Page 54 of The Widower Without a Will
“That you expect too much of yourself?”
“That trying not to do something wrong often leads to not doing the right thing.”Martin kissed her fingertips again.“In this case, I know the right thing is confessing my love for you.From there, I have some ideas, but it does depend on what you want.”
Martha whispered, “I never asked for anything from you, Lord Preston.”
He reached for her chin, pulling her close.“Perhaps you should.Perhaps you should demand to call me Martin.”
“Let me call you anything I want,” she breathed in reply.
“Fine, you may call me by any name.What else?Would you like me to leave you in peace?”
She shook her head, touching the tip of her nose to his.“No, I want you to stay.”
“Would you like me to marry you?”
Her breath stopped for a moment.“What would people say ifIwere to be Lady Preston?”
“My children are very much in favor of the idea, and based on Boyle’s enthusiasm for helping me find you, I gather the rest of the neighborhood would make no complaints.”
He could hear hope in how she swallowed.“What of London society?”
“They will have opinions, as they always do, but theirs are easy for me to ignore.”Bringing her hands to press against his chest, Martin said, “I am not sure I deserve you, Martha Bellamy, but I love your character, I love your body, and I love the partnership we found with each other.If you so desire it, I beg you, will you make me the happiest man and marry me?”
Martha was almost smiling.“Yes, I shall.”She leaned in so her lips hovered beyond his.“It is, according to my son, what two people do when they fall in love.”
“I think Lucas had that right.”Martin cradled her cheeks, savoring this woman who was such a surprising gift, before taking the kiss he had longed for since the moment he reached the crossroads.
TheywalkedbacktoBath hand in hand.Lord Preston led the horse by its reins, and when the road narrowed, he let Martha step ahead so they could go single file.Martha tried to accustom herself to calling him “Martin,” but he had been “Lord Preston”in her mind for so long that she wasn’t sure she could make the adjustment.She supposed he would marry her either way.
Marriage.As they ambled down the hill, Martha turned the idea over in her head, a little afraid of how giddy it made her.She had pictured marriage to Lord Martin Preston in her wildest moments at Northfield Hall—mostly in the aftermath of their lovemaking, when he curled around her for a snooze—but she had never considered it a practical possibility.She was too common, too old, and still in mourning for her first husband.
Now here she was, holding his hand in public.Every now and then, as they discussed the ruin of Northfield Hall, Martin’s words dried up so that he could smile at her, and then she couldn’t help but smile at him, and once they nearly walked off the road because they were so busy grinning about the future that lay ahead of them.
It would not be a simple future, and not just because they were of different classes.The family home was reduced to ashes, and it was not as easy as rebuilding what had previously been there.Lord Preston—Martin—faced a hundred decisions, big and small, in remaking Northfield Hall.“They are our decisions to make together,” he said, smiling at her, as he summed up his main concerns.“If they don’t scare you away, that is.”
“On the contrary.As you said, we make a good partnership.”Martha saw the opportunity for what it was: a chance for everyone to start anew.The old Northfield Hall had been a relic, and the new one would reinvigorate Martin’s vision for the estate, for his family—and for their marriage, where Martha would no longer have to fit into the boxed rooms of Martin’s established life.“Is Benjamin staying on as steward?”
“He and Lydia and the boys will remain until the summer, but then he is determined to return to his property in Ireland.He says it needs him more than Northfield Hall needs him.”For once, Martin didn’t look pained as he talked about a child wandering away from him.“He is doing good work there.”
“He is following in his father’s footsteps.”
“Doing better than his father.”Martin smiled.“However, now, among everything else, I must hire a steward who knows enough to be useful but will not impede the mission of Northfield.”
“Perhaps you need look no farther than Northfield Hall to find such a person.”
He looked at her as if such an idea had never occurred to him—and as if it were instantly blossoming into a hundred new ideas.Martha couldn’t help but giggle at this man who was so dear and so brilliant.
And now hers!
Martin kissed her fingertips again.“Oh, I have been remiss in giving you a letter that arrived from your niece.”He gestured at his coat pocket, so Martha helped herself to the letter.
It was a small piece of paper with not too many words.Bracing herself, Martha opened it, prepared to hear that Georgina did not have the heart to take in her poor, widowed aunt.
Instead, it was an invitation to come stay for as long as she needed.
“She says she has set aside a room for me close enough to the hearth that I won’t get cold in the winter.”
Martin raised an eyebrow.“Then you needn’t marry me out of desperation.”
