He went perfectly still. "Urn, no. No objection."

"But not just beautiful on the outside," she said, her eyes steady on his. "Beautiful on the inside. Kind, generous, and tender. Indeed, the most wonderful man I've ever met."

His heart slapped hard against his ribs, pumping with sudden hope. "I must say, you've gotten quite good at this repeating game."

She did not smile. Indeed, he'd never seen her more serious. "I told you I was afraid of duplicating my mistakes, and I am. And the biggest mistake I ever made was pushing you away, believing that I could live my life without you." She raised his hand to her lips and pressed a warm kiss against his skin. "I almost lost you today, and that is a mistake I will never make again. I love you, Robert." The words breathed across his skin. "W.A.M.H." Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "With All My Heart."

"Allie." It was the only word he could manage. He tugged on her hand, and she leaned down. He slipped his hand into her soft hair, pulling her lower until their lips met. At last.

He attempted to raise his other arm to hold her, and pain sizzled through his shoulder, forcing a sharp grunt from his throat.

She pulled back, looking down at him with stricken eyes. "I hurt you."

"On the contrary, you've made me extremely happy." He brushed his fingers over her smooth cheek. "Um, just to make certain I'm correct with all the details, given my head injury and all that, you did just tell me you love me-correct?"

A slow, beautiful smile lit her face. "Correct." She placed her palm against his cheek, and he breathed in the delicious scent of honeysuckle.

"God knows I don't want to say anything to jeopardize this reunion, but there is a point we need to settle. Now. So it can be laid to rest." He searched her eyes. "What about my past, Allie? I cannot change it. And as much as I do not want secrets between us, there are things about that night I cannot share with you."

Her smile faded, her eyes again growing serious. "I do not want secrets, either. But I can accept that you have reasons that are obviously compelling to you. I believe in your integrity. And I trust you. Completely."

His heart performed a slow roll. He clearly sensed that she wanted to know the details about the fire, and he would have given almost anything to oblige her, but, incredibly, she loved him enough not to press him. "Thank you," he said.

A frown creased her brow. "There is something else, Robert. Can you accept the fact that I cannot have children?"

"I know you are convinced that you are barren, yet I am not


as sure," he said. "But should that turn out to be a fact, then, yes, I can accept it."

She lowered her gaze. "You would make a wonderful father-"

"Allie." He lifted her chin until she looked at him. "If we cannot make a child together, we will lavish our attention on our nieces and nephews together. You'll note that the important word in that sentence is 'together.' And as long as we are, there is nothing we cannot do."

A smile lifted one corner of her lips. "That is one of the things I love most about you. Your optimism."

"One of the things you love about me? I could be convinced to listen to more."

"I'd be happy to comply, but I'm afraid it would take me a very long time to tell you all of them."

"Indeed? How long?"

"Forty years."

They stared at each other for several heartbeats, and all the love he ever could have hoped for, glowed in her golden-brown eyes. He pressed a kiss into her palm. "As luck would have it," he said, "I happen to be free for the next forty years.".

Chapter 25

The next morning, with bright sunshine pouring through her bedchamber window, Allie adjusted the cream fichu Elizabeth had given her, then examined her reflection in the cheval glass. She wished she owned a gown in a color other than black to wear on this happy occasion, but as she did not, at least the ivory-colored lace at her throat somewhat relieved her unrelenting somber attire. There was her beautiful gold gown, of course, but it was not a garment suited for the daytime. Soon… soon she would have pastel gowns to wear, and she would pack away these morbid clothes with the rest of her past and embrace her bright future.

Leaving her bedchamber, she had to force herself not to skip down the corridor and giggle. Last night she and Robert had agreed to announce their engagement to the entire family during breakfast this morning. Amazement filled her that a mere twenty-four hours ago her future had seemed so bleak, and now she was near to bursting with happiness and anticipation of starting her life again. Here. With Robert. And once the announcement was made, she planned to write a long, newsy letter to her family, inviting them to visit. To see Mama and Papa, Katherine and the boys again… yes, the future looked very bright indeed.

She'd just started down the wide staircase when she saw Fenton, on his way up. "Mrs. Brown," he said when they met halfway. "I was just on my way to deliver you a message. There is a Mrs. Morehouse here to see you. She awaits you in the drawing room."

Allie frowned. "I do not know anyone by that name."

"She lives in the village. Her husband worked in the Bradford Hall stables before his death."

"Why does she wish to see me?"

"She did not say. She only indicated that it was important she see you right away."

Puzzled and curious, Allie followed Fenton to the drawing room. Opening the door, he announced, "Mrs. Brown," then withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Allie walked into the room, offering a smile to the woman standing near the French windows. She was small and plump, with gray hair tucked beneath a dark green bonnet, which matched her pelisse. She clutched her reticule and appeared nervous.

After licking her lips, she inclined her head. "Good mornin', Mrs. Brown. My name is Sara Morehouse."

"How do you do, Mrs. Morehouse. Fenton said you wished to see me." She studied the woman's face, but felt no flash of recognition. "Have we met?"

"No, ma'am. But I need to speak to you, just the same."

"Of course," Allie agreed, totally at sea. "Would you like to sit down?"

Mrs. Morehouse nodded. After they settled themselves on the brocade settee, she said, " 'Tis about Lord Robert. You're makin' a terrible mistake."

Allie's brows shot upward. "What do you mean?"

"Yesterday I received a letter from the duchess. Lovely, kind lady the duchess is, always takin' time to correspond with me, tellin' me about the family. In this letter she mentioned that Lord Robert had fallen in love and asked for your hand, but you'd refused him. Because of the crime he'd committed. Because of the fire." Mrs. Morehouse worried the strings of her reticule. "He won't tell you the truth about that night 'cause he's honorable and bound by his word. He made a promise to my husband, and he's kept it all these years to protect us, but I cannot allow it to deprive him of a wife and marriage and the family he deserves." She drew herself up and lifted her chin. "You need to know, and I am not bound by any such vow."

"Mrs. Morehouse." Allie reached out and touched the agitated woman's hand. "I appreciate this, but I assure you, it is not necessary for you to tell me anything. I accepted Lord Robert's proposal last evening. I love him deeply, and his past does not matter."

The older woman nodded slowly. "I'm glad to hear you say it, Mrs. Brown. And I'm very happy for you and Lord Robert. You sayin' that I don't need to tell you just proves I'm right to trust you with the truth. Lord Robert and the duchess both love you, and that's proof enough that you're honorable." Her voice took on a brisk edge. "I know how secrets can eat away at a soul, and I don't want any secrets between Lord Robert and his wife. He risked everything for my family. It's about time I gave him something in return. I only ask that you not tell anyone else. For the sake of my daughter and her family."

"All right."

Mrs. Morehouse's fingers tightened around her reticule, turning her knuckles white. "Mrs. Brown, Lord Robert did not start the fire in the smithy that night. My husband Nate did."

Confusion filled Allie and she frowned. "But… how is that possible? Robert told me he caused the fire. He said he was responsible, that a building was lost. That a man lost his life."

"Lord Robert took the blame for startin' that fire to save my husband and my family, but it was my Nate who struck the match and set the smithy ablaze."

Allie's head swam with questions. She managed to push one word past her suddenly dry lips. "Why?"

"Four years ago, Cyril Owens, the village blacksmith, forced himself on my daughter Hannah. Nate and I, we didn't know what was wrong with Hannah, and we were so worried about her. She was sixteen at the time, and almost overnight she changed from smilin' and laughin' into withdrawn and morose."

Pity filled Allie, and she once again laid her hand over Mrs. Morehouse's. "I'm so sorry. What a terrible ordeal for anyone to suffer."

Mrs. Morehouse nodded, and her eyes dampened with unshed tears. "Lord Robert discovered the truth one night when he overheard Cyril braggin' in a London pub. He came directly to Nate and told him, promisin' to go with Nate the next day to talk to the duke so the duke could dispense justice. But Nate… he didn't wait. He was a good man, a law-abidin' man, but after hearin' what Cyril had done to Hannah, it were like somethin' inside him snapped. He went to the smithy. He let the horses out, then doused the place with lantern oil and set it ablaze."

"Dear God," Allie whispered.

"The mornin' after the fire, Cyril went to the duke, wantin' Nate charged with arson. Wanted to see him hang. Said he saw Nate lettin' the horses go, then settin' his business on fire. So there we were, Nate bedridden, fightin' for every breath 'cause his lungs were so damaged from breathin' in the smoke, both of us expectin' him to be hauled off in chains to be deported or hung for arson. Much as we wanted to accuse Cyril of rapin' Hannah, we knew it would be her word against his, and no matter the outcome, Hannah's reputation would be ruined.