refuse a dance with me,” I reminded her and a smile tugged at the corner of her full pink lips.
“I knew after that first encounter that something about you was unique. I did not realize you would change everything for me. My beliefs, my desires, and my dreams. For now, I have none of those without you. You are everything I never knew I needed in this life but fear I cannot live without. I love you.”
Miriam’s hand gently squeezed mine. “And I love you,” she replied.
I wanted to crush her body against mine and kiss those sweet lips, once again, but we were not alone. There still stood two obstacles in our way. Her uncle and my brother.
“It appears we have an issue on our hands. You are engaged to the wrong brother,” Wellington stated.
“She wouldn’t be if you hadn’t said no when he asked for her hand,” Lady Wellington told her husband.
“I was protecting her. We knew nothing of the child and he did not come into my office telling me of his love for Miriam. If he had that might have swayed my decision,” he replied.
“Well, it is a mess that you have made and perhaps you need to clean it up, dear. It is clear she cannot marry Mr. Compton. He is charming and I do enjoy his visits, but she does not love him,” Lady Wellington said.
Miriam smiled up at me as her aunt and uncle continued to go back and forth.
I intended to go speak to Nicholas myself, but I would not interrupt them just now. They seemed too engrossed in their conversation. Miriam was amused and I enjoyed seeing her happy. I wanted to spend the rest of my life making her happy. If it was in my power, I would make it a point to do just that.
“If I may be so bold to ask, if Emma is not your daughter but she is a Compton, then whose child is she?” Lady Wellington asked me. I had been expecting this question earlier, but when it had not come, I had not offered.
“Aunt Harriet, perhaps it’s not a good time. Lord Ashington may not be ready to share that,” Miriam started to explain, giving me the choice to keep Emma’s secret, even from her.
“I do not know if Emma’s father knows of her existence. I was told by the woman who left her at my doorstep that he did know and did not care. Emma’s mother was my mistress for about one year then we parted ways after I found that she was also entertaining another man in the home I provided for her. It was four years after that parting that Emma was brought to my door at two years of age. The only proof I had other than the old woman’s claim was the color of her eyes. For Emma has the same color eyes as her father. They are distinct and a trait he himself inherited from his mother. The moment I saw her eyes, I knew who her father was, just as I knew he would not take responsibility for her.”
“But who is her father?” Lady Wellington asked again.
“Nicholas,” Miriam replied, so softly it was almost a whisper.
Epilogue
6 Years Later
Lady Ashington sat on the plush summer lawn of Chatwick Hall and inhaled deeply, enjoying the break from London’s busy season. It had been several years since she had spent her summer in London, and if it weren’t for her sister, she would not be doing so this year. However, Whitney’s pure joy over the experience did make it all appear a touch magical.
“I see Emma is still wearing britches,” Nicholas Compton said as he took a seat on the grass beside Lady Ashington.
“That is a battle I am saving for a later date,” she replied, grinning over at her brother-in-law.
“Well thought out,” he agreed.
“Mom-ma! Philip won’t give me any berries,” Lady Abigail, now three years old, called out with tears in her eyes.
“Oh dear,” Lady Ashington muttered.
“Shall I go give young Philip a lecture on not making ladies cry?” Nicholas asked.
Shaking her head, Lady Ashington stood up. “No, that won’t be necessary. When Abigail cries, it is a warning. One that Philip needs to take more seriously.”
“Warning?” Nicholas asked.
“Yes, a warning. Abigail may be tiny in stature but her temper, I fear, is rather large. Philip needs to make haste before she unleashes on him,” Lady Ashington explained then headed off toward her children.
“Is there to be a fight?”