Ambrose gave a bitter laugh. “Because I expected to hear a distorted denial or some false declaration of innocence. All words I’d heard once before and not long since, either. It was not easy for me to believe I’d been deceived by a woman for thesecond time in a matter of weeks. I do not consider myself to be a prideful man, Lydia, but by God, my pride was wounded. So much so, I didn’t tellanyoneabout the situation till this morning. Not a single soul. It was just too damn painful to admit. As for the authenticity of my heart, I can assure you it is very real. It pains me still.”
“But you werenotdeceived!” she cried. “It wasn’t what it looked like. I swear on my life it was not. It was merely a moment of folly. Bertie is someone I’ve known for years. I told him all about you. I wanted you to meet him!”
“Yes, I know that now, but at the time, considering what I saw, I thought…” Ambrose couldn’t help but ask the question. “Do you love him?”
Lydia closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes,” she replied softly. “I do.”
The response chilled Ambrose’s blood, for it seemed to contradict what she’d just said. He longed to ask if she still lovedhim, even in the smallest measure. Given her outburst earlier, it didn’t seem likely. His throat tightened as he looked once more to the water. “Then why aren’t you aboard that ship?”
She followed his gaze. “I was, right up to the moment they were about to cast off,” she replied, her voice still soft, “but I changed my mind and disembarked.”
Ambrose swallowed. “Why?”
“Because I realized Bertie deserved someone better,” she replied, her gaze still on the departing ships. “Someone who can give him more than I am able.”
Ambrose shook his head. “I don’t understand. You just told me you loved him.”
“Yes.” Her gaze met his once more, eyes bright with obvious emotion. “And, at one time, the love I have for him might have been enough to merit my becoming his wife.” She hugged her bag tighter to her chest. “But that is no longer the case. You see,my lord, when it comes to love, I recently discovered that I am capable of more than I ever thought possible. More, far more, than the love I have for Bertie. That being so, I fear I cannot settle for anything less. To do so would be unfair to me and, more importantly, to him. He was not happy to hear it, but he understands. In the end, there was no animosity between us. We parted as friends, as we have always been.”
Did he dare believe what she was saying? Was he understanding her correctly? The ever-persistent question in his head traveled, unbidden, to his tongue. “Do you still love me, Lydia?”
“Yes, of course I do,” she replied, her eyes brimming. “It is because of you that I got off that ship. I have never stopped loving you, Ambrose. Not for a second. Not even when you broke my heart, damn you.” The bag tumbled to the ground as her hands flew to cover her face, followed a moment later by the tell-tale shudder of hard, silent sobs.
It took Ambrose a mere stride to capture her, to draw her close, to breathe in her sweet scent. And still the silent sobs continued, rhythmic and hard. Ambrose cursed himself and tightened his hold. “I’m a stupid, stupid fool,” he murmured. “You are not the underling, my love. Far from it. That vile epithet belongs to me entirely. Please forgive me. I swear nothing in this world is more precious to me than you. You’re all I need, all I want. Don’t cry, my darling. Please don’t cry.”
The sobs subsided and she lifted a tear-stained face to his. “I lost you,” she said, “and I couldn’t even begin to understand why. I couldn’t make sense of it. It was as if I didn’t know my own mind, my own heart. I couldn’t believe, after all we had shared, all we had said, that I meant nothing to you.”
Ambrose groaned again. An anvil strung around his neck, he decided, would be easier to carry than the guilt currently weighing on his conscience. He released her, pulled ahandkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “You mean everything to me, Lydia, everything,” he said. “I swear I’ll make it up to you if it takes the rest of my life.”
Sniffing, she touched his unshaven jaw. “When I saw you just now, I thought I was hallucinating. I couldn’t believe my eyes. How come you’re here? I mean, how did you know where I was?”
“Well now.” Unable to resist, he gathered her in his arms again. Simply holding her gave his battered spirit invisible wings. “A mutual acquaintance told me about Mr. Truscott and how you were planning to leave with him today. I was assured, however, that you and he were friends,onlyfriends, and had been since childhood. And that’s when I realized I’d made a terrible mistake. When I got here, I was told your ship had sailed and I thought…” He swallowed. “I’m not sure what I thought, actually. That I’d never see you again, I suppose. I felt sick. Utterly sick.”
“A mutual acquaintance? Would that be Mrs. Dove-Lyon, by any chance?”
“Yes, and thank God for her.” Ambrose winced. “I never thought there’d come a day when I found myself indebted to the Black Widow of Whitehall.”
“She’s a good soul. Papa respected her, and he was an excellent judge of character.” Lydia lifted her head and looked at him. “I believe he would have approved of you too, although perhaps not in your current state. I fear you look rather…”
“Questionable?” He smiled and then grimaced. “Frightening?”
She touched his face. “Weary.”
“Well, I mightlookweary, but I feel totally renewed,” he replied. “You’re still here, Lydia, and you still love me. I need nothing else in this world. I have missed you so damn much.”
“I have missed you too.” She snuggled into him again. “These past few weeks have been absolutely horrible. I didn’t know where to put myself.”
“I’ll make it up to you, my love, I promise.” Ambrose pressed a lingering kiss to her hair, released her, and picked up the bag she’d dropped. “To begin, let me take you home. Where’s your luggage?”
“Except for these few personal things, my luggage is sitting on the quay,” she replied, taking the bag from him. “I’m assured it’ll be delivered to the house this afternoon. And I wouldloveto go home. Yours or mine, I don’t really care, just as long as I can be with you.”
Ambrose swallowed against a sudden, fresh swell of emotion. Oh, to hear those words from her mouth! A miracle, considering he’d almost lost her. “Mine is closer,” he said.
“Yours it is, then, but I must send a note to Owens to let him know I haven’t left the country.” She chuckled. “I daresay he and the rest of the staff will be delighted to hear it.”
“No doubt.” Ambrose took her hand and kissed it. “Lydia, my sweet, this is not at all how I envisioned it, but I simply cannot wait any longer. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my countess? I want you at my side always. I swear I can think of no greater honor.”
“Oh, Ambrose.” Smiling, she scrubbed away another errant tear. “Of course I’ll marry you. There is nothing I want more in this world.”
