Hardly a Husband (Free Fellows League 3)

"Don't be too angry with him. In his own way, he was looking out for you."

"He was looking out for my soul," Lady Dunbridge snapped. "And there was no need for that once Calvin died. There was no danger of adultery. Calvin was dead and so was your wife. We were free."

"Yes, we were," Lord Mayhew agreed. "But losing you was what Reverend Eckersley feared most. And he was right to fear it because I intended to come for you after your husband died. Unfortunately, Serena's death had horrible unexpected and inexplicable repercussions. Within months of Serena's passing, my wife's sister and her husband were dead. I was left as guardian of their son, and Jarrod needed me. My life and responsibilities changed overnight. And although I desperately wanted to marry you, I knew in my heart that Jarrod wasn't able to absorb another upheaval in his life. He needed stability. He needed security. He needed my love. And he needed to know that I was constant. I owed him that. And I was determined to be available whenever he needed me. I was determined to give him my undivided attention."

"Perhaps it's just as well," Lady Dunbridge said at last. "Because Simon and Sarah needed me just as much as Lord Shepherdston needed you."

Lord Mayhew reached over and lifted her chin with the tip of his index finger. "Am I mistaken, Henrietta, or are you under the impression that I've given up?"

Lady Dunbridge held her breath. "Have you?"

"Not at all," he vowed. "The good reverend was right. It was simply a matter of time before we sinned in the flesh. I wanted you then, Henrietta, and I want you now. Body and soul."

"Robert, it's been twenty years," she murmured, suddenly shy and uncertain.

"Impossible," he said softly, "because you don't look a day older than twenty."

She smiled. "You said the same thing twenty years ago."

"It was true then," Lord Mayhew said. "And it's true now." He began to massage her shoulders in a slow, relaxing motion. "You're every bit as beautiful today as you were twenty years ago." He took a step forward, then leaned close enough to whisper, "So, my dear Henrietta, tell me how I can be of service."

"I want you to help me arrange a marriage."

Lord Mayhew lifted an eyebrow. Her answer wasn't quite what he'd expected, but he was willing. "Dare I hope that it might be ours?"

"After all these years?"

Lord Mayhew saw the hope in her eyes, remembered the girl she had been, and smiled. "I loved you twenty years ago. I wanted to marry you twenty years ago, but we were both married to other people. Now we're free and I find myself still hopelessly in love with you." He looked at her. "And if we wait much longer, we'll be too old to enjoy the honeymoon, so Henrietta, I'm asking if you will do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Lady Dunbridge's eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Oh, Robert…"

He looked down at her. "Shall I take that to mean yes?"

"Yes!"

Lord Mayhew thought his heart might burst from the joy. He hadn't realized how much he'd loved Henrietta Dunbridge, how much he'd missed her, and how much he'd longed to make her his until he'd walked into the Garrisons' ballroom and seen her again. And she hadn't changed. She was still the beautiful young woman with reddish blonde hair and light brown eyes with whom he'd fallen in love all those years ago. "Shall we make it a small and intimate wedding? Or would you like a huge society affair?"

"I should like to make it a small, intimate, double wedding," she clarified. "And soon."

Lord Mayhew frowned. "With whom would you like to share our nuptials?"

"Sarah." She smiled up at him. "I've waited twenty years to taste your lips and to feel your arms about me and I don't want to wait a moment longer than necessary, but I have to see Sarah settled first."

"I can secure a special license in the morning," he replied. "And we can make arrangements with your niece and her intended." He leaned down to whisper, "Tell me, Henrietta, where would you like to honeymoon?"

Henrietta blushed. "In whatever bed you call home."

"That's my darling girl." Lord Mayhew was fairly crowing with pride.

"I'm three and forty," she reminded him. "I haven't shared a bed with a man in two and twenty years or felt passion for much longer than that." She blushed again.

"Oh, my precious girl." Lord Mayhew reached out and smoothed a stray lock of hair from her face. The fact that they were at a public ball was the only thing that kept him from kissing her senseless. "I knew Dunbridge kept a mistress in a house on Portman Square, but I didn't realize that he had neglected his wife so entirely."

"I was barren," she answered succinctly. "Once he discovered that, there was no need for him to pay attention to me."

Lord Mayhew frowned. "Are you certain you were barren? Because I had heard it said that Dunbridge had been rendered barren by some childhood illness or injury and that his first wife's family threatened to sue when they learned of it. He'd married her in order to secure his fortune and her family felt that he had married her falsely by promising to make her not only his viscountess, but the mother of his heir."

"I had no idea," Lady Dunbridge breathed.