Henrietta got up on an elbow. “See? You married her and saved her from the workhouse which would have certainly killed her. You gave her a pregnancy she wanted. It’s not your fault she didn’t live to see and raise and love Nathaniel. And Violet? It sounds like she was so unhappy and in so much pain. I feel sorry for her. But I feel much more sorry for you because you have had to live with that horror.”
No wonder Oliver had told her he would not impose on her. She finally understood why he had said such a thing.
She whispered, “You lived through some terrible times. But you’re here with me now. With a woman who wants you very much. And wants your happiness.”
“Yes.” He covered his face with his hands. “Was I wrong to tell you?”
“No. No, no, no. I want you to share everything with me. Your sorrows and your joys.”
He rubbed his eyelids with his fingertips and then took his hands away and gazed at her, blinking. “I can’t help but behappy, married to you. You make me happy. I never thought I could be. And I never thought you could want me this way.”
“I want to ask . . . it’s silly, but . . . all this time . . . you wanted me?”
His angular face softened. “I wanted you ever since I saw you in the middle of your Season, in London. You were so beautiful and so hopeful and so alive. Everything I wasn’t. And I hated myself for wanting you.”
“Oh, Oliver.”
“I’ve often wondered if I kissed you not just because I desired you more than any other woman in the world, but because I wanted to keep you for myself.”
“I was already yours, foolish man. I used to wait for you, you know, to come out of my father’s study.”
He laughed.
Everything about tonight was a miracle. Her husband was in bed with her,laughing.
“Really? I always thought your mother had sent you in her place to make sure your father and I didn’t stagger into anything after we had emptied the decanter.”
“No, I just wanted to see you. And then I learned to make custard for you when I was sixteen.”
“You learned for me?”
“Yes. But I didn’t know you couldn’t send custard from Bexton to Crossthwaite.”
“No. You had to come to Crossthwaite and make it here.”
“Yes.” She sat up. “And now I’m a bit put out with myself. We wasted two years, Oliver.”
He pulled her back down into the circle of his arms. “Don’t be upset. Don’t. I’m sorry you thought your husband didn’t desire you, but it wasn’t time wasted. When we married, I wasn’t whole. Even if I had selfishly taken advantage of you, I would have been no kind of proper husband to you.”
She nestled against him, wanting to get as close as possible to this glorious man who was finally hers in every way. “You needed time?”
He kissed her forehead. “I needed you. To show me the way. To teach me how to be a father to my son. To teach me how to appreciate life. And how to appreciate you.”
“Two years, though.”
“I promise you I went as quickly as I could. I had a lifetime of disappointment to unlearn. And the only reason I did it at all is because you’re such a brilliant teacher. My bright, steady, unflinching star in the darkness.”
She tilted her head and looked up at him. “And maybe, finally, because I asked you for a baby?”
“Yes. I had vowed to give you anything you asked for. I hadn’t dared to dream you would ask for me.”
“All right. I won’t be upset I had to wait two years. It’s my own fault for not asking sooner—” He tried to break in, but she spoke over him. “But you have to make me a promise.”
“Anything.”
“You’ll compensate me now with lashings and lashings of baby-making.”
“How much islashings?”
