A Mistress for Major Bartlett (Brides of Waterloo)

But now he was gone. He couldn’t do all the living for both of them. It was—it was her turn.

If this was Gideon, in love for the first time in his life, would he let fear of potential disaster stop him? No. Why, he hadn’t even hesitated to steal the sword, go into battle and lead Justin’s men, to prove what he was worth.

He’d always believed life was for living.

And she was in love. Deeply in love with Tom. And just because they both had reservations about marriage, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be together, in a way that suited them both, did it?

She hesitated on the church steps, noting that only a few people had started arriving. There was just time to go to the vault and visit her brother before the service commenced.

‘Gideon,’ she whispered, depressed by the gloomy silence that pervaded the vault. ‘Gideon.’ She reached out and lay one black-gloved hand on his coffin.

She closed her eyes and pictured him stealing the Latymor Luck. Strapping it on to his sword-belt. Taking control of Justin’s men, even if it was only for half an hour. Fighting side by side with the big brother he’d alternately adored, and emulated, and chafed against, all his life. Then finally confronting Justin with his choices. Eldest sons should stay at home, run the estate and set up their nursery, he’d said, oh, often and often! It’s for the younger sons to go out and become heroes. He has to have it all, damn him! Well, I’ll show him, Sarah. You see if I don’t.

Well, he’d shown Justin, right enough. And died in the process.

‘Oh, Gideon,’ she sobbed. ‘Why did you have to prove yourself to him? Why couldn’t just being you be enough?’

She was glad, of course, that he hadn’t died alone, or in some terribly painful, lingering way, or as the result of some stupid blunder.

But it didn’t change the fact that he was still dead.

Sealed inside this coffin. Silenced for ever.

Worse. He’d stolen the Latymor Luck without telling her what he meant to do. And she hadn’t known. Hadn’t guessed. That stark truth snapped the last frayed thread linking them together.

At the exact moment that the bells began tolling to warn churchgoers that the service was about to start.

She stumbled to her feet, dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose one more time.

And went to sit through a service which was going to be of no solace to her at all.

She wanted Tom. She wanted to run to him and pour her woes into his ears, and have him soothe her with his loving words. Feel the strength of his arms holding her close to his heart.

Because when he held her, she wouldn’t feel as if she was all alone in the world any longer.

She raised her head, staring sightlessly straight ahead as the words of the service washed right over her. Talking to Justin had helped her to get some things clear in her mind. She loved Tom. She did. Not just because he was handsome and charming, either. He’d become her friend. Her confidant. The one person she could trust with the secrets of her heart. The man she wanted to live with, grow old with, even have children with.

Even when he’d first warned her he might have got her with child, she hadn’t minded. She’d pictured herself bringing up a sturdy little boy with green eyes like Tom’s and a thatch of blond hair like hers. And loving him so much it wouldn’t matter if his father wasn’t around. She would have been all the child needed.

Except—her breath hitched in her throat at a sudden image of Gideon, hanging out of a tree branch, holding out his hand to help her climb up.

If she denied her child a legal father, then it couldn’t have any brothers or sisters.

It would grow up alone.

It was all very well thinking she could endure scandal, if it meant she could stay with Tom. But was it fair to condemn her child to a lifetime of loneliness, as well?

She’d have to talk to Tom about marriage, again. In the cool light of day, not in the heat of passion, while he was weltering in guilt and she was reacting from a bone-deep habit of avoiding it at all costs.

She was still a little afraid that he held the same view as Justin—that marriage was the price a man had to pay for taking his pleasures unwisely. But even if that was so, even if he didn’t love her the way she loved him now, she was going to have to tell him how she felt. She was going to have to face him, and tell him exactly what she wanted, and why.

And then deal with the consequences like a...like a...

She sat up straighter, and squared her shoulders.

Like a Latymor.

Chapter Sixteen