Page 75 of Better Off Wed

Tears sprang to her eyes again. Nothing she had ever heard or read or seen about falling in love had prepared her for the amount of crying involved, the overflowing tears of joy. “That sounds perfect, my darling,” she said, snuffling. “Every plan I have, you manage to make better.”

He reached up to draw the pad of his thumb along her cheekbone, whisking away a trace of moisture. “But will this venture mean the end of your thief-taking days?”

She managed a watery smile at his question—not a demand. He truly meant to let her choose? But of course he did. She could not have fallen in love with a man who wanted to change her. “I’m not sure,” she said honestly. “I do have one or two promises I must keep. But the most important promise is the one I made to you last night, to be your one and only Lady Sterling.”

Leaning forward, he brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “The part you were born to play, my love.”

Epilogue

A few weeks later

Jeremy leaned forward, the better to see what lay ahead as the road curved and the first hints of Everham peeked above the treetops. Wordlessly, Laura entwined her ungloved fingers with his and squeezed.

“You mustn’t expect much,” he reminded her, for perhaps the tenth time since the carriage had been announced that morning and he had risen reluctantly from the breakfast table in Mrs. Hayes’s—Aunt Mildred’s—house in Bath.

“So I’ve been told.” He could hear the smile in Laura’s voice, though he did not turn to look at her. “But I can’t help myself—you see, I expect I’ll be very happy here. Because I’ll be with you.”

Happiness. A month ago, it had been entirely out of his reach, or well-hidden at least, behind what had seemed an insurmountable wall of secrets and headaches and debt. He returned the pressure of Laura’s fine-boned fingers, admiring their surprising strength. She had sized up that wall, more than capable of scaling it if necessary. Then she had laughed, landed a well-placed blow to its foundation, and sent it tumbling and crumbling into dust.

Where, he feared, it had joined whatever remained of Everham.

“The roof line looks mostly solid from here.” He craned his neck until his forehead met glass. Surprise creeped into his voice. “Still standing, it would seem. Though of course you mustn’t ex—”

The fingers of her other hand curved around his jaw, turning him away from the window and stopping the rest of the word with her kiss. When she pulled away, her eyes were molten steel, a seductive scold. “Fortunately, I have Mr. Remington’s most recent update by heart. No significant structural damage,” she began reciting the list, punctuating each item with a swift press of her lips to his. “A few broken roof slates—replaced. Cracked windows—reglazed.”

His newly-discovered father possessed an extraordinary range of talents. More quickly than Jeremy had imagined possible, and on the heels of his own wedding, Remington had gathered up a crew of former soldiers—men with strength, eager to learn new trades, and men whose injuries had left them weak, but who were still capable of teaching and training—and set out with them for Wiltshire. He had sent regular, reassuring updates, insisting that work on the main house had progressed so quickly that most of the men had now turned to fixing up the tenant cottages where they would eventually live. In his last letter, he had even reported spending some time tutoring two of the men who’d expressed interest in becoming gentleman’s valets, the capacity in which Remington himself had at least nominally served Lord Ashborough.

“Plaster work—underway,” Laura continued, then paused for a deeper kiss that succeeded in driving back his worry. “Lord and Lady Sterling’s suite—ready for occupancy.”

“Mmm, yes.” He cupped her cheek in his hand and met her simmering look with one of his own. “Now that you mention it, I do seem to remember something to that effect. But scant furnishings. Only one bed, as I recall…”

He felt the wicked curve of her smile against his lips. “And if Mr. Remington is as clever as I think he is, he’ll never find another.”

And suddenly an interminable journey, one that moments ago had seemed filled with dread, was now too short. Not nearly enough time to remind her of the innumerable pleasures that might be had with no bed at all.

When the coachman tapped on the roof of the coach to announce their impending arrival at Everham, Jeremy ran his hand along Laura’s thigh and promised with a saucy wink that he would not forget where he’d left off.

Then the crunch of a gravel drive beneath the coach wheels made his heart hammer for an entirely different reason. Rather than look to the window, he looked to his wife.

Her cheeks were pink, and though he thought he might reasonably take some credit for that fact, her gaze was at present focused past his shoulder, beyond the confines of the coach. “Oh, Jeremy. It’s…” Tears glittered in her eyes. “It’s home.”

Torn between wanting to see what she saw, and having eyes only for her, he turned slowly, drawing her with him, as the door of the coach swung open and Everham rose before them.

Gray stone walls. White pillars. Windows marching in rows across the façade. He could take it in only in pieces. Home. Their home. And the home they would make for all those seeking shelter and peace.

As he helped Laura down, a young man limped forward, the left half of his face blurred by scars. He paused before them and gave a stiff bow. “Welcome, milord. Milady. Sorry to say, Mr. Remington isn’t here. He wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”

“That’s all right—” Laura said, her pause prompting the man for his name.

“Babcock, milady.”

“Oh, yes. Mr. Babcock,” she repeated, and smiled. The young man, a former sergeant, now served as foreman. “He spoke of you in his letter.”

“Will I show you around the place?” he asked.

“Thank you, Mr. Babcock,” Jeremy said, reaching for Laura’s her hand, “but I shall do the honors myself.”

His memories of Everham were sketchy; he’d visited only once before. But as he led her inside, trepidation fell away, to be replaced by a curious mixture of gratitude and pride. Without Laura’s dowry—and without General Scott’s interference before that—Everham would still be a rambling wreck of a house. But now it was on its way to becoming—