Page 54 of A Landscape of Love

Fidelia laughed, incredulous despite knowing he was in earnest. “You think I’d care about that? Of all people? Oh, Hart, if I am blessed enough to find my son and he grows up to be anything like as good and honourable as you, I shall consider myself the most fortunate of women.”

Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he crossed the room, holding out his hands to her. Fidelia took them, regarding her much smaller, paler hands against his, large and work roughened, tanned by a life spent out of doors. His knuckles were grazed and rather swollen from the fight with Richmond and Lord Malmsey. They were powerful hands, capable of knocking down an enemy or of tending to the tiniest of seedling with the utmost care. Strong as they were, Fidelia knew Hart would never raise them towards her in anger or hurt her. Of that, she was entirely certain.

His gaze settled on her, and she stared up into eyes of intense blue, her heart aching with longing. “I’m sorry for it, but you’ve got to marry me, love. You know that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she lowered her gaze. Damn him for being so wonderful, so desperately kind. Fidelia nodded, not looking at him. “I know it, though I am sorry for it too, Hart, for bringing you so much trouble and responsibility. I know it’s not what you wanted.”

He was silent for a moment before he said carefully, “Things change.”

Fidelia could not help but smile, looking up at him again, so serious and trying so hard to make her feel wanted when he’d told her in no uncertain terms this was the last thing he desired.

“They do,” she replied with a nod. She was not about to make this any harder for him when they were both trapped. “And I shall do everything in my power to be a good wife to you, Hart. I give you my word, and I shan’t nag or scold you if you spend all your days at work. I shan’t interfere, I promise, but I shall make you a comfortable home to return to, a place where you may be at ease. I promise you that. I will make myself useful to you, so you never have cause to regret being so kind to me.”

He gave her a look she could not read, but one that did not seem entirely pleased. His thick eyebrows drew together as he studied her face. “Is it enough, Fidelia? I’m no duke or marquess, but I’ve money enough to keep you in style. I’ll buy a house for us, anywhere you wish. Mayfair, if that’s what you want, but… but you must be prepared for the fact people might not—”

“Oh, Hart, I’ve absolutely no desire to live in Mayfair,” she said in frustration. “Have you learned nothing about me? I don’t give a farthing for society, though I admit being cut in the street would be mortifying. But I was miserable the entire time when I came out. If I’d not been, I probably wouldn’t have made such a desperate mistake, for I’m not usually such a fool, but I was out of place and out of my depth. I have no desire to make myself ridiculous by trying to fit into a world that was never mine to begin with.”

His expression relaxed somewhat, a look of relief in his eyes. “Well, that’s good, then,” he said cautiously. “There’s a fine house near to my business, in Chelsea. I’ve never considered it for myself but… but it’s a handsome place with a bit of land, enough to make a wonderful garden, and if you think you’d prefer something quieter…”

“I would,” she said firmly. “And if it is close to your work, and it pleases you, it sounds perfect.”

“You don’t want to see it first?”

Fidelia shook her head. “If you like it and it’s convenient for you, then it’s what I would like best.”

Hart gave her a doubtful glance but nodded. “As you wish, then.”

He was still holding her hands and Fidelia was terribly aware of it, his touch sending little sparks simmering beneath her skin. She wished he might feel something of the sort, that he might want her as much as she did him, but he only stared down at their clasped hands, a slight frown on his face.

“Are you certain you can find my son?”

The question seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he’d fallen into, and he nodded.

“Yes, I do. As soon as we are married, we’ll find him, love. I promise you that.”

Fidelia let out a breath. She needed nothing more from him. If Hart promised something, he expected to deliver it. He would not say such a thing when he knew how important it was to her. “Thank you so much, Hart. I… I don’t know what I would have done if you—”

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “Don’t say it,” he said, his voice firm. “I cannot bear to think of that. I am here, and soon your son will be too. We’ll… We’ll be a family.”

Fidelia’s throat grew tight. “But you don’t want a family, Hart, you never—”

Once again, he silenced her. “Hush, love. I said a lot of things, but the more time I spend with you, the more you make me question the things I have always thought were not for me. The idea of being a father to your son is rather terrifying, but I think I can handle it. I certainly don’t dislike the idea, I promise you that.”

“You are the dearest, most wonderful man. You do know that?”

He made an indistinct sound that suggested incredulity and Fidelia would have pressed the point, but she knew he was uneasy with such declarations, so she held her tongue.

“What now?” she asked, uncomfortable with the silence that was growing strained.

“We’ll be married this afternoon if possible. I’ve already arranged it, but I expected to have a few more days. It ought not be a problem to bring the date forward, though. I’m going to the church now to sort it out.”

“This afternoon,” Fidelia repeated faintly, an explosion of nerves making her stomach flutter as if it were filled with winged creatures looking for escape.

“I’m sorry to rush you,” he said diffidently. “But if your father or Malmsey comes looking for you—”

“No, no, I don’t mind. I d-don’t mind at all,” she added with a smile, blushing a little as she glanced up at him.

He looked down at her, holding her gaze, studying her face so intensely she felt he was trying to read her mind. She swallowed, refusing to act the coy maiden, and did not look away, though her cheeks blazed hotter with each second that passed. Slowly, let go of her hands, putting his on her waist, pulling her closer. Fidelia’s breath hitched.