I realize becoming a countess is a step down, but—”
“Shh.” She put her mouth on his and kissed him soundly. “Now you’re being silly.”
He smiled against her lips. “Perhaps.”
She could hardly believe their fortune at finding each other. “You can truly accept me as I am?”
“I am honored to have you exactly as you are. Just please tell me that I will be enough, that you’ll give me the chance to make you happy.”
Impossibly, love filled her heart, joining with the love she still held for Jerome, for Titus, for Eliza. “You already have.”
Epilogue
February 1811, London
Genie reviewed the names on the guest list for her annual start-of-season ball. Old friends, new friends, family—it was the only Society event Titus attended. He’d become reclusive and unapproachable in the years since his father’s death. Not to her and Edmund, of course. To them, he was a loving son and still the light of her heart.