Their gazes met.
“Why would you burn them when they are proof of his perfidy?” She wanted to see Effingham jailed after all he’d done to her. “And don’t you want proof that these are false—that I’m truly your wife?”
“I don’t need a court to tell me our marriage is true. I’ve harbored doubts and suspicions for too long, refusing to let anyone close ever since Laura. I thought I would never love again—that my heart was dead and petrified. But you have taught me otherwise, love. And when I thought you were in danger, that he might harm you, I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do to save you. The heart that beats in my chest is very much alive, and it is all yours.”
Her own heart was melting into a puddle hearing him say such things. “Oh, David. I hope you know that I’m all yours too. I have been ever since I fell into your arms at the Carringtons’ musicale.”
Effingham emitted an irate snuffle, but they ignored him.
She stepped close and kissed her true husband softly on the lips. “We can do whatever you wish with marriage licenses. If you wish to burn them, I will be happy to be rid of them. If you wish to keep them and prosecute Lord Effingham, I will happily support you in that as well. Either way, I’m certain it will all turn out for the best.”
He held her close for a long moment, squeezing her so tightly she could hardly breathe. Then he loosened his embrace. “Your good cheer knows no bounds, does it, love?”
She laughed. “I have it on good authority that it does not.” Caressing his cheek, she kissed him again. Even at two in the morning with Effingham bleeding nearby on the bed, the world was full of daffodils and rainbows with David’s lips upon hers.
Charles cleared his throat. “I vote we keep one as evidence.”
David shook his head. “No. We burn them all. The fact that Effingham kidnapped my wife is evidence enough of his wrongdoing, and I’m sure that another couple of fivers will make his butler and his footmen talk about what they saw prior to our arrival if he tries to lie his way out of it. I’ve spent too longhanging onto the past looking for a justice that would never come. Let it go. Let it all go. I have my family, and that is all that matters.”
Charles shrugged and threw the documents in the fire, along with the bloodied copy David handed him. Together they watched the falsehoods burn to ash, and her hope for a marvelous future welled up in her chest like a phoenix.
This was the future they were both meant to have, and she blessed her good fortune for bringing her the man of her dreams.
Chapter 13
David stepped gingerly through the crowds on Oxford Street, a walking cane in one hand and Timothy’s tiny hand in the other. Clarissa completed their little party, flanking Timothy, as they made their way past modistes, milliners, bookstores, and boutiques to Honeyfield’s Toys and Trifles. Timothy practically vibrated with excitement as he walked between them.
“Mama, are we there yet?” He beamed at Clarissa.
Was David ever going to get used to Timothy calling her that? It did funny things to his insides every single time, despite his having had two weeks since the wedding to get used to it.
“Just one more block.” Clarissa’s radiant grin back at Timothy nearly made David look away. Being this happy seemed…unnatural. He wasn’t accustomed to it. There was still a part of him that was convinced his good fortune would crumble at any moment, but he’d promised himself—and Clarissa—that he would try his best to have faith in good things.
Nonetheless, he was grateful for the dull throb of his injured leg. It convinced him he hadn’t been abducted by fairies or drugged with laudanum. Love and contentment would take some getting used to, and he was glad to have somethingbothersome to mar the perfection of the moment. Otherwise, it would simply have been too much.
Their destination came into view, and Timothy broke out of their hold to run and plaster his face against the storefront window. Looking at it and letting the anticipation build was half the fun. At that moment, it was decorated into a diorama of a toy parade with no detail spared. A breathtaking variety of dolls, stuffed animals, tin soldiers, and marionettes stood in orderly rows with ingenious miniature instruments affixed to their hands. At the front of the parade was a stuffed bear the size of Timothy riding the very hobby horse his son had been pining for. The horse sported a festive red bow. A painted backdrop of cheering children on a bright summer’s day completed the scene. Timothy bounced on his toes as he took it all in, wide-eyed.
Clarissa threaded her arm through David’s as they stood behind Timothy, basking in his obvious delight. Unaccustomed warmth and joy spread through him at her touch.
“I’m so glad we were able to do this before we left for the countryside.” The scent of lemon and bergamot stole over him as she leaned close.
He breathed her in, enjoying the way her proximity addled his senses like a fine brandy. “So am I.”
“I know you’ve been itching to get out of the house. I’m sorry the doctor made you stay in bed so long.”
“I’m not.” He gave his wife a smoldering glance.
Spending two weeks in bed with Clarissa had done wonders for his outlook on life, not that the doctor would have approved of how they spent the time. He had been supposed to rest and recover, and he’d done some of that. But how was he supposed to behave himself in the company of his lovely, eager, affectionate, new bride? Ravishing his wife was ever so much more fun than dull, boring recuperation. And the injury wasa mere flesh wound. He’d had worse, and recovered in much rougher circumstances.
But bed sport was far from the only thing he enjoyed with Clarissa, delightful as it was. She read him the most outrageous stories, filled with action, adventure, and more than a little romance—the sorts of novels he would never have picked for himself in a million years. The books made their own misadventures sound almost dull by comparison.
In the evenings, she played the piano, and they sang together. Sometimes, even Charles joined in. Somehow, the miserable house he’d grown up in had filled up with joy, and his family was a proper, loving family for the first time he could remember. And he had his wife to thank for all of it.
“Papa, Papa.” Timothy tugged on his sleeve. “Can we go inside?”
David chuckled. “Why do you think we brought you here, silly goose?”
It was a good thing he’d brought a fat purse with him. He knew he was going to leave Honeyfield’s with it significantly lighter.
