One More Kiss

CHAPTER Forty-one





“AN INTERESTING PROPOSAL, my lord.” Abel Brent rubbed his chin. “Almost as interesting as realizing that you have some brains in that head of yours.”

Jess swallowed the insult and waited, wondering if he should admit it was all Cecilia’s idea. Hell, no. It might have been her idea but he was the one who had brains enough to see it as a viable business idea.

The silence between them stretched. Finally Brent began to nod, as though he was almost convinced. “The idea of controlling a fuel source is new to me. I’d thought of investing in a ship but your suggestion expands that concept and opens up other opportunities.” Brent leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Garrett and his wife took me aside this afternoon and told me the truth about Crenshaw’s divorce.”

Just could not let me handle this myself, could you two? That’s what families did, he guessed. He would call it meddling. They would respond, “For your own good.”

“It does not change my disgust with you for taking advantage of my daughter. I know she can be provocative but I would have thought you were worldly enough to resist that particular temptation.”

“I thought so, too, Mr. Brent. We were both wrong. Beatrice is an amazing woman, curious and inquisitive, generous and loving. But I am sure you know all that already.”

“Harumph” was Brent’s only reply.

Jess knew he should apologize for his behavior but it would be a lie to say he was sorry for it. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused her, sir. I apologize for the embarrassment I caused you and her sister and the countess. I was hoping that you would accept my apology and we could move on.”

“So you have the land back from Lord Crenshaw’s estate?”

“Not yet, sir,” Jess admitted, “but I have already taken steps in that direction and am assured that the land is not part of the entail.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see.”

“But I do not need to wait for the eventuality. My family owns other land that is mined and I am sure that something can be worked out to our families’ mutual advantage.”

“Does not your brother have first claim on that?”

“Not if I think of it before him.”

Brent made a sound that was part laughter and part respect.

“For how long would you be willing to lease the property, my lord? And the mining rights?”

Here was the hard part, Jess thought. “For as long as Beatrice will allow it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I want to marry your daughter, sir. I would have said that I will lease the land to you as long as our marriage lasts, but since I have been involved in a divorce already, that might not convey the depth of my commitment to her.”

“You want to marry her? Or is it that you feel compelled to offer for her after she provided you with an alibi?”

“My behavior with your daughter has not been admirable. But as someone pointed out to me recently, I can change any time I choose to. I choose to now, and with Beatrice at my side I know that change will last.”

Mr. Brent shook his head and Jess’s heart fell. Was he going to say no?

“The girl is willful and opinionated, my lord.”

“Two things I love about her, sir.”

Brent looked at him with interest, as his whole body relaxed a little. “She is endlessly curious.”

“What I love best.” Jess could not help smiling at the thought.

“You will give up gaming,” the older man commanded. Jess’s smile had apparently darkened Brent’s mood again.

“That I cannot do,” Jess said.

Brent’s face went from dark to stormy.

“I will always take chances in life, but I will no longer do it in gaming hells. I took a chance when I offered you the coal mine.”

Brent nodded and even smiled a little. There was no doubt in Jess’s mind that Brent liked to gamble in his own way. How else to explain the man’s willingness to let his daughter marry someone who only hoped to be able to provide the coal mine he had promised?

“I will gamble with you on the mining operation, on the ship-owning adventure. And I will take the biggest gamble of all.”

“And that is?” Brent stood up.

“That Beatrice will accept my proposal and the two of us will take a chance on a future together. Forever.”

“I am almost convinced.”

Jess suspected that Beatrice’s father had a sentimental streak ten feet wide.

“If you can convince my girl then I will permit it. But I warn you that if you break her heart, I will break you down to a man with no money, no reputation, and nothing but air to live on.”

“If I hurt her, sir, it will be no less than I deserve.”


JESS WANTED A drink to bolster his courage. He washed his face with cold water instead. He wanted to wait until evening when he would have a better sense of how she felt about him today. Instead he went to look for her right away.

At least he knew how to draw her attention and how to convey his feelings for her in a language she would understand.

Nora Kendrick had agreed to help him, telling him where and when he might run into her and Beatrice. He found the two walking through the art gallery, discussing various paintings.

Beatrice did not seem surprised to see him, which made Jess ever so grateful that Nora was on his side. Nora excused herself, and Beatrice gave Finch back to his mistress reluctantly. “I think I shall have to find myself a puppy when I return home.”

“The right sort can be amazingly good company,” Nora agreed. “I can see if any of Finch’s littermates have pups, if you would like.”

“Thank you, the thought that I will hear from you once we leave Havenhall is delightful.”

“Of course! I am sure we will be seeing each other as well. In London during the Season.” She looked from Jess to Beatrice. “I have no doubt of it.”

Nora Kendrick set Finch on the floor and he scampered ahead of her, out of the gallery, leaving Beatrice and Jess alone in the cavernous space that echoed a hundred other conversations.

“Beatrice Brent.”

It was all he had to say for a blush to fly up from her neck to her cheeks.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Will you take my arm and examine that Rembrandt drawing we discussed our first evening here?”

“If you wish.”

“No, Beatrice,” he said firmly, “if you wish.”

She hesitated and he cursed himself. She could not leave before he even started.

“What I wish and what I can have are two very different things, my lord.”

“Your father said that I could seek you out for this conversation.”

“He did? And that gives you confidence enough to approach me?”

He laughed; he could not help it. “If I look confident it is only because I have perfected a gamer’s face these last years.”

She cast her eyes to heaven but took his arm.

“Whereas you have a face as easy to read as a headline in The Morning Post.” They began to walk. “Have you seen your sister and Des?”

Beatrice smiled. “Yes. They are so silly, acting as though they are the happy ending of a farce, but so in love you cannot laugh at them but must laugh with them.”

“If they are a farce, what are we?”

“A failed production. Not a tragedy, too predictable to be a drama. I suffer too much heartache for it to be a comedy.”

“But the end is not written yet.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Your version of the end sees you cozy in Birmingham with a dog for company, the loving aunt to as many children as Destry and Cecilia are blessed with.”

“Studying and writing on the great artists. Do not forget that. My life will have purpose.”

“My version of the end is somewhat different.” They had reached the simple drawing she had used to explain Rembrandt’s genius that first night, the small landscape with cottages and the distant windmill.

“This drawing has the most astounding simplicity that reveals its little world in detail.” He wanted to say that it was just like her, but was not sure she would take it as the compliment he meant it to be.

“Do you recall when you explained to me what made a Rembrandt drawing a masterpiece?” On the chance that she did not, he repeated back the lesson. “The path to the cottage is a brown wash and the grasses beside it are really just five or six lines. But they convey to the eye a meaning beyond that.”

“Yes.” Beatrice gave a jerky nod that made him think her hands were probably shaking. He realized of a sudden that she was as tense as a string pulled tight. It would be best to put them both out of their misery.

“Beatrice.” He took her hands and turned so he was facing her, the drawing at his back. “The phrase ‘I love you’ is nothing more than three words strung together in a sentence. I hope that when I say them to you, you can believe that they can mean as much as a hundred lines Rembrandt draws.”

She bit her lip and shook her head just a little. She did not believe him.

“When I say ‘I love you, Beatrice’ it means I want to be a part of your life forever, that I want to die with your touch as the last thing I feel on this earth.”

Her face drained of color and she did not smile.

“Between now and my last breath, I hope I can become the kind of person you could love, that I can someday earn the same respect from you that you have for your father, the same friendship you feel for Roger Tremaine, and the same love for me that I have for you.”

Silence stretched between them. Did it take her that long to understand his words or to prepare a gracious rejection?

“Do you mean what you are saying, Jess, or are you just being polite?”

He kissed each of her hands before he went on. He truly had work to do to earn her trust. “Here I am being as much of a poet as I can be, putting my heart before you with nothing to protect it, and you want to know if I am being polite? No, my darling girl, I am being honest. I love you. I began to love you the tiniest little bit when you raised your hand to me from your bedchamber window. I have loved you a little more each day, but thought the ache around my heart was from something I ate or the land that I wanted to have back so desperately.”

She relaxed the littlest bit. That, more than the smile, gave him hope. He went on, praying she was one step closer to accepting him.

“I thought a flirtation was just what you needed and all I could offer. It would prepare you for the less honorable gentlemen who would as soon seduce you as dance with you.

“It wasn’t until the other day when you so sweetly welcomed my kiss that I knew I did not want another man to dance with you, much less kiss you.”

“Are you proposing to me, Jess?”

“I was rather hoping you might propose to me, since then I would know you are in no way forced to accept me.”

“I would marry you in an instant if I thought there was no way you were being forced to marry me.”

“How can we convince each other that there is no puppet master pulling strings?”

“How did you convince Papa?”

“I made him a business offer he could not refuse.”

“Really? That was very clever of you, my lord.” Finally animation lit her voice.

“I think there is one more way we can convince each other.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her. Nothing existed beyond the two of them and the way they became one.

It was a sweet kiss. They both knew it was wiser to keep it at that.

“Why do I feel no doubt at all when we are together like this?” Beatrice mused.

“I wish I knew. All my much-discussed experience did not prepare me for this. When it comes to loving someone, you and I start as equals.”

They kissed again, not as a test but because they wanted to, and when that kiss ended, they both knew the answer.

“Because I love you. That’s what makes all the doubts disappear.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Because it is right.”

“My lord?” Beatrice began and cleared her throat before the next phrase. “Will you marry me?”

“If you will marry me,” Jess said, and they melted into each other’s arms to seal their commitment with a kiss that carried their hopes and their future in one sweet caress.