Page 57 of A Landscape of Love

“Well, when you put it like that,” Fidelia replied with a soft laugh. “I’ll see you soon then, love.”

“You will, and congratulations, Lia. I’m so happy you’ve married Hartley.”

There was a bit more handshaking and kissing before Hart handed Fidelia up into the waiting carriage.

“Do you mind that there was no wedding breakfast or a celebration or the like? It’s just if you want to find Ambrose…” Hart began, feeling guilty as he considered how far removed this marriage must be from anything she’d dreamt of as a girl.

“Not in the least. Securing our marriage and finding my son are all I care about for the moment. There will be time enough for celebrating once we are settled,” she said calmly, reaching for his hand. “When can we go and find him?”

Hart’s fingers linked with hers. “First thing in the morning,” he said.

“Not now?” she asked, a little crestfallen. “I thought that was why we didn’t celebrate the wedding. So, we could go at once.”

“Not exactly,” Hart said, feeling an uncomfortable swell of guilt.

“Then why?”

“Because we need… I need… Fidelia, the marriage needs to be legal. I can’t risk your father or Malmsey demanding an annulment if they decide to come after us.”

Fidelia’s eyes opened wide. “Oh! Oh, what a fool I am. Hart, I didn’t think. Why, of course, we must… we must…”

Hart’s lips quirked into a smile. “Yes, we must, and I, for one, am looking forward to it. Do you mind waiting very much? I promise we’ll continue the search for Ambrose in the morning.”

Fidelia leaned into him. “I am anxious to find my boy, Hart, you know that, but of course I understand. You think of everything when I’m so oblivious at times. I know you’re looking after me and I’m just so… so very—”

“Don’t say you’re grateful,” Hart said fiercely, suddenly certain he could not bear to hear her say such a thing. He glanced at her, seeing the surprise on her face.

“I was going to say happy to have married you,” she replied, a considering look in her eyes.

“Oh,” Hart said, the tension in him ratcheting down a notch. “Oh, well, that’s… that’s good. I’m glad.”

“I’m glad too. So very glad. You’ve made me so happy and given me hope for the future, when I did not believe I could ever feel that way again.”

Hart snorted and shook his head and then started as Fidelia got up and sat on his lap, sliding her arms around his neck. “You said you liked it when I was brave.”

He smiled and put his arms around her. “I do.”

“And I am glad, Hart,” she insisted.

Hart let out a groan and rested his head on her breast. “How can you be? Good God, Fidelia, you realise until the house is ready, you’ll have to live with me in my rooms, over my place of work. You’ve married a tradesman. You’ll be ridiculed and shunned and—”

“Hartley De Beauvoir, is this the kind of love talk you intended to give your new bride? For I am not feeling the least bit romantic yet,” she scolded, though there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

“It’s not funny, love,” he said in an agony of self-recrimination.

“No, I should say it isn’t. I didn’t expect poetry or declarations of undying love, but I did think you’d kiss me. And, as for being ridiculed and shunned, by whom, exactly? No one I give a damn about, I assure you.”

Hart looked up, so intrigued by hearing his well-bred lady wife swear he could not help but smile. “Truly?” he asked her softly.

She let out a breath and put her hand to his cheek, stroking it with such tenderness he felt quite taken aback by the sweetness of the gesture. “Oh, Hart, my own, dear Hart, do you still not realise that I am quite hopelessly in love with you? I’d live with you in a hole in the ground if that were the only way of keeping you near me.”

Hart stared at her, hearing the words but not quite able to register them. Yet the way she was looking at him, the way she reached up and pushed the hair away from his forehead, all of it showed him the truth of her words. There was a possessive quality to the way she touched him, a besotted expression on her face that was quite incomprehensible but definitely aimed at him.

Hart cleared his throat, a little startled to hear his voice was not quite steady. “You… you are in love… with me,” he repeated, deciding he’d best have clarification of that fact before he went getting himself in a lather over nothing.

Fidelia laughed, shaking her head at him in despair. “Of course with you. Who else, you silly devil?”

Hart considered this before frowning at her. “I don’t think you ought to call your husband a silly devil on your wedding day. Very ill-mannered of you, love,” he said gravely, though his lips were twitching.