Finding Hope (Mail Order Bride: Brides And Promises Book 1) Page 11

  Throwing the reins over a post, Thomas ran onto the platform, shouting Grace’s name. He didn’t hesitate but stepped inside the train, making his way quickly through each carriage, looking at each and every passenger.

  “Grace!” he called, astonished to find tears pricking in his eyes as he reached the last carriage. “Grace, if you’re here, please don’t hide. I need to talk to you.”

  There was no answering reply. Nobody responded. Had he already missed her somehow? Or was she trying her best to hide from him, desperately wanting to forget all that they had shared?

  Sighing heavily, Thomas leaned forward and closed his eyes, feeling the dull ache in his throat. He was at a loss at what to do.

  The whistle sounded. He had to leave.

  “Thomas?”

  A white face appeared from one of the seats, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Grace!”

  He caught her hand and pulled her towards the door, finding that she didn’t refuse in any way. Shouting at one of the porters to get her luggage off the train as fast as they could, he tugged Grace onto the platform, weak with relief that he had managed to find her in time. The porters shouted at one another as Grace’s luggage was quickly handed off the train, which was already starting to leave.

  “Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness,” he breathed, tugging her close and holding her tight, hardly able to believe he had her in his arms. “Grace, whatever were you thinking?”

  He stepped back and looked into her face, seeing the paleness of her cheeks and the grief in her eyes.

  “Grace,” he whispered, touching her cheek gently. “I cannot tell you how sorry I am.”

  She shook her head, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Thomas, I’m not the person you thought I was. I can’t hold that against you.”

  “No, no,” he replied fervently. “I was the one in the wrong. You made a mistake, and you owned it. It had nothing to do with me. It was my fault, all my fault. I should never have spoken so harshly to you.” His eyes caught hers, searching for what he hoped would be there. “Is there any chance you can forgive me, Grace? Do I have any hope?”

  Her expression softened, tears dripping from her lashes and onto her cheek. “I forgive you, Thomas,” she whispered, her voice so quiet he could hardly hear her.

  Crushing her against him for a long moment, Thomas felt as though he wanted to laugh and cry and shout aloud all at once. “My goodness, Grace, don’t ever frighten me like that again,” he said in her ear, feeling her shiver in his arms. “I can’t ever lose you.”

  Letting her go, he led her over to a small wooden bench, and together, they watched the train leave.

  “I was meant to be on that,” Grace whispered, glancing up at him. “I couldn’t stay, Thomas. Not when you said…”

  “I know what I said, and it was foolish of me,” Thomas answered, wishing he could take back every word. “You are everything I thought you were, Grace. You are kind and generous and more caring and compassionate than anyone I have ever known. I am honored to know you. My aunt has been blessed with your company, and now I find that you’ve given me what I need to keep my farm going.” He could hardly speak for a moment, still overwhelmed by what she had done. “You gave me almost everything you had, Grace,” he whispered, touching her cheek gently. “Why did you do that?”

  She lifted one shoulder, her eyes not quite meeting his. “Because I want you to succeed. I want your farm to remain in your family for generations, and because I didn’t have any need for that money. What else are we to do but to share what we have with others?”

  “But what would you have done if you had left?” Thomas asked, searching her face. “You would have needed that money.”

  A small smile touched the corners of her mouth, and she pressed his hand. “I had enough to rent a small place, and I can cook and sew well enough. I would have made do.” She leaned forward, as though wanting him to believe every word she said. “I have never once regretted what I did, Thomas. Not even when I believed there wasn’t to be any future for us. You have to know that.”

  “I do not deserve to have you in my life,” Thomas replied, his heart filling with love for the lady who sat in front of him. “You are generous beyond anything I have ever known.”

  She frowned, her expression growing wary. “Is that why you kept me from leaving? Because you feel that you owe me in some way?”

  Thomas couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “Oh no, my dear Grace, I came to stop you because I realized I love you.”

  Grace stared at Thomas, her hands tightening on his. Had she really heard those words from his mouth?

  “I mean it, Grace,” he continued, as though aware of her scrutiny. “I love you with all my heart.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes, her happiness overflowing. She had been set on leaving, set on starting a new life for herself somewhere. She was utterly determined to try and forget the pain of leaving Thomas—only for him to find her, pull her from the train, and now declare his love for her. She had to take a few steadying breaths, her lips trembling as he caressed the curve of her cheek, his touch tender and filled with promise.

  “Tell me you love me too, Grace,” he whispered, his breath brushing over her skin. “Tell me that I’m not too late, that I’ve not been so foolish as to push you away.”

  Closing her eyes, Grace drew in a shaky breath, her heart soaring. “No, Thomas, you are not too late.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, every part of her being crying out with love for him. “You could never be too late. I wanted to leave because I couldn’t bear being in love with you and knowing that there could never be a future for us. I knew that I would never love another; I knew that my heart would always belong to you. I couldn’t bear the thought of that pain, and so that was why I wanted to leave.” She smiled as he touched her cheek, brushing away her tears with his fingers. “I have never loved before, but I know this is not something that will ever leave me. It fills my heart, fills my entire self. I love you, Thomas. You mean more to me than the world.”

  His lips met hers almost at once, catching her gasp as he pressed his mouth to hers, pulling her against him. She melted against him, her arms twining around his neck as her future brightened before her. Dreams that had died slowly came to life again, her darkness turning back into dawn. His lips were soft and warm, his hands holding her so tightly that it felt as though he would never let her go.

  “Grace,” he whispered against her mouth, hardly breaking the kiss. “Grace, will you marry me?”

  Startled, she pulled back, looking into his eyes.

  “I want you as my wife,” he said quietly. “You came to marry someone else, but you were never meant to marry George Stubbs. You were meant to marry me.”

  Grace caught his hands, her smile brighter than it had ever been before. “I will marry you, Thomas. I will marry you this very moment if you want!”

  He threw his head back and laughed, pulling her into his arms again. “I think Aunt Mary would have something to say about that if we went back to the house as husband and wife.” Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, a smile in his eyes. “Then again, you have already got all your things packed.”

  “I wouldn’t want to leave Mary alone,” Grace said softly. “She needs me. She needs company.”

  Thomas chuckled and got to his feet, taking her hand in his. “Of course, you would think of her, Grace. Yes, of course, she still needs you. How about I build a house close to her own? It means we’d practically be on each other’s doorsteps and she’d never have cause to feel alone.” His eyes twinkled as he smiled down at her. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll be a doting aunt when the time comes.”

  Grace caught her breath, the promise of her future sparkling in front of her. “Oh, Thomas,” she breathed, as his arm slid around her waist. “I love you.”

  “And I love you, Grace,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her. “And I’m not letting you go again. Let’s go and see if we c
an find that preacher.”

  * * *

  THE END

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  Text Copyright © 2017 & 2018

  by Caroline Johnson and Eleanor Swan

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2018

  Publisher

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  Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

  Regency Romances

  Part I

  A Duke to the Rescue

  1

  “Good morning, Your Grace.”

  The Duke of Hawdon opened his eyes blearily, a little befuddled. It seemed far too early in the morning for anyone to be rousing him, and he certainly would not have brought a woman to bed. Yet, a female voice was speaking to him, rousing him from his slumber.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I said, good morning, Your Grace.”

  "Good gracious!" Amos suddenly realized a woman was standing before him, a mischievous look on her face.

  “What’s the matter, Your Grace?”

  Amos rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of his bare chest. He focused on the woman's face as a sudden realization swamped him. Narrowing his eyes, he identified her as the new housekeeper. He rolled his eyes.

  “Woman, I have had enough. I have warned you before; I do not dally with my staff. Take yourself away from my room—and from my house. Your employment is terminated.”

  Shock flooded the lady’s face as she stuttered, tugging the sheet a little more tightly around her. “Your Grace,” she spluttered. “By your many looks and flirtations, I assumed you cared for me.”

  "Those were of your own imaginings," Amos replied curtly, wishing that he'd been a little more self-aware.

  His new housekeeper was, indeed, a pretty lady—if that could be said of the hired help. He enjoyed flirting with her, but she had taken it far too seriously. “I will, however, write you a reference,” he finished, taking a little of the sting from his blow. He did it only because this was partly his fault; he should never have looked twice at the woman.

  "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, quietly, her voice full of unshed tears.

  He did not look at her again, waiting for the door to click shut before he got to his feet. Running a hand through his hair, he cursed himself again for his idiocy. He had been far too lax with his flirtations, knowing full well that his reputation preceded him. He liked to smile and flirt with women, even with the women in his employment. He enjoyed their blushes and sparkling smiles. However, the ton would be vastly surprised if they had known that Amos had never taken a mistress, or even enjoyed a liaison with an actress, as so many of his counterparts did.

  He enjoyed kisses from a woman, of course, but he had never let it go too far. His handsome face, along with the occasional rumor about his antics, kept the ladies sighing over him. Amos would be lying if he said he did not appreciate the attention.

  Of course, Amos had to marry. Being a duke, it was expected of him to produce an heir and to produce one fairly soon. His mother lived in the dowager house back in the country. Whilst she was a loving mother in all respects, she was growing restless over his refusal to marry. Amos was waiting for something. He wanted love; he wanted romance and passion — not simply a ‘good match’ as his mother and father once had. They had never loved each other, his mother had once confessed. They had gotten on well, and had been dear friends, but that was all. Amos refused to choose that for himself. His self-imposed celibacy was for good cause. His wife would be the one he loved and the only one he took to bed. Until then, let the ton talk.

  Sighing, Amos dressed quickly and made his way to the dining room. He would break his fast and then set about finding himself a new housekeeper. Perhaps, his friend, Bernard, Earl Heber, would know someone.

  "Good morning, Heber," he said, completely unsurprised at his friend's early appearance. Having stayed up too late the previous evening, Amos insisted that Bernard spend the night in his townhouse. The man could not have ridden home and was practically falling asleep by the time they'd made it to the front door. Amos was pleased to see a hot cup of coffee waiting for him, although Bernard looked a little worse for wear.

  “Sleep well?”

  Bernard groaned. “Remind me never to touch a drop of port again.”

  Amos laughed, filling his plate before he sat down at the table. “I am sure I will see you with a glass of port in your hand by the end of the week,” he replied, still laughing at Bernard’s miserable face. “Although I hope, by now, you have gotten over your misery.”

  “I shall never get over it,” Bernard said, stoically. “Lady Heston betrothed? It has devastated my heart.”

  Hiding his grin by bringing his coffee cup to his lips, Amos refrained from rolling his eyes. Bernard was in love every week, it seemed, with a different young woman every time. He flitted from lady to lady, extolling her virtues every time he and Amos were together. "I am sure you will get over her in time," he replied. "Perhaps there may be a new beauty to catch your eye at Lady Haye's ball tomorrow?"

  Bernard sat up a little straighter, a sudden spark in his eyes. “Oh yes, I had quite forgotten! Mayhap I shall meet some new, eligible young lady who will take the pain from my heart.”

  “Indeed,” Amos replied dryly. “In the meantime, perhaps you can help me find a new housekeeper.”

  “Another one?” Bernard asked, astonished. “What happened this time?”

  "The same as the last one," Amos sighed, slumping in his chair. "There are times when these rumors about me are more of a hindrance than a help."

  "The problem is that you keep hiring women who have either a pretty face or bountiful curves. And you insist on prac
ticing your flirtation on them! Simply hire a housekeeper with a plain face and keep your flirtations for the eligible ladies of the ton.”

  Amos sighed. “I suppose you are right. I shall have to be more careful in my selection.”

  Nodding, Bernard toasted Amos with his coffee cup.

  “To finding a plain, unassuming and completely ordinary housekeeper.”

  “Cheers,” Amos replied.

  2

  “Godmother, you know I wouldn’t come to you for help unless it was of the greatest urgency.”

  Esther waited with bated breath for what Agnes would have to say. Her situation was desperate, and she had no other way out.

  Agnes let out a long breath. “Esther, I don’t know what to tell you. I cannot hide you here; this is one of the first places he would look.”

  Esther dropped her head, feeling the tears coming. “I do not know what else to do, Godmother. Father has me trapped and he knows it.”

  “If only your poor mama was still alive,” Agnes replied heavily.

  “I know,” Esther whispered, a tear dripping down her cheek. “I miss her so.”

  Esther's mother died five years ago, leaving the then sixteen-year-old as mistress of the home. Esther had taken it in stride, taking comfort from her older, married sister who had been expecting her first child at that time. Unfortunately, her father had not taken it so well, keeping to his study and eventually becoming something of a recluse, only going out in the evenings to gamble. Esther fared badly under his harsh ways. As the years passed, she was allowed less and less into society. No balls, no parties, just some visits with friends on occasion. She was grateful her father allowed her out to see her godmother, Lady Heber.