Last spring, she had believed she was barren. She nearly choked on a sob.
“I love you, Peter, with all my heart. And I missed you dreadfully. But I didn’t want to ruin your future. I didn’t… I never want to stand in the way of your dreams.”
“The only way you could do that would be if you refused me. I love you more than life itself.” He squeezed her hand. “Make all my dreams come true tonight. Say you’ll marry me, Miranda.”
Sensations of both terror and wonder squeezed her heart but she slowly dragged their clasped hands together.
Onto her lap.
And then onto the small mound she’d been hiding beneath the blanket.
Without so much as blinking, she watched a myriad of emotions flash across his face: confusion, comprehension, amazement, and then his mouth dropped open. “Is it…? Are you…? But you said—”
“I thought I was. And yes, of course, the child is yours.”
He drew the blanket off her lap, and then covered her rounded abdomen with both hands, shaking his head. “But. When? How…?” His brows furrowed while he seemed to search for his words. “Why didn’t you send for me? I would have come home right away.”
“I didn’t want to—”
“You little fool!” But he pulled her into his arms, clutching at her frantically, and then cautiously, tenderly. “I love you. Being with you is all that matters.” He claimed her mouth with his, and all the tastes and fragrances she’d dreamed of for months filled her senses. Oh, God, it was as though for the first time in her life she was home.
His lips trailed a path along her jaw and down her neck, and his hands explored her belly, breasts, shoulders, and arms as though reassuring himself that she was real.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. Is this why you didn’t come tonight?”
“I thought you wanted to tour.” But she nodded. “Your music is your life.”
“Was my life. You are my life now… and…” He swallowed hard. “Our child?”
All she could do was nod.
“And you’ll marry me?” He was pressing gentle kisses along the edge of her bodice. “Because you love me?”
“I’ll marry you.” She trailed her hands up to cradle his jaw. “Because I finally understand what love is.” Those tears she’d been holding back overflowed. “I missed you so much, and I wanted to tell you, but I knew you would know if I walked into that hotel room and that you’d feel like you had to do the honorable thing but I didn’t want to stand in your way.”
“Never!” He touched a fingertip to her lips. “I’ll get a special license. We’ll marry here and then travel to Raven’s Park to tell my family.” Lifting her across his lap, he settled both of them comfortably with surprising ease. “Strike that. You shouldn’t travel in your condition. Especially not in this weather. When did you find out? What did you do? Oh, my poor sweet Miranda. You shouldn’t have had to go through this alone.” He frowned. “You should have written, you minx.”
But he wasn’t really angry.
She welcomed his kiss hungrily. “You are here. You are truly here.” A tiny part of her had hoped, but she’d dared not allowed herself to really believe this was possible.
“Ahem.” Herman entered carrying a tray with a steaming pot of tea and various other offerings. Was that approval she saw in his eyes?
After her manservant left, closing the door behind him, she clumsily climbed off Peter and poured two cups of tea. Excited but also nervous—was this really happening?—she rambled on, telling Peter all about the visits she’d had with his mother and his sister and sisters-in-law—before her condition had become apparent, that was.
She told him about how she’d learned to garden, growing her own vegetables, and how she’d learned to knit. She had promised to assist his sister with next year’s fundraiser for one of the foundling hospitals and had met his niece and nephew. She also told him the different sensations inside—when the baby moved or kicked. And that he’d had the hiccups a few times already. When she realized he was as starved for her as she was for him, asking all sorts of questions, she found herself cuddled beside him again.
The evening flew by as he in turn told her about the people he’d met, about some of Bickford-Crowden’s horrid habits and even the visit from his brother.
And growing serious, he described his estate, Millcot Lodge, in Essex. Would it be safe for her to travel there after the holidays? Or would she prefer to finish out her confinement in London?
She watched as he seemed to be calculating dates. “February?” That look of wonder returned to his perfect blue eyes.
In between talking and sharing, they’d occasionally fall silent and simply stare into one another’s eyes. Sentences were interrupted as they took turns kissing, tasting, and touching.
And a few times, Miranda found herself laughing for no other reason than that she was happy.
When the clock on the mantel struck midnight, she could hardly believe so much time had passed. Nor could she believe that her future held so much hope.
