Still, he had not broached the topic of what would happen when they returned to reality and left their utopia behind. While they had spoken of love, and they had spent the last few days in each other’s arms, he had been uncertain of what to expect from her at Barlowe Park. As they prepared to leave, he found himself desperately needing to know.
“I am willing to forget what has come before,” she said softly. “I want our marriage to work. I want us to be happy.”
Thank Christ.
Zachary had not realized he had been holding his breath, awaiting her words, until he could breathe again, his chest aching with the effort to suppress his need of oxygen. He closed his eyes for a moment, his reaction to this final, full retreat from her battlements stronger than he had been prepared for. He felt as if he were reeling. Dizzied a bit, or perhaps intoxicated. Or just so damned relieved. He felt certain he could scale the bloody false cliffs with one hand and stand atop them, victorious as a marauder.
But he did none of those things.
Instead, he kissed his wife, taking care to keep their mutual headwear from being knocked askew. No mean feat, given the breadth of the brim on her bonnet today, which he supposed was down to the cherries needing a flat place to nestle. Her response was instant, a breathy sigh he gladly claimed as his own, her arms going around his neck. He kissed her because he could not get enough of her. Kissed her and told her without words how much she meant to him. Kissed her until they were both breathless.
And then, because the rest of him was already raging for more, he abruptly raised his head again, ending it. “I want us to be happy, too,cariad,” he said thickly. “I know we can be.”
Beatrice had already been removed from both of their lives. From now on, she could converse with him through written communication. He had no wish to see her ever again after the pain she had caused him. If he had lost Izzy because of her…
No. He would not think of that now. Would not think of Beatrice or the past or any of the pain.
Because Izzy was here in his arms, looking up at him with eyes ablaze with love, her lips swollen from his kiss. A fierce, possessive pride shot through him. How incredible it was that they had found each other. He would do everything in his power to make certain she never regretted entrusting her heart to him.
“You have made me happy already, my love,” she said softly.
Fuck.
How to respond? She undid him. He had thought his heart dead and cold, incapable of love. Had believed he would never wed, let alone want a wife, love her the way he loved Izzy. He had been so very, very wrong.
He swallowed down a knot of rising emotion, a fervent gratitude sweeping over him. “And you have made me happier than I ever dared believe I could be. I don’t know what the devil I ever did to deserve you, but I will be eternally thankful you wandered into that blue salon when you did.”
“Kiss me again,” his beautiful wife commanded.
And, obliging chap that he was, Zachary obeyed.
CHAPTER21
He had not even been returned to Barlowe Park for the span of two hours, and already, everything had gone straight to bloody hell.
With a long-suffering sigh, Zachary pressed his fingertips to his throbbing temples. “Have you any idea where Potter might be found, Mrs. Beasley?” he asked his housekeeper.
After the idyll of his honeymoon at Haines Court with Izzy, returning to the mismanaged, derelict Barlowe Park proved a sound reminder that all was not well in his world and there was rather a lot of work to be done if he intended to restore his family seat to its former glory. Not only was there no electricity or piped-in, heated water or convenient bathrooms, but there was also a host of broken, worn, threadbare, ancient items and overgrown gardens and paths which needed his attention.Christ, there was even a leaking roof. And one of the parlor maids had run off with a footman.
“I am afraid I have not seen Mr. Potter yet today, my lord,” his housekeeper replied. “But as for the matter of the scullery maid who was found behind the stables with one of the grooms, what do you recommend? Shall I bring the matter to her ladyship? It is a both regrettable and delicate situation, you understand, and quite unprecedented. At least when Mary ran off with Roger, she had the grace to cavort elsewhere…”
He cleared his throat, interrupting the endless flow of her words. “Settle the matter as you see fit, Mrs. Beasley. I trust your judgment.”
In truth, he was not certain he did. Mrs. Beasley was dreadfully young for a housekeeper, and he doubted whether she possessed the experience to manage a household of this size. But like the endless list of other issues requiring his attention, that would have to wait.
“Of course, my lord,” she said. “You might find Mr. Potter in the butler’s pantry. He prefers to spend much of his time there, now that we have finally dispensed with the mice he has been fretting over.”
“Without the use of a shotgun, I hope?” he drawled wryly.
“Mr. Potter finally relented and allowed me to have some poison placed in the problem areas,” Mrs. Beasley said. “He does, however, still insist upon calling me Mrs. Measly. I will ring for him for you, my lord.”
Of course he did. Zachary suppressed a laugh.
Although Wycombe had thankfully dealt with Ridgely, it was painfully clear Zachary needed to spend a great deal of time here at Barlowe Park, relearning the estate and people and fixing everything Horatio had let go to rot. And while he had spent most of his time in London for years now, he could not deny the notion of rusticating in Staffordshire with Izzy held a surprising amount of appeal.
“Thank you, Mrs. Beasley.” He nodded to her. “Direct him to the study, if you please. I shall do my best to persuade Potter of the correct pronunciation of your surname. In the meantime, if Lady Anglesey should be looking for me, please let her know where to find me. And if you have further questions concerning the running of household matters, please look to her.”
He and Izzy had spoken about her desire to step into the role of mistress at Barlowe Park, and he was grateful she was looking forward to the daunting challenge. When he had explained the reason for the sad state of disrepair at the estate—namely his brother’s mismanagement and Ridgely’s blatant theft—she had been shocked and eager to help him right all the wrongs which had been done over the years.
