“Thank you, Georgiana.” I smiled sweetly before he could reprimand her. She entered the carriage as though unaware of my response. I spoke louder, “I look forward to years of time together.”
Forever, actually.
“No one else would tolerate her.” Peter shook his head. “It is one of the many reasons I love you.”
My heart soared. “I should like a list of the rest of your reasons in my first letter.”
“Then you shall have it. You shall have your heart’s desire for the rest of your days, my darling.”
“Speaking of which, you still owe me that favor, as I recall,” I teased, and he kissed me, enveloping me in his arms.
“Lord, help me. Do not include Georgiana this time. Not for another six months at least.”
Laughing, I said, “First, we shall see how good of a husband you are. Perhaps she and I are better schemers as sisters.”
Peter’s gaze grew serious, sincere. “How did this happen? How, in the most random of places, on the most random of errands, did life bring me to you?”
I walked Peter to the carriage, straightening his cravat and feeling the width of his shoulders one last time. We savored another kiss, knowing we must make it last.
He moaned, and held me tighter in his arms. “Are you certain you cannot come? I can situate you at a nearby inn, or a house of one of my neighbors. We’ll send for Clara as soon as she’s had her fill of Demsworth.”
Confined in his embrace, I’d never felt so free. “Soon,” I said. “And then you shall never be rid of me.”
With his thumb, he stroked my cheek, my brow, my lips, his glinting green eyes washing over me as though memorizing every inch. “Take care, my love. My Amelia.”
“I love you, Peter.” Slowly I released him, huffing a pitiful breath as he closed the door behind him.
I stepped back, watching as the carriage drove away, holding my middle.
I felt safe. Unimaginably happy.
Free.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dearest Amelia,
Was it all a dream? I fear it was, and that this letter will have you quite confused when you receive it.
I slept nearly the entire drive back. Georgiana had a much harder time relaxing. I cannot decide what to say to her, or how to ease her pain. I am not sure I can.
I am miserable without you. Has the party there dispersed? I must ask you to keep away from Lieutenant Rawles. He’s had eyes for you since our very first day, and I do not wish to duel a soldier.
My estate is just as I left it, but for piles of work upon my desk. At least I have plenty to keep me occupied. I hope you like it here. There is much improvement to be made, but I shall leave that to your taste.
You are in my thoughts in every moment. Your smile, your laugh, the way you purse your lips when you are unamused with my teasing. You are the bravest, smartest, and most thoughtful person I have ever met. You care little for the opinions of others, and yet you deserve their very best. To detail your talent, your kindness, your loyalty—to say nothing of your beauty—would take pages. How have I convinced such a woman to love me? I shall spend a lifetime wondering.
Yours, etc.
Peter
My darling Peter,
I must have watched the window for hours. Your poor messenger is on a walk to stretch his legs from such a journey. I do hope he recovers after traveling to and fro.
Clara and Sir Ronald have set a date for a week from now. Sir Ronald procured a common license as they do not wish to draw more attention than necessary after the scandal. Perhaps we should do the same?
Our things from Gray House will be arriving in a few days. Prepare yourself for my many trunks. Did I tell you I love to collect seashells?
