The Reluctant Bride Collection Read online

  “And then you realized you could have more as my wife.”

  “And then I realized I could have everything as your wife.”

  And even she could hear that. The truth.

  She could have had everything with him. And here he was.

  She whispered, “Why are you here?”

  He opened his eyes.

  He didn’t look at her, just stood up and adjusted his coat.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  And he walked away.

  Honora huddled beneath the blanket after he left, cursing all men.

  George. The six who’d come before him. And the one who’d necessitated them all.

  She watched Chastity running around, playing with her sisters, and thought maybe her stepmother was right.

  She’d been worth all that was lost.

  You can have it back. Take it. Be brave.

  Be brave? She’d be angry.

  George had come here and made her say the truth to him and then he’d left?

  When he loved her, the real her, in return?

  The only one who ever had, and he’d left?

  Honora flung the blanket off and called, “Chastity. I need your parasol.”

  She’d go find him and poke at him until she had him right where she wanted. York was a small city; he’d found her, surely she could find him in return.

  Her father called out behind her, “Honora,” and when she turned, there was George standing next to him.

  Honora blinked and Chastity ran up to say, “Should I go get it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Charles called for all his children to gather round and held his hand out to his wife and when they were all in front of him, he smiled.

  “I have given my permission to Mr. St. Clair to marry Honora.”

  Fanny gasped and covered her mouth, the girls squealed with delight, and Honora stood absolutely still.

  “. . .You said I could marry him?”

  “We had a long conversation,” he began and Honora sucked in a breath.

  Her father continued over her. “And I am assured that not only does he know you very well, he also loves you.”

  Fanny pulled her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh!”

  “And I’m not going to say no to a viscount’s son, even if he is currently profession-less. He seems like a man with a plan.”

  Honora finally met George’s eyes and said, “He does?”

  “Oranges. And cigars.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “Steam?”

  George curled his lip. “Trade. But it is better than the alternative.”

  She whispered, “Marriage,” and he smiled.

  “It seemed better than the alternative.”

  When the girls had stopped squealing and Honora’s stepmother had stopped crying and her father had stopped thanking God for his good fortune, George held out his arm to Honora.

  They walked slowly around the perimeter of the garden and when they were far enough away from young ears, Honora said, “That was the worst marriage proposal I have ever heard of; you didn’t even ask me. I think you should do it again.”

  “How many times have you been proposed to, Honora?”

  “Including both of yours?”

  He nodded and she said, “Eight. And your two were, by far, the worst of the bunch.”

  “Eight is enough.”

  It was hard to argue with that even if she wanted to.

  She said, “You could have told me instead of leaving me there, alone. To worry. To get angry.”

  “I’ve been plenty worried and angry the last few months. I find I am more petty than I previously suspected.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. For the future.”

  He glanced down at her and she said softly, “Forgive me?”

  “Never. I will never forgive you for making me fall in love with you.”

  She swallowed, blinking back happy tears. “Petty, indeed. Haven’t you ever read Matthew 5:7? Blessed are the merciful: for they will be shown mercy.”

  He reached out, catching a lone tear with his thumb. “Blessed are ye that weep now: for ye shall laugh. Luke 6:21.”

  And she did.

  She looked behind her, at her family watching them, and gestured at the flower beds as if they were talking about the garden.

  She said, “They’re never going to leave us alone, not until the marriage deed is done, or else this would be a perfect moment to kiss you.”

  “Since I am no longer a man of the cloth, that is probably for the best. You are far too tempting for me to be kissing before we’re married.”

  “Father can get us a special license.”

  George shook his head. “No. No special license. The banns will be read and we’ll do this right.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at him because they hadn’t done anything right and he said, “Besides, it will give me time to hear from my father. I’ve proposed a business enterprise to him. If he says no, we’ll visit him after the wedding so you can change his mind.”

  “Does this enterprise have something to do with your steam?”

  “Our steam. We’re going to America. If my good friend Sinclair can take his bride to India and send back trinkets, I can take my bride to America and send back cigars and oranges.”

  Honora stopped and blinked, and George said softly, “You can’t stay here. In York. In England. Moffat will discover all your sins and then find you. A woman does not steal a man’s honor though the opposite happens with regular frequency.”

  “And you’re going to leave your home and family for me?”

  “I am.”

  “Because you love me?”

  “Because I never truly believed in God, or his love, before you. I studied and I knew the words and I knew what I should feel, but I never did. And then I found you and realized that He’d made you just for me. He made you hardened and cynical and unafraid. He made me heartbroken and prideful and slow to forgive–”

  She pointed at a tasteful grouping of trees and started walking toward them, tugging him along. “You forgot sour.”

  He smiled. “Sour, too. All so that when I met you, I would be able to do anything for you. So that when I had a choice to make, I could recognize it. So that I would know the difference between no choice and a hard choice.”

  “America,” she said slowly, never having considered it before. Then, “My aunt and uncle will be coming with us.”

  “I have family of my own that will need to be accommodated. Collin would benefit from their older, wiser touch because he seems far too interested in the idea of American women. Although, I don’t see that they ever had much luck with you.”

  “Don’t hold it against them.”

  “Oh, I think I’ve placed the blame squarely where it is due,” he said and she laughed.

  “I want Chastity to come to America, too. When she’s older. When she wants to. When we’re settled. I will never be her mother, I gave that up ten years ago, but I want to know her and I want her to know me.”

  And then she said, truthfully, “I’m afraid I don’t even know who Honora Kempe is.”

  “And I don’t think you should waste any more time on it. It is of far more importance to me who you decide Honora St. Clair will be.”

  She pulled him behind the nearest tree trunk, sliding her hands inside his coat and pulling his body tight against hers.

  He cupped her face with his hands, tracing her eyebrows with his thumbs and murmuring, “How was that proposal? Any better?”

  She nodded, a smile transforming her face. “Much better.”

  “Was that a yes?”

  “Was that a question?”

  “Oh, yes. My Honora.”

  She sighed happily, going to the tip of her toes to meet George’s lips with her own.

  Her father called her name, telling them both to come out from behind that tree, and the children giggled loudly.

  The wind whipped the leaves
of the trees into wild applause, the birds sang, and the sun shone brightly down on them.

  And she said, “Yes.”

  To George Sinclair, his wife Elinor, and their two lovely and (I am sure) wild children,

  I am sorry, old friend. I will not be joining you in the east. I am, as I write this, boarding a steam ship to the west. To America.

  One, it’s a shorter (thirteen days!) and faster (ten knots!) journey. And two, they make better cigars.

  I’ll send you some with the birth announcement. Honora assures me there is no chance of that happening before the ship makes land, and she usually says it with cutting droll, so I am forced to believe her.

  I am convinced you would love her– nearly as much as my Father does– which is reason number three we are heading to the opposite end of the world. I, at least, made certain your bride would never be tempted by me.

  Your friend, in love,

  George St. Clair

  * * *

  Copyright

  The Reluctant Bride Collection

  Copyright © 2014 by Megan Bryce

  To my husband-

  because I couldn’t do this,

  any of it,

  without him.

  [email protected]

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