“Only a handful?” His tone was light, but his hands tensed in hers.
“I’ll restrain myself for now,” she said, “and delay the other million for some later time. First, what of your business in Toulouse? Will we live here, and if so, what do you plan to do?”
He met her eyes. “I sold my business three days ago; I knew I was returning to England. As for what I am planning to do…” He let out a sigh. “There’s no hope for it, but I am going to pretend to be respectable. If I had my way, I’d start a metalworks here. I’d never interfere with your paper unless you wanted, and alas, I fear that general illicit activities would cause you problems. So I’ll abstain as best I can.”
She nodded. “Only one more question.”
She could feel the tension in him, every muscle from his shoulders on down going rigid.
“And that is: Do you love me?”
“That is a waste of a question.” He let go of her hands, but only to put his arm around her waist and draw her to him. “You know I do. I promised that if you Mr. Clarked me one last time, I’d take my retribution. And while I’m hardly the sort to keep inconvenient promises, this one…”
He leaned into her. His forehead touched hers; her lips warmed with the flow of his breath.
“This promise,” he whispered to her, “is the opposite of inconvenient.”
Free let out a soft sigh and brought her face up that last half inch, touching their lips together. He tasted so sweet that she could scarcely believe that she was kissing him again after all this time. But she set her hands on his shoulders, and he was real and solid. Her body pressed against his. Her mouth opened to him. Kissing him felt like sipping lamplight; she became more radiant with every touch of their tongues.
“Free, darling.”
“Edward,” she breathed.
“I still don’t have a good reason for you to marry me, but I have a multitude of bad ones. It’s impulsive. It’s foolish. I’m a scoundrel. There’s too much I haven’t told you, and no time for me to explain everything. You’ll hate me at least three times after this, before I convince you to love me.” His arm slipped down her body, pulling her even closer.
“But will you?” she asked. “Convince me?”
“Probably not,” he said huskily. For all the carefree tone of his voice, his eyes told a different story. He kissed her again, a long lingering kiss.
She couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Months of correspondence—some of it warm enough to heat her for nights—still hadn’t prepared her for this. He’d sold his business, come to London, and obtained a special license?
It all seemed to be happening so swiftly. Almost too swiftly.
“That special license you claim to have.” She swallowed. “Is that a real special license, or is it the Edward sort of special license?”
He leaned down and kissed her again. “You think I’d procure a false license? For God’s sake, Free. I’m trying to rush you into marriage. I have no desire to end that state any time soon. The only thing I forged was proof of my residency, and my solicitor assures me that can’t be used to invalidate a duly issued license. I asked.”
“Oh,” she said. She wanted to laugh. “Very well, then. I’m convinced.”
His hand tightened on hers. “Is that an I’m convinced it’s a real license, or…”
From the moment she’d received his telegram, they’d been coming to this. No, from before. Every instant since she’d met him had been leading to this pinnacle.
She smiled up at him. “Neither. It’s more like this: You idiot, why did it take you so long?”
Chapter Eighteen
AFTER THE WHIRL OF THE NEXT FEW HOURS, Edward couldn’t quite believe that it had really happened.
Frederica Marshall had married him. With scarcely a thought, without a moment’s hesitation. Tomorrow, she’d find out who he was and what he had planned. But tonight…
The sun had not yet set. They stood on the doorstep of her home, so newly completed that he could still smell the clean scent of sawn boards. He had his arm around her, refusing to let go for fear that she might come to her senses and leave at any moment.
“I’m off to London,” Lady Amanda was saying to Free. She had been one of their witnesses. “I had planned to go down early for the demonstration, and, well…” She glanced at Edward, and shrugged her shoulders. “All the more reason for me not to change my plans. I’m just here to get my bag.”
“Are you still speaking to Genevieve tomorrow?” Free asked.
Lady Amanda flushed faintly. “Yes.” She glanced over at Edward again, and then looked away. But even though the glance she cast him was suspicious, she didn’t say a word.
He appreciated Lady Amanda’s silence, even though he didn’t deserve any circumspection. There would be time enough for Amanda to tell Free what he was.