The Complete Regency Surrender Collection. Louise Allen
his word. If she truly loved him, she would have to tell him the truth. But not today. The moment was too perfect to risk ruining it with talking.
So she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. This was truth as well. She liked kissing him. She liked being kissed by him. She liked the way it felt to touch him and to have him touch her.
‘You love me,’ he said, when their lips had parted. It would have been better had he declared his feelings for her. It was unfair of her to expect that. No matter what she had been telling him, he had known her but a few days.
But she had been watching over him for weeks, and in that time she had found nothing that was not admirable. She knew him now, better than she knew herself. Though it was not real, it was just the sort of marriage she could have wished for. ‘I love you,’ she repeated. ‘And, if you are not too busy, or too tired, I should like to go to your room now.’ She smiled into his chest, letting her ringed finger play with the buttons on his waistcoat.
He laughed. ‘I cannot imagine a better response to this gift, or a better way to celebrate it.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘In the days before the accident, did I tell you what a delight you are, my beautiful Justine?’
‘I do not recall,’ she said. ‘But you might say it all again, if it is true.’
‘Later,’ he said. ‘At the moment, I have a much more physical demonstration of my feelings.’
It was nearly a week since they had moved to the old manor and life could not have been better. Justine had grown so used to behaving as a wife to Will that it no longer felt like play acting. She loved the shared meals and the quiet evenings with lacework and novels. She especially loved what happened after, when she retired to her husband’s room. Even if they did nothing more than sleep in each other’s arms, there was a warmth more cosy than the fire in the drawing room and a peace stronger than she’d ever known.
All the same, Justine tempered her excitement at the arrival of her sister with a very real fear. Suppose Mr Montague learned of her plan and put a stop to it? She had been able to avoid him thus far. Three days’ steady rain had made walks in the woods impossible. She had persuaded Will to send a carriage to meet the coach in Cardiff, thus avoiding a chance meeting between Margot and their guardian at the local inn. But there were still so many things that might go wrong.
Suppose, once she arrived, Margot blurted out the truth, or asked embarrassing questions that could not be answered. She had shielded the poor girl from her sordid relationship with their guardian. Margot thought of him as nothing more than a rather silly older man. As such, she did not know why she needed protection. There was nothing more dangerous than not knowing of the risk.
Now that the day of Margot’s arrival had come, Justine was pacing the floor of the morning room, staring out the window for the approaching carriage. ‘You need not worry,’ Will said, taking her hands in his and kissing them. ‘I have persuaded Adam to send the barouche. The ride will be comfortable and the driver will take utmost care.’
Justine smiled at the thought. Margot must have started in disbelief at the sight of the Bellston crest on the door and the liveried servants calling her Miss de Bryun with a bow, eager to be of service. Even if it was only an illusion, it would be a memory that she could share with her children, should she have any. The chances she might marry and have those children would increase once she was safely out of the clutches of Montague.
* * *
At last, she heard the distant jingle of harnesses through the open window, and the approach of the carriage, the calls of the coachman and the butler at the door, ready to welcome the new guest. She hurried to the hall and pushed past him so she could be at the foot of the carriage steps when her sister alighted.
For a moment, Margot was framed in the open door of the carriage above her. Then she took the few steps to the ground as if in a daze, staring up at the house in front of her. Before she could say a word, Justine rushed forward and enfolded her in her arms.
For a moment, she forgot everything but how good it was to see Margot again. It had been too long since they had been together and even longer since they had been able to speak freely. Before they could do that, it would be longer still. But for now, it felt as if their troubles were over. She whispered in hurried French in the girl’s ear, ‘Guard your tongue, Margot. The situation is complicated. I will explain everything soon. For now, all you must know is that I am Lord Felkirk’s wife and this is my home.’
‘For now?’ Her sister whispered the two words back, then let it pass, allowing Justine to take her arm and lead her into the house. She stared up at the high ceiling and wide stone stairs that had been part of the original castle. ‘Your home? C’est magnifique.’
‘It is,’ agreed Justine, in a whisper.
‘It is your home as well, my dear.’ William had arrived in the hall in just in time to hear the compliment to the house he held so dear. He stepped forward to offer his hand to her. ‘Introductions are in order, I think.’ He looked expectantly at Justine and flashed a disarming smile to show that his formality was little more than a jest.
It gave her a strange thrill of pride to see Margot’s reaction to her dear William. At his worst, when he’d been wasting away in the sickbed, Justine had thought him tragically handsome. But today, he must have requested Stewart to take extra care with his dressing so that he might make a good impression on their guest. He was turned out in a coat of midnight-blue superfine and the snowy-white cravat made his hair look as dark as a raven’s wing in comparison. The walking stick he had chosen was not the common wood staff he’d been using around the house, but ebony chased with silver and topped with a polished ivory knob. She was sure that she had never seen him look better. In fact, she doubted there was a more handsome man in all of London. And by the dazzled look in Margot’s eyes, her sister thought the same. ‘Lord William Felkirk, may I present my sister, Miss Margot de Bryun,’ she said, smiling back at him.
Will made a very proper bow in response to Margot’s awed curtsy. Then he gestured into the house. ‘No need to linger in the doorway, my dear. Come in and be comfortable. Would you care for refreshment? Are you in need of rest? There is a room prepared for you. There will be one in our London home as well. Once you are settled, we will send for the rest of your things.’
‘My things?’ Apparently, it had not occurred to her that the visit might be permanent. ‘I must go back to school,’ she said to Justine in a half-whisper. ‘Mr—’
Justine rushed to cut off mention of their guardian and his wishes on the matter. ‘Now that I am married, I would prefer that you stayed here with us.’
‘At the very least, you must consider a school nearer to us,’ Will added. ‘Your sister pines for you, when you are not nearby. And I would not see her unhappy, even for a moment.’ Then he gave his most winning smile, using his good looks to charm the girl into agreement.
It appeared he had made a conquest, for Margot’s eyes widened in surprise, and gave a confused nod of assent, Mr Montague all but forgotten. ‘You are too kind, my lord.’
‘William, please,’ he said. ‘Or Will. You are my family now, just as Justine is. She will show you your room and give you a tour of the house. Then, perhaps, we shall have tea in the garden. Tonight we will dine with the duke and duchess, who are most eager to meet you.’
Justine needn’t have worried about the girl blurting secrets. Margot was already stunned nearly to silence. But the casual announcement that they would be dining with a peer reduced her to mute shock.
‘Come, Margot,’ Justine said, tugging on her hand to propel her towards the stairs. ‘Let me show you to your room. We have much to talk about, for it has been ages since last we saw each other.’
‘We certainly do,’ Margot agreed, staring back over her shoulder at her new brother-in-law, as they mounted the stairs.