“What do you mean you won’t marry me?” Hawker glowered at her.
He’d brought up shopping for wedding bands, which had left her no choice but to address the reality that she’d been avoiding.
“I am not the right woman for you,” she said. “You need a lady. Someone who’d make a proper duchess—”
“Bleeding ’ell. Not this again. I thought we sorted this out days ago. When you promised you’d marry me if I let you ’elp with Claude.”
“I said I wouldconsidermarrying you. And I have done so.” She exhaled, her breath a crystalline puff. “Trust me, it is for your own good.”
“Youare good for me, Pearl.” He slid her a look. “Thought I was good for you too. In fact, I’m pretty sure you moaned those exact words in my ear last night.”
Memories of their torrid lovemaking washed over her. Knowing that she had to break things off, perhaps she shouldn’t have continued to share a bed with Hawker. She shouldn’t have told him more about her past, letting herself bask in his attention, in his unconditional love which healed the broken parts of her. She shouldn’t have listened to his dreams of the future…the future he wished to build with her.
Yet she hadn’t wanted to give him up until she absolutely had to.
Her cheeks hot, she said, “It is ungentlemanly of you to mention it.”
“Ain’t a gentleman. Which is why I don’t want a lady.” Hawker snatched up her hand. “You’re the one I want, Pearl. The only woman I’ll ever want. The title and all the rest o’ it…we’ll figure it out together. With you by my side, I can face anything, and I swear I’ll return the favor, be there for you through thick and thin and everything in between. So stop torturing us both and say you’ll be mine.”
It was blasted difficult to refuse the man she loved. To say no when he was offering her everything she’d ever wanted. Yet when she’d opened the door to love in the past, she’d only ushered in pain, and she couldn’t bear to lose Hawker. To watch his love wither and die when he realized that he ought to have married a woman of his own station.
She pulled free of his grasp. “You need both hands for driving.”
“And you need to admit that you love me. As much as I love you.”
Her breath jammed at his tender ferocity. Heat pushed behind her eyes, and she jerked her gaze away, directing it mindlessly ahead. She did not trust herself to respond, and surprisingly, he did not push her. The clacking wheels measured out the silence as she stared at the street, which led them on an incline past small brick cottages with soot-blackened sheds attached. Northfield was known for its nail makers, who produced their goods at home.
A church came into view at the top of the hill. Built of sandstone which glowed with a rosy-gold patina, the magnificent medieval building boasted a tower, chancel, and lancet windows. A stone wall ringed the churchyard.
“Are you sure you have the correct directions?” Pearl asked, frowning.
“This is the address Lady Fayne gave us.” Pulling up to the church entrance, Hawker gave her a meaningful look. “Let’s get this over with so that we can continue our discussion.”
Snow crunched under their boots as Pearl and Hawker walked through the tranquil yard dotted with gravestones. They entered the building through a rounded doorway; the church appeared empty. As they passed the rows of dark pews, Pearl gazed at the brilliant stained-glass windows along the nave, the filtered light transforming dust motes into floating jewels.
A strange sense of calm entered her. In this hallowed place, the noise of the outside world faded while the yearnings of her heart grew louder and louder. She glanced at Hawker; he wasn’t looking at the surroundings but at her. The vivid certainty in his gaze set her heart thumping. Words pushed up her throat, and she wetted her lips…
“Merry Christmas to the both of you, and welcome to St. Laurence.”
A blond man in a rector’s collar walked down the aisle toward them.
“I am Henry Clarke, the rector.” Behind his spectacles, Reverend Clarke’s eyes were warm. “Is there anything I may assist you with?”
“Yes, sir, there is.” Pearl held up the paper-wrapped package. “We’re here to deliver a parcel.”
“So you are the pair Lady Fayne wrote to me about. Mrs. Peabody and Mr. Hawker. How was your trip from London?”
“It was more eventful than anticipated,” Pearl admitted.
Hawker snorted.
“Some journeys take longer than others and are full of surprises.” The rector smiled. “In my experience, those are the ones most worth taking.”
A strange tension fell as Reverend Clarke looked expectantly at her and Hawker but made no move to take the package.
She extended it toward him. “Would you, um, care to take this?”
“That gift is not meant for me,” the rector averred. “It is for the pair of you.”
