Page 62 of Rakes & Reticules
He spread his arms.
“Can you forgive me, Siobhan? Please?”
With a small cry, she flew into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as if her very life depended upon it, her small breasts burning dual holes in his chest. Honeysuckle and jasmine wafted from her freshly washed skin.
Fletcher’s soul took to wing in exaltation, singing with joy that this tiny woman with her big heart could forgive his foolhardiness and inconsideration.
“I was so afraid,” she whispered into his neck. “Not for myself, but for you. Paddy. Kimber.”
“I know, my darling.” He kissed her crown, inhaling her intoxicating warmth and essence. “I vow I shall never keep another secret from you as long as I live.”
She leaned back, searching his face. “That’s an awful long time.”
“Hopefully, several decades.” Grinning, he slid his fingers into that silky mane of midnight hair that had entranced him for so long. “I suppose you shall have to marry me to ensure I keep my word.”
Moisture glistened in her eyes.
“Do you love me, Fletcher?”
“More than life itself. More than I ever conceived was possible to love another person. I want you to be the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning and the last thing when I fall asleep. I want to experience all that life offers with you, Paddy, and Kimber.” He winked and patted her delectable bottom. “And our children, of course. Lots of them.”
“I love you too.”
A brilliant smile blossomed on her face, humbling him that she could love him, a scoundrel and a rake.
Somewhere in the club, a clock tolled midnight.
Siobhan pulled his head downward and lifted her chin. “Kiss me.”
The world stood still as he explored her mouth and swept his hands over her gentle curves. When at last he lifted his head, she stared up at him, lips plump and red.
“I think we should marry straight away,” she said breathlessly.
“Nowthatis a grand plan.”
EPILOGUE
A fortnight later
D la Chance’s private salon
With a hand on her new husband’s arm, Siobhan fairly floated on air. All Fletcher’s immediate family had come to London for their simple wedding except for Leonidas and Primrose, still on their honeymoon. His cousins Torrian and Cortland Marlow-Westbrook and Cortland’s family also attended.
Never could she have dreamed when her family moved to London, and she’d been forced to impersonate a boy that she’d become Mrs. Fletcher Westbrook. Nor could she have imagined the warm welcome to the large family that she’d received.
Most surprising was the Duke and Duchess of Latham’s genuine cordiality which they had extended toward her since their timely arrival in London nearly two weeks ago. Neither of their graces seemed the least concerned that their son had married an Irish commoner. But then, their other daughters-in-law were Spanish, French, and Scottish.
The Westbrooks seemed to enjoy turning society on its head with their unique brides.
Both Huxleys currently resided in Newgate Prison. Lord Huxley had believed he’d fare better than his lunatic wife by turning on her, but his hands were too soiled to walk free. Lady Huxley probably ought to have been committed to an insane asylum, but such things took time, and in the meanwhile, she been placed where all attempted murderesses warranted.
Fletcher had petitioned the courts to have the undesirable pair sentenced to a penal colony in Australia for life rather than hang for their offenses. He’d come by the idea after learning of her parents’ unjust sentence.
Only time would tell whether his plea for mercy would be honored.
Siobhan wasn’t certain she’d have been able to extend such benevolence.
Across the crowded room, Rémi and Nathalia Lemieux, Aurelie, Marchioness of Edenhaven’s niece and nephew, played marbles with Paddy and Kimber.
