She’d admitted to him the night before that she was nervous to speak in front of a crowd. Feeling her tremble—Lydia, thewoman who wasn’t afraid of anything—it humbled him. He squeezed her hand. “This is all you, love.”
She nodded—blinked a few times, took a deep breath—and then stepped forward.
The murmurs in the crowd mostly quieted as she stared out at them.
“Thank you everyone for coming!” Her voice wobbled slightly, but Jeremy didn’t think anyone who didn’t know her would notice. “And thank you to every single person who has lent their support, their energy, their wisdom, and, of course, their money—” laughter filled in here “—to be a part of opening Tuesday’s Choice: A New Home for London’s Children in Need.”
Jeremy might have been the only person who noticed the flush of pleasure that spread up her neck when the applause that followed went on for nearly a full minute.
Her confidence took over as she went on to thank a number of people by name and speak about the challenges they’d faced as well as their hopes for the future, all of which, she’d practiced at home extensively the week before. By now, he practically had the speech memorized himself.
Or he thought he had.
“But there is one person here,” she said. “One particularly special individual without whom none of this would be possible.” She turned and met his gaze, her eyes shining with so much pride and love that he was going to have no choice but to forgive her for what he sensed she was about to do. “The man who led the charge against the gang bosses and, with the help of a handful of other gentlemen, some of whom are present today, has made not only East London, but all of England a safer place. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a rousing round of applause for my favorite man in the world—not to mention the most handsome—” she added, winking at the crowd playfully. “The Earl of Tempest.”
“You are going to pay for this, Love,” he murmured as she reached out to take his hand and drag him forward.
“I hope so,” she answered provocatively.
“Minx,” he growled.
Not at all comfortable being acknowledged like this and hating that his ears felt hot as Lydia took a step back, Jeremy, nonetheless, bowed graciously and thanked everyone for coming. He then promptly asserted that he by no means had accomplished any of it alone and introduced the Earl of Baxter. Baxter, far more capable of dealing with these sorts of situations, made a few jokes, winked, and then signaled the ladies to cut the ribbon which would put an end to the official ceremony.
It was a long, loud, fantastic but exhausting day—one that Jeremy wouldn’t have expected to take part in in a million years. But it had all been worth it.
Later that night, matching his stride to Lydia’s as they returned from the nursery to the bed chamber they shared, he was even happier to have the pageantry and mayhem of the ceremony behind them.
Because he was happiest of all when he had his wife to himself.
“Ollie is getting a little better about bathing.” She slid him a glance. “But he still insists Mrs. Mumford is trying to drown him when she washes his hair.
“I imagine that if he’d gone with Buck to Crescent Park, he would be bathing in the horse’s trough.”
Lydia elbowed him. “Blackheart isn’t that harsh.”
Jeremy could only laugh at that as he shuffled her inside of their chamber and closed and locked the door behind them.
For the first time in what felt like days, he had her alone again.
He drew her into his arms and ran his hands down her back. Her shiver, he knew by now, was one of anticipation.
“You have a debt to pay, my lady.”
“Because of the speech?” She widened her eyes in mock surprise as she met his gaze.
“I…” He moved his hands to untie the front of her dressing gown and then swallowed hard, inexplicably at a loss for words.
Her hands slid up his chest and inside of his banyan. “I couldn’t let the event pass without recognizing you for the hero you are.”
Jeremy untied the bow at the end of her braid so that he could run his fingers through the satiny, ebony strands.
“I’m no hero.” Nothing he did could atone for not doing something to keep his brother in check.
“And that sort of talk is precisely why I had to do that today.” Staring at his chest, delicate lines of displeasure appeared between her eyes. “You are thinking about Arthur.”
“What he did…”
“It haunts you,” Lydia’s fingertips played along his shoulders and then up his neck. “And you wouldn’t be the man I love if it didn’t. But just as you’ve explained on more than one occasion to Ollie—that he isn’t responsible for what Buck did—I’ll keep telling you the same about Arthur.”
