Page 59 of The Allure Of Lord Devlin
What a bloody fool he’d been. She’d tried to tell him that the past was for the dead and the future for the living. To his everlasting shame, he’d taken for granted that his future would be secure once the stain of treason was removed from the family, but it wasn’t. If Dharma died, his future would be bleak and filled with regret. Filled with the regret that he’d not opened his heart to her immediately.
“I remember the first moment I really saw you,” he whispered, a small smile playing on his lips. “You were like a vision, an angel sent from above in your delicate night robe, gliding through the room studying the books in the library at Charlotte’s house party. I remember thinking, how had I not noticed you’d become this beautiful woman? But then, when I got to know you, I realized you were so much more than your beauty. You are a woman who completes me.”
Dharma’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to focus on him. A faint smile graced her lips, and she whispered his name, a barely audible plea for reassurance.
Devlin’s heart leapt with hope. “Yes, my love,” he said, his voice filled with tenderness.
But her eyes drifted closed once more.
He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her fevered forehead, his lips lingering there as he willed all the love he felt for her to flow through the touch. He silently prayed to any power that might be listening, begging for her recovery, promising to spend his life cherishing and protecting the woman he couldn’t bear to lose.
During the seventh night of his continued quiet vigil, Devlin remained steadfast by his love’s bedside.
Philippa came to offer him food and drink, but he shook his head. “You’ll do her no good if you get sick, too.” When he said nothing, she continued. “And if she woke up now, she’d hardly recognize you. You need a shave and a bath. Go home and rest. I’ll send someone if the fever breaks and she wakes.”
But what if she didn’t wake? What if she died, and he wasn’t here with her?He had left his father that night and looked at what had happened. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words out loud.
He heard a second set of footsteps behind him, and a small hand landed on his shoulder. “Come home, brother. You need rest and they need to bathe Dharma.” He looked up into the sorrow filled eyes of his sister Rosemary. “She would want you to deal with the aftermath of Fencourt’s confession, and the correspondence is piling up to get into the good graces of the newly cleared Marquis of Devlin. If nothing else, mother needs you. She can’t deal with this on her own. She’s overwhelmed and unsure of whom to accept. Being out of society for so long, she is floundering.”
Duty. He rolled his shoulders and stood up to hug Rosemary. Hehadworked hard for this, and he owed it to his father, but most of all he owed it to his wronged mother to ease the family back into the bosom of society, although why he wanted their approval, he didn’t know.
For the future. For his wife. For his children. For Dharma….
He looked at her whimpering form laying so delicately between life and death, and his body clenched in fear. Clearing his father meant nothing unless she was by his side. He bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “Fight. Fight hard to come back to me.”
* * *
Devlin sat quietly before the fire in his bedchamber, drinking a glass of warming brandy. It wasn’t a cold night, yet he welcomed the alcohol’s burn to warm the ice that filled his heart. His legs stretched out toward the hearth. He could feel the heat from the fire on the soles of his feet, but the worry gnawing at his guts didn’t ease.
Since capturing Fencourt he’d not been able to rest or have a moment to himself, and he needed to think through the implications of all that had occurred—Fencourt’s confession to Lord Liverpool and Prinny changed his and his family’s world—for the better.
Tonight, when he got home from Dharma’s bedside, his mother handed him a silver tray piled with correspondence. At his mother’s urging, he had written to his brothers, giving them the news and telling them to come home. He prayed it wasn’t too late. He sent a letter to Harry in India, but God knew where George was, so he had no idea how long the message would take to reach him, if it even did. He should have done this immediately, but Dharma was his priority.
His lips curved in a warm smile. His father would be proud of him. Proud, not because he’d done what he’d vowed to do. No, his father would smile down on him because one moment’s clarity revealed to Devlin what was truly important in life. Life was to be lived, with and for the living, and he’d stupidly spent the past ten years chasing the dead. It didn’t matter what society thought. He knew that now. His friends and family were his reason for being. All that mattered was what kind of man he was in the eyes of family. In the eyes of those he loved.
Shame gnawed at his empty stomach. His living family. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a pertinent conversation with his mother or his sister. Thank God Rosemary had Dharma’s friendship. Without his help, Rosemary had managed to attract the attentions of a fine man. He hoped she was planning a marriage with Hawthorne because she loved him, not because she was worried that due to scandal he was her only option. He should make that clear to her. Did she still wish to marry Hawthorne? What were her dreams, her hopes? What kind of woman had she developed into? He didn’t know the answers, and that saddened and embarrassed him.
Then there was Dharma. He took a deep breath.
He knew that he’d never want any other woman. She had challenged him at Charlotte’s house party and he hadn’t liked what she’d made obvious. That he was a man floundering on the verge of losing everything and looking for a way out.
She’d brought out the best and worst in him, and still she’d come to his aid at great risk to herself. He gave a sigh and felt his body quicken. Did she love him?
He thought she probably did because she risked her life to save him. And he really wanted the opportunity to tell her how much he loved her. If she died with never hearing those words from his lips… He dropped his head in his hands on an anguished cry.
He sat silently, wallowing in his helplessness, and reached for the cards that were piled high on the tray his mother left for him. He opened the first one. An invitation from Baron Hampton to join him and his family for a dinner he’d hold in Lord Devlin’s honor. He let the missive drop to the floor. Lord Hampton, he frowned—who was he—oh, hell… Devlin barely remembered the man considering he made a point of leaving any room Devlin walked in to.My, my word travels fast.He knew Hampton had a daughter. It looked as though Hampton was after a Marquis for his daughter.
Each note was along the same lines. Invitations to balls, house parties and even to welcome him back to his rightful place in the House of Lords… His world was expanding and he hated the hypocrisy of it all, even while acknowledging he was going to have to be gracious in his re-entry into Society’s good graces.
About half way through the pile, he recognized a seal, and his hands shook as he opened it. It was from Lord Whetton.This should be interesting…
To Warwick Sneddon, Marquis of Devlin
I am humbled to the very core of my being as I pen this letter, for the weight of my transgressions against you and your late father lays heavy upon my conscience. With a heart burdened by remorse, I offer you my most sincere and groveling apology.
I must confess that in the past, I held a misguided belief regarding your father's actions, a belief that cast a dark shadow upon his name. I, in my ignorance and misjudgment, believed that he had committed an act of treason against our noble realm. I allowed this belief to cloud my judgment, to distance myself from a dear friend, and for that, I am truly, deeply sorry.
It has come to my attention that a thorough investigation has posthumously exonerated your late father, revealing the unjustness of my doubts and suspicions. I stand here, my heart heavy with the gravity of my error, and with the deepest regret that I did not stand by his side, nor yours, during those trying times. I can hardly find the words to express how much I regret the suffering this must have caused you and your family.
