A Heart Revealed Part 21

She began to cry again as relief and hope she would never have imagined replaced the fear that so recently had strangled her. He straightened her head and stared into her face.

"My intent was to find you in the ballroom and lead you to the floor for a waltz," he said. "Fenton was to a.s.sure your sentiment for me and for Yorks.h.i.+re before I did so to make sure you would not be opposed to my attention, but I fear he pressed you too much."

Lord Fenton spoke from the side. "I was only attempting to-"

"Fenton," Mr. Richards said, turning his head. "You will allow me this after having so poorly played your part thus far. Could you remove some distance and afford us some privacy?"

Lord Fenton snorted as Mr. Richards turned back to face Amber, and his expression softened again. "I wanted you to know that I knew who you were, that I knew of your condition, and that my heart was not restricted in the least. I wanted your family to see it; I wanted them to know that you were not to be hidden away for the rest of your life. I wanted them to see that you lacked nothing of any consequence in regard to all you have become."

Amber shook her head. "I don't understand, Mr. Richards. How did you know?"

"Please, call me Thomas."

She repeated herself. "How did you know, T-Thomas." The intimacy of calling him by his Christian name further impressed upon her the remarkable nature of this moment.

"You do not remember me from London, do you?"

London? It felt years ago that she had been in London. He had been there?

He began with her dismissal at Almack's, which she did not remember, and she ducked her head in embarra.s.sment until he touched her chin and lifted her eyes to meet his. He told her of his avoidance of her despite his continued desire to be in her company, and, finally, he told her of offering her his coat at the ball at Carlton House.

"That was you?" Amber breathed. She had thought back on that kindness a hundred times, but the emotion of the experience had always obscured the memory of the man who had a.s.sisted her. Looking at him now, however, she could supplant his face in her memory and felt a rush of competing reactions wash through her veins. "After I had treated you so poorly?"

Mr. Richards-Thomas-explained how he had then recognized her voice from behind the heavy wooden door the day he had come to the cottage to look for the sales record. He admitted his hope that learning of her scandalous character would finally drive thoughts of her from his mind.

"Imagine my surprise when the woman I came to know instead was kind, and good, and humble, and more dear to me than she could ever have been before."

She tried to look away but once again he would not allow it and drew her face back to him. "When Mrs. Miller brought me that note . . . I am afraid I would not let her leave without her confirmation of everything, though she was not hard to convince."

"S-Suzanne?" she stammered, lifting a hand to wipe at her eyes. "She told you?" Should she feel betrayed or grateful?

"I already knew much of it, and she suspected other interests behind my visits. All that she confirmed to me was that your condition seems to be permanent and that your leaving Yorks.h.i.+re was not because of your indifference to me, but rather because you feared I would reject you as everyone else in your life had already done."

She looked down and he awaited her reply. "Not everyone," she finally said. "I gained a dear friend in Suzanne I shall forever cherish. But how could you ever . . ."

"Love you?" he said when she could not finish.

She blushed in embarra.s.sment and did not reply. Could not reply. Could not believe this was happening.

"I have a question I would like to ask you, Amber-may I call you Amber?"

She smiled at this sudden nod to propriety after all that had happened between them. "You may call me whatever you wish."

"I wish to call you Amber, then," he said with wink. "Actually, I have two questions to ask you if I may."

Amber simply nodded, then tensed in antic.i.p.ation.

"The time we spent together in the cottage showed you to be very different than you had been in London. Would you agree that your character was improved upon your time at the cottage?"

Amber bowed her head. "The girl I was . . . it pains me to think of her."

Thomas nodded as though to tell her the answer was acceptable to him. "If you could, would you take back your hair and never have come to Yorks.h.i.+re?"

Chapter 48.

Amber took several seconds before she answered; she wanted to be sure she didn't give an answer simply because she knew what answer he wanted. She would not be anything less than honest with him or herself from now onward. "I would not change it," she said, her voice soft, surprised, and yet sure as well. "I would not trade the things I have gained from having endured these difficulties. I only wish I could have learned them another way."

He leaned in and kissed her, allowing his lips to linger. She closed her eyes and placed a hand alongside his face, wis.h.i.+ng the kiss could quiet the rising awareness that was building like a sob in her chest. After several moments, Amber pulled away and looked into his eyes. "Thomas, you come from a respectable family. You have responsibilities to them, and I fear you have not thought this through."

"I have thought of nothing but being with you for weeks, Amber. You must know my intention is to ask for your hand in marriage, to share my life with you in every way."

She felt her cheeks heat up but she did not answer, which caused him to move closer, bringing him only inches away from her face. The air between them warmed with his proximity and the scent of him was familiar.

"Do you mean to refuse me?" he asked in a soft voice, as vulnerable as her heart felt. He could not realize the reality. Had his feelings-which were still so shocking to her-clouded his understanding of what it meant to join his life to her?

"Thomas, a wife such as me will limit you. People will not accept me as you have. Our society does not tolerate imperfection."

"Our society is riddled with imperfection," Thomas said with a chuckle that Amber could not share.

"My imperfection will change everything for you, especially as you are already establis.h.i.+ng a unique position. I could ruin every hope you have of retaining social standing."

"I embrace it," Thomas said, squeezing her hand.

"Your family will be affected as well. Your brother is t.i.tled; he has responsibilities to uphold."

Thomas shook his head. "I a.s.sure you that the people who matter to me will accept you and love you."

How could that be possible when her own family had not done so? "You cannot expect so much from people, Thomas."

He regarded her for a thoughtful moment. "You believe that the people I want in my life will not accept you because you are without hair?"

She nodded.

Thomas sat beside her on the bench and took both of her hands in his, invigorating her with his touch. "I have never taken the course chosen for me by societal expectations, and I can promise you, without a moment's hesitation, that I am full in love with you and those feelings have nothing to do with your hair or lack of it or how people might choose to react to it. I do not believe they will be as discounting as you fear, but if they are, it is of no consequence to me. You know that I am not relying on my station to provide for my future. Part of that independence is because I refuse to allow society to dictate my future and my happiness. I cannot give you the lifestyle your father did, but-"

"I care not about that," she said quickly.

"And if I believed you did I would not be here," Thomas continued. "But I can give you my love, my respect, and my promise that my feelings for you will not be compromised by the opinions of others. Not ever."

She stared at him, stunned by the sincerity of his words and unsure how to answer him.

Thomas looked past her to Fenton, who had not removed himself as Thomas had asked him to and now leaned against the beam of a trellis, watching the exchange. "Could you see that a waltz is played next?" Thomas asked his friend.

Heat rushed up Amber's face to know Lord Fenton had been a silent audience of their declarations. She felt her heart race as she glanced toward the veranda, partially blocked from view by the trellis. Thomas did not mean to dance with her in front of all these people, did he? She looked to her turban, crumpled amid the stones, the feathers scattered beside it.

Fenton nodded as though it were a small thing to change up an orchestra's repertoire and strode past them to the steps, leaving Thomas and Amber alone.

Thomas turned back to Amber, whose hands he still held. "I expect to live a full life with a good woman-with you-and I would hope that you would take confidence in your character as I do. If people of our cla.s.s reject you-us-it is to their own detriment. If they accept us, it is to their own credit. Give them the chance to accept us, rather than live your life with an expectation of rejection. Do you recall when Ca.s.sius says to Brutus 'Men at some time are masters of their fates: the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars-'"

"'But in ourselves,'" she finished for him as she applied his words to the last several months of her life. It had been her choice to hide and live in fear of people's reactions. It had been her choice to deceive him of her true ident.i.ty. She had been the one most unwilling to accept her imperfections. Could she not also be the first-or perhaps the second, or third when she thought of Suzanne who had said these exact things-to accept herself? Could she not be a.s.sured of her internal improvement despite a physical flaw she could not control? She found herself unable to discount Thomas's earnestness and certainty.

"We are only underlings to fate if we choose to let the wills of others shape our lives," Thomas said softly.

Amber looked into his eyes, stunned by the capacity of this man she had once rejected because he had not seemed to be enough. Now she stood on the threshold of proving to him that she would do all she could for his comfort, including taking the confidence of his love and support to do such a hard thing. "You truly believe I am as whole as anyone," she said.

Thomas's eyes sparkled in the moonlight. "I believe you are more than anyone I have ever known. I want you to believe it as well and feel, as I do, that becoming my wife will make me a greater man than anything else in this world ever could."

The orchestra completed the strains of the cotillion and the guests applauded the conclusion of the dance. The waltz would be next, a.s.suming Lord Fenton had been successful. Thomas stood before reaching for her hand. She resisted, looking at the raised veranda in fear again. She could not face a roomful of people and the judgments they would hold.

"I cannot replace my turban without help of my mother's lady's maid," she said, raising a hand to her head and looking at the discarded fabric that had served as her s.h.i.+eld.

"I mean to dance with you tonight, Amber," he said. "It is your choice whether we dance here in the garden, or in the ballroom. You have no need for a covering regardless of which venue you choose, but I leave the choice to you."

Amber let out a breath of relief. "I do not feel prepared to present myself to so many people and would not want to be the cause of disruption at Darra's ball."

He smiled, nodded, and reached his hand closer to her. "Then shall you dance with me here in the garden?"

She took his hand and rose to her feet before following him to the base of the steps where tightly fitted stones provided an improvised dance floor. They were close enough to hear the opening strains of the waltz but far enough to preserve their privacy.

He bowed. "Miss Sterlington, might I have this dance?"

"Most certainly, sir," she said as he straightened and took her hand. He pulled her close, deliciously so, and she adjusted her arm as he took her hand. They danced in perfect time with the music flowing through the ballroom doors, over the veranda, and down the stone stairs to meet them.

She had waltzed with any number of gentlemen-men she had deemed worthy because of their fortune and t.i.tle-and yet now she was in the arms of the man she'd once spurned who had been willing to know her as the new woman she had become. She could not understand how this had happened, how he could forgive her and still pursue her. That he saw so much good in her, however, made her want to see it too.

His hand on her back was warm, his hand holding hers was strong, and the depth of his eyes and what she saw reflected there was overwhelming enough that she did not hear footsteps on the stone stairs until she saw a flash of pink out of the corner of her eye. She stumbled to a halt.

Darra and Lord Sunther descended the steps while a dozen people gathered on the veranda behind them. Amber pulled away and stepped behind Thomas, covering her head with her hands as panic shot through her. Thomas turned to face her, still blocking her from the guests, and took hold of her shoulders. "It's all right," he said. "Take a moment."

"You told them?" she said, quick to suspect the worst.

"Of course not," Thomas said, his eyebrows rising. "I would not betray you, Amber. Never."

She glanced past him and watched as Lord Sunther and Darra began to waltz in the same s.p.a.ce Amber and Thomas had been using. Darra turned and locked eyes with Amber, smiling slightly at her sister and beckoning with her head for Amber to join them.

Lord Fenton suddenly appeared at the base of the steps with a wide-eyed girl Amber did not recognize. He helped her adjust to the right position and then counted under his breath before they too began waltzing.

Amber watched the two couples swirling around her and Thomas standing in the center of the stones. Thomas moved closer, and when she met his look of confidence, she remembered all he had explained to her these last few minutes. He believed her to be as whole as any other woman and had been willing to dance with her in the ballroom to prove it. With a staggered breath to release her fear, she lowered her arms from her head.

She looked toward the people on the terrace and caught the angry glare of her mother from amid the growing crowd. Though her mother's reaction filled her with regret and insecurity-as it had all of her life-she knew she did not deserve the censure. She had not done anything wrong-even to the point of dancing here in the garden rather than attempting to detract from her sister's ball. But Darra had joined her, had shown her support by extending her ball to include her imperfect sister.

"Should we continue?" Thomas whispered in her ear.

He would leave with her if she chose to go, and yet instead, she turned to him and put her hand on his shoulder once again. He did not hesitate to take position for the dance, and they moved together as though they had danced a hundred times before.

Her chest still felt tight but she had tried to hide and it had nearly cost her this future. She would be brave now. She would be honest and, as Thomas had said, she would let people make their own decision about her. If they chose to allow her outward appearance to make up the whole of her measure, she could not change it. But if they, like Suzanne, Thomas, and even Darra and Lord Sunther, could see past it, she would offer more by way of character and compa.s.sion than she ever had been capable of before.

Thomas adjusted his arm on her waist, pulling her close enough that she caught her breath and quite forgot her lingering insecurity. The waltz was a scandalous dance indeed.

"Is this truly happening?" she whispered. "Have you really come from Yorks.h.i.+re after knowing the whole of my deception and condition and asked me to become your wife?"

Thomas grinned. "Indeed it feels like a dream, does it not?"

"A dream I fear I shall awaken from at any moment."

"Perhaps on the morning you awaken beside me you will finally know it is not a dream." He leaned in closer. "It is my hope that such a morning is not far distant."

She knew she should blush at his words, but she did not. Instead she felt a thrill of antic.i.p.ation and said a silent prayer of thanks for every bit of what had happened that had brought her here. This was what it felt like to be loved. This is what she had once felt a paltry reason for marriage.

"Is there something more I can do to convince you that this is not a dream, that the moments we find ourselves within are very much real?" Thomas glanced at her lips, and she gasped sharply at the implication. If Thomas were to kiss her here, in front of all these people, it would be nothing short of a proposal, a public display of his intentions that would leave no room for interpretation or retreat. He looked back into her eyes, and she knew that his thoughts were the same as her own.

There were half a dozen couples dancing with them now, creating a rather haphazard and crowded dance floor. The remaining guests were gathered on the stairs and veranda, the sound of their whispers all but covering the strains of music from above. Did any of their judgments matter when a man such as Thomas Richards had claimed her heart and promised it safekeeping?

She slowed her steps and he followed suit. She lifted her face toward his and he smiled at her silent invitation. Without a word, Thomas cupped her face and lowered his mouth to meet hers in a kiss of promise, a kiss of hope, a kiss to invite a thousand more.

Epilogue.

August Thomas jumped from the carriage pulled by two b.u.t.ter-colored horses-a wedding gift from Lord and Lady Fielding-before reaching up to help Amber from the seat. She gathered her skirts in preparation to step down, but Thomas's hands grasped her waist and lifted her to the ground instead.

He rarely let an opportunity to touch her pa.s.s him by, and she had become quite accustomed to the brush of his hand across her shoulders when he pa.s.sed behind her or his hand resting on hers when they sat beside one another in the library, to say nothing of his arms around her at night and the kisses he planted on her smooth head whenever she was without a covering.

After meeting with the local physician-whom Suzanne had told her to consult months ago-Amber had accepted that she would likely never have a full return of her hair, though she currently had her left eyebrow and some regrowth near the back of her head. Dr. Marsh, unlike the doctor in London, had seen similar conditions, which he said were related to the body's ability to grow hair. She was at peace with it, though at night she sometimes dreamed of what she'd once taken for granted.

Thomas brushed her cheek and she smiled. She had no complaint for the reminders of his affection, but since typical British society was not so demonstrative, his affection in public concerned her. In this way, however, as in many others, Thomas had little concern for convention. Even after placing her firmly on the street he did not release her and instead tipped his head so it fit beneath the brim of her bonnet and kissed her soundly.

"You are a scoundrel, Mr. Richards," she said when he pulled away.

"Only with you, Mrs. Richards."

She laughed as Thomas paid a boy to care for the carriage and horses for the duration of their appointment with Mr. Peters.

Once in the solicitor's office, they were shown to a room where they sat side by side at the large table. When Mr. Peters entered a minute later, Amber ignored the slightly narrowed look he gave her; women did not usually accompany their husbands on errands of business. Thomas, however, had felt that since it was her matter of business as well it was only fair that she attend.

She had been right that there were those of their society who did not welcome them, but Thomas had also been correct in the fact that his family, and a handful of others, had embraced them far more than Amber had expected. Lady Fielding had even thrown a ball at Peakview Manor in their honor, which had been well attended and filled with congratulations and well wishes.

Mr. Peters sat opposite them and began explaining the different papers he had brought with him. He gave them to Thomas to sign, who gave them to Amber to look over though only Thomas's signature was required for the legalities. It took nearly half an hour before Thomas and Amber had signed the final page. Mr. Peters gathered the papers and tapped them together on the tabletop.