Love With the Proper Husband (37 page)

“Now who is leaping to unsubstantiated conclusions?” Marcus’s manner was relaxed, even casual. She stared in stunned disbelief. What on earth was wrong with the man? He wasn’t taking this nearly as seriously as he should. Didn’t he realize the future of her nieces was at stake, not to mention their future? How could she ever forgive him for this?

“It’s not at all what you think,” Marcus said.

“It’s exactly what I think,” she snapped. “You’re going to hand these children over to that man. My cousin”—the word left an unpleasant taste in her mouth—“who cares nothing for them and is only truly interested in getting his hands on their fortune.”

“You do your cousin a grave disservice, Lady Pennington.” A man’s voice sounded behind her.

“He was acting at my request.”

Gwen whirled around. A tall, thin figure stepped forward from the shadows and the fog.

“Papa?” Charity’s shocked whisper sounded behind Gwen.

Papa?

For a moment it was as if time itself stopped. The stranger gazed with a hesitant smile and unabashed love at her nieces.
His…daughters?

“Papa!” Hope screamed and hurled herself at him, followed immediately by her sisters. At once, all four were in one anothers’ arms, laughing and weeping and promising each other that this was indeed real and not some specter formed by the night and the fog.

A shocked gasp sounded from Madame or Colette, Gwen wasn’t sure, and she heard a sob of sheer emotion and realized it came from somewhere deep inside her.

“Gwen, this is Paul Loring.” Marcus’s arm slipped around her, and she sagged against him. “I told you it was appropriate.”

“I don’t understand.” Gwen sniffed back against the tears that trickled down her face. “How can this…”

“It’s a long story,” Marcus murmured. “Fascinating though. I’m not entirely clear on all the details, but when their ship wrecked, Loring tossed the girls into a small boat along with a few others. He and your sister were washed away. He remembers very little about that but eventually woke up on an island somewhere. It was some time before he was rescued.”

“And Louisa?” Gwen held her breath.

“She’s gone, Gwen. I’m sorry.” Marcus shook his head. “Loring searched for her for a long time to no avail. He did find the missionaries who had rescued the girls and knew they were safe and had been returned to England.” Marcus paused. “He was headed home when he met up with your cousin. Townsend has been trying to locate Loring since he learned of his disappearance and the girls’ survival.”

It took a moment for Gwen to realize exactly what Marcus was saying. “I have misjudged him, then, haven’t I?”

“So it appears.” Marcus chuckled. “However, he has misjudged you as well.”

“I’m still confused.” Gwen shook her head. “Didn’t Mr. Whiting know about this?”

“Not entirely. He’d received some information, from Townsend’s solicitor actually, but it was all quite vague and more an inquiry than anything else. It wasn’t until I met with Whiting this morning that we managed to guess at the truth. You see, the letter Townsend showed us last night looked entirely too recent to my eye. However, we didn’t know anything for certain until we went to Townsend’s house here in London and discovered Loring himself.”

“I’m afraid I still don’t—” Gwen struggled to make sense of it all. “Why didn’t he simply come to the hall with Townsend?”

“I thought it best not to appear without warning.” Loring stepped closer, the girls still sobbing with joy and clinging to him as if they feared he would vanish if they let him go. “I see now it was probably a mistake.”

Loring shook his head. “I know I have made a mess of this. I should have come forward the moment I returned to England with Adrian but, well, I’m not entirely certain how one returns from the dead. I thought it might be easier all around if I sent Adrian to fetch the girls with a paper giving him guardianship.”

He gazed down at his children with unrestrained affection. “I was a bit of a coward. I was afraid. I feared telling them that I was alive while their mother…” A catch sounded in his voice.

“Oh, Papa.” Charity sniffed. “We could never blame you for that.”

“We know you did everything you could to save her.” Patience choked back a sob. “You saved us.”

“We love you, Papa.” Hope sobbed. “And we have missed you terribly.”

“But we are together now, my dear sweet girls.” Loring’s grip tightened around his children.

“This is so…” Colette’s teary voice sounded behind Gwen.

“I know.” Madame sniffed. “It’s quite remarkable.”

“Isn’t it though?” Gwen struggled against a need to throw herself into Marcus’s arms and weep. For happiness, of course, and for a terrible loss she was just now understanding. Marcus drew her closer to his side. His voice was low, meant for her alone. “You have to give them up now, you know.”

“I know.” She forced a smile. “All I really ever wanted was for them to be with someone who cared about them. To be happy.”

“Lady Pennington,” Loring began.

“Gwen, please.” She laughed weakly. “We are family.

“Of course, and you must call me Paul.” He drew a deep breath. “I must apologize to you. Your husband has told me of all you went through after your father died. We had just learned of his death—

news often travels exceedingly slow in less civilized parts of the world—and had decided to return to England when our ship was lost.

“You should understand as well that your sister cared for you a great deal.” Paul shook his head.

“She always assumed there would be time in the future for you to know one another.”

Gwen’s throat ached with tears, and she could do nothing more than nod.

“We shall miss living with you, Aunt Gwen.” Hope’s lower lip trembled.

“Oh, but we shall see you a great deal.” Charity looked up at her father. “Won’t we, Papa?”

“And Uncle Marcus and Uncle Reggie and Grandmama Pennington. You’ll like them, Papa, they’

re great fun.” Patience grinned at her aunt. “We didn’t like Aunt Gwen much in the beginning but we like her quite a bit now.”

Gwen uttered something that might have been a cry or a laugh. “I have never had a finer compliment.”

Marcus cleared his throat. “I imagine it could take a while for you to get your life in order, coming back from the dead and all that.”

Paul laughed. “From what I have attempted thus far, it will be most awkward.”

“You might wish to spend some time in the country. I have a dower house you are more than welcome to use. Even”—he sighed in resignation—“purchase if you wish.”

“Marcus, how thoughtful of you.” Gwen grinned. “Although, in truth, it is my dower house.”

He bent low and spoke into her ear. “We shall be discussing that and a number of other matters.”

“That’s quite thoughtful of you both.” Paul smiled at his daughters. “It’s obvious from what I’ve heard and what I’ve seen tonight that there is a great deal of affection shared between all of you. I think staying in close proximity to your family—”

“Our family,” Gwen said quickly.

Paul smiled. “I think it’s an excellent idea. At least for now.”

“But at this particular moment”—Madame stepped forward—“we should all return home. It’s dank and dark and children should be in bed.”

A flurry of arrangements followed and within moments, the group had divided into various vehicles for the trip back to Madame’s. Gwen and Marcus were to take his carriage alone. They watched the duke’s borrowed coaches roll away, then started toward their carriage.

“You have not lost them, you know,” Marcus said softly. “Not really.”

“I know. It’s all for the best. They have their father back and…” She struggled against a fresh onslaught of tears. “And I, well, I have never been that good with children. It was an oddity really that they liked me at all.”

Marcus laughed. “I predict our children will like you a great deal.”

“Marcus.” She drew a steadying breath. “About my actions, I—”

“Oh, we shall have a long discussion about your behavior, Miss Townsend—”

“Lady Pennington, if you please.”

“A very long discussion. And in it we shall talk about such things as trust and independence and honesty and impulse and words like
forever
.”

“Marcus.” She stopped and stared up at him. “I said in my note that I would love you forever and I meant it.”

“It would have done me no good if you had been half a world away.” He pulled her sharply into his arms. “I would have followed you, you know. If it had taken the rest of my life, I would have found you.”

The intensity of his vow left her breathless. “I did hope so.”

He raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You must understand, it wasn’t you I was leaving, it was the circumstances. I never wanted to

leave you. After all”—she wrapped her arms around his neck—“we were brought together by the hand of fate.”

“Helped along a bit by a more determined hand.” He laughed. “Although it strikes me that the mother of the Fates is the Goddess of Necessity. Mothers doing what they feel necessary must be an eternal concept.”

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What?”

“I’ll explain later. For now…” He pulled her tighter against him. “It’s enough to say from this moment forward, we shall allow nothing, not fate or its helpers, to come between us.”

“Absolutely nothing.” As the words left her lips, she knew she’d never said anything truer in her life. “Say it, Marcus.”

He grinned. “Because if I say it aloud I’ll be happy?”

“Because if you say it aloud we’ll both be happy.”

“Indeed we will, Lady Pennington.” He bent to touch his lips to hers. “Forever, Gwen.”

She melted against him and knew she’d found all she ever wanted with this arrogant, proper man and much, much more.

They would indeed, from this day forward, share their joys and their fears, every laugh and every tear, each hour and each day. There would be children who would grow safe and secure and never doubt they were well and truly loved.

And she knew as well, regardless of what they might have agreed to in a garden under the watchful eyes of the Fates themselves, seven and a half years would not be the end of what they’d found in each other.

“Forever, Marcus.”

But merely the beginning.

Epilogue

Seven and a half years later

Lord help me, I shall live a hundred years and never understand the odd, annoying nature of men.
And I should live a thousand before I would do without them.

Helena Pennington

“Odd time of year to have a party, don’t you think?” Lady Berkley said curiously. “Whatever possessed them to do something like this in autumn?”

“Personally, Marian, I quite like this time of year. Besides, they said it was a celebration.” Helena Pennington gazed out from the terrace over the wide lawns of Holcroft Hall and the people milling about. So many friends and family. “Of a promise, I believe.”

Marian chuckled. “We have done well, Helena.”

“Yes, we have.” Helena nodded with satisfaction. “Between our two sons we have six grandchildren now, isn’t it? No, seven. I do tend to count the twins as one. Silly of me.”

“Soon to be eight,” Marian said smugly.

“The Loring girls have turned out nicely.” Helena nodded toward Charity and her new husband.

“Good breeding will tell.” Marian nodded.

“As well as an exceptional stepmother. Their father married wisely.”

“Indeed he did.” An innocent note sounded in the other woman’s voice. “And how is your Mr. Whiting?”

“My Mr. Whiting is delightful.” Helena had refused his proposals of marriage on a regular basis but thought this year, perhaps, she’d accept. It might be rather a lot of fun and Lord knew it would cease those forbidding looks Marcus cast her whenever Jeffrey’s name came up. “Quite delightful.”

“I was thinking of getting a new solicitor myself.” Marian flashed her a wicked grin, and both women laughed.

“Life has turned out exceptionally well, I think.” Indeed, Helena could not remember being quite as content as she had these past seven and a half years.

“We have accomplished all we set out to do and a bit more. Still…” Marian sighed, “I do rather miss the Ladies’ Society for the Betterment of the Future of Britain.”

“Nonsense. It’s just in something of a respite at the moment. All of us worked exceedingly hard for a time. And think of what fun we shall have when the next crop of offspring are ready for marriage.”

“Surely they will not be as resistant as their parents to the bonds of wedlock?”

“But where would be the challenge then?” Lady Berkley’s gaze met Helena’s, and the two friends burst into laughter.

“The truly delightful thing”—Marian struggled to regain her breath—“is that when the time comes we shall have the full support of their parents. Or at least their mothers.”

“Indeed, I cannot foresee a time when a mother worth the name would not wish to see her offspring make a proper match.”

“And with luck, find love as well.” Marian chuckled. “We are romantics, Helena.”

“Nonsense, Marian. In truth I think we are quite practical. I have no doubt there is little better in this life…” Her gaze drifted back to her future husband, and she smiled with the certain knowledge that all was right with the world. And even better, that she had had a hand in it.