Wonderingly, she traced his mouth, committing his lips to memory. For memories were all she would have, though the knowledge that she was loved filled her with bittersweet joy.
Loved where she’d never thought possible.
It was enough. Enough to sustain her through what she must endure in the next...five years? Twenty?
“You’ll always know where I am.” He winced as if her touch were too much for him to bear, even as he moved in to her. “And if you ever need me, Sybil, you have only to ask. If I am in Timbuktu or the Spice Islands, I will come.”
The stable lads arrived and Humphry broke off his discussion as he directed them to lead Dr. Marsh to the lake. Stephen’s declarations became more urgent.
“Sybil, I mean what I say. When I go to London, I want you to know I am only three hours’ hard ride away and that I’d do anything, drop anything, say anything...if you ever need my help. You must believe that.”
She nodded. She’d never believed anything more. “And Sybil—”
“Hush, Stephen, Humphry’s coming.”
He gripped her shoulders tightly and brought his face close. “Always know I love you, Sybil. For always.”
“Sybil? Stephen?”
Humphry’s voice intruded, loud and demanding. He was nearly upon them. Stephen drew her farther into the shadows, his arms sliding down her back and behind her head to draw her deeply into his kiss.
His final kiss.
Fire tore through her as she cleaved to him, glorying in the sensations only Stephen had ever evoked within her once-parched heart and soul.
With a shuddering sigh he broke away, then, clenching his fist, he managed to sound almost casual as he replied, “Yes, my lord,” though he still held Sybil tightly. He lowered his head, his whisper the final, flimsy thread she had to cling to. “I don’t believe in hopeless farewells.” Making a fist, he touched it to his heart. “This is where you will live, Sybil.” He made a move to break the contact in order to respond to His Lordship then hesitated, turning to once more grip Sybil’s shoulders. “Did you mean what you said, my love?” His eyes seemed to shred her soul. “About preferring poverty with me?”
She nodded. “I’ve never been more sincere—” She cut the words short, fear at his youthful impetuosity flooding her with panic. “No, Stephen, you mustn’t.”
He retained his grip, pulling her with him from behind the curtain so that she blinked, dazed in the light. Exposed...Stephen still gripping her hand.
Humphry cocked his head. His expression was quizzical. Probably the events of the night had addled his sense of reality. Then, perhaps perceiving the flushed countenance of his reinstated heir and the agitation of his wife, he inquired slowly, his tone now laced with suspicion, “Mustn’t what...my dear?”
Sybil shook her head. To utter a single word might condemn Stephen when he still had an opportunity to wriggle out of what he’d incautiously begun.
But Stephen paid no heed to the urgent tug of her hand. Retaining it in a vise-like grip, he straightened his shoulders and there was no trace of uncertainty in his tone when he replied, “Mustn’t tell you, my lord, that I am in love with Lady Partington and that I seek her happiness above all else—yet that can only happen with your approbation.”
The widening of his eyes and apparent loss of balance was the only indication Lord Partington had even heard. He opened his mouth to speak, transferring his incredulous expression from Stephen’s brave, determined face to Sybil’s no-doubt cowering expression before demanding, “Are you bamboozling me?”
Stephen cocked his head, bringing Sybil’s hand briefly to his lips before saying, “It is common knowledge, my lord, that you’ve kept a mistress for the duration of your marriage.” He cleared his throat. “I realize that I risk both Lady Partington’s happiness and that of my own by approaching the matter with such boldness, and yet I had hoped to appeal to your generous...and liberal nature by making a clean breast of things. Skullduggery is not my favored course, and so I would ask you now to sanction a union between your wife and myself along the lines of the one you’ve enjoyed with Mrs. Hazlett.”
Had Stephen really said that? Spoken so transparently of matters which were never discussed between even Sybil and Humphry?
Sybil glanced fearfully at her husband, whose growing apoplexy in the lengthening silence didn’t augur well. She put her hand on his sleeve and said apologetically, “I know it’s a shock, Humphry, and I did try to warn you when I mentioned I’d taken you at your word after you indicated a preference for handing the estate over to the head stable lad rather than Edgar—”
“I never did!”
“You did, Humphry. And you were completely against the idea of siring your own heir, and since you’d taken such a shine to Stephen, I persuaded him to help me do what I thought would ultimately please you, and that would, I hoped, ensure Hetty’s happiness—ensure Edgar was not going to be heir and therefore marry Araminta.” She swallowed. She stared at her feet before casting an imploring look at his face. “Things got rather out of hand after that.”
Humphry shook his head, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t push out the right words. Finally he said, “Are you suggesting an heir might already be in the offing?”
Sybil glanced at Stephen as she unconsciously contoured her belly, before she raised her eyes to answer her husband. “It’s more than possible, and if so, I am fully sensible of the bitter irony in having thus blighted Stephen’s prospects.”
Stephen cleared his throat. “I bear Lady Partington no ill will, should that indeed come to pass. My most p
ressing concern, however, is if you will sanction a discreet union between your wife and myself.” His impatience was clearly growing. “Araminta and Hetty will soon remove to London for the season and presumably their mother will accompany them. I’d hoped to trade on your goodwill and secure a position in the Foreign Office, though tonight’s handsome winnings—thanks to your Lordship’s generous machinations—will be sufficient to see me through the next few months, should you reconsider your generous offer in backing me.”
Humphry seemed suddenly to snap into renewed life. “Are you really asking for my blessing? Asking me to sanction this scandalous...outrageous situation?” His eyes bulged and he had to grip the curtain to steady himself. “You’ve made a cuckold of me...yet you have the cheek to believe I may still offer you my patronage?”