Redeeming the Reclusive Earl - Virginia Heath Page 0,99

all three of them were keen to maximise their remaining time. It was past six and Lord Percival was still digging, deep in a baffling conversation about something to do with blasted Tacitus with the woman of his dreams and clearly in no immediate hurry to stop.

Not that he was jealous.

After last night, he was in no doubt she was as besotted with him as he was with her, which was a blasted miracle he still couldn’t quite get over, but one he was determined to enjoy for as long as he had breath in his body. But he wanted this interminable visit done so they could just get on with for ever. Now that he had a future, he wanted to start it. They had plans to formulate. Vows to take. Dark-haired, ridiculously clever babies to make. Things he couldn’t begin to do with a bunch of irritating academics in his house. He’d barely managed to steal a few stolen kisses from Effie since breakfast. All of them much too short.

At least Lord Denby and Lord Whittlesey had finally called it a day. Both were headed back towards the house with buried treasure in their pockets which Max had graciously donated after Effie had assured him she already had enough axe and spear heads from the site and wouldn’t miss them.

‘I hate to chivvy the pair of you on—but Eleanor will have my guts for garters if I don’t get you back in time to change for dinner.’

‘It’s all right for you, old chap.’ Sir Percival stared wistfully at the ruins before sighing. ‘You take all this for granted. You get to come back here tomorrow with your charming fiancée and dig to your heart’s content whereas I am still desperately waiting for a second invitation to come back here to Rivenhall.’

‘You are welcome any time, Percy.’ Effie clearly had a soft spot for the man. ‘And I can keep you regularly apprised of the dig via letter. Once Max goes back to sea, I shall be glad of the distraction and the company.’

It was a throwaway comment.

Not intended as a dig or barb, but it wounded him all the same, because after they had made love they had talked for hours and she had let him wax lyrical about all his forgotten dreams of building up his own fleet of ships and not once did she try to talk him out of it or ask what his prolonged and continued absences would mean for them.

She had just accepted them.

Selflessly.

Because she loved him and knew he loved the sea.

But as much as he loved it, it had suddenly lost a great deal of its appeal. The last thing he wanted to do was to have to wave her goodbye and not see her for potentially months on end. Effie hated to be lonely. He knew that now because she had entrusted him with the truth only moments before she entrusted him with her body. Yet here he was, offering her an equally as lonely future while he went off to chase his own dreams and left her to her own devices.

He watched Percy help her out of the trench and purposefully lagged behind them on the way back to the house, much too busy pondering this new revelation in just a few scant days of nothing but revelations to pay much attention to their conversation. The pair of them were halfway up the stairs before he had the wherewithal to call her back, claiming some domestic pretence so that the devoted Percy wouldn’t follow her, and because he did not want to waste a second, tugged her into the closest room.

‘I’ve decided I’m staying here.’

She frowned. ‘All right... But Eleanor is going to expect you to at least change before dinner.’

‘Not here in the drawing room. I meant I am staying here. At Rivenhall. Indefinitely. I do not need to go back to sea.’

‘But you love the sea.’

‘I love you more and I never want to have to wave goodbye to you from the dock.’ Just picturing it made his heart ache.

‘I am not Miranda, Max... My affection for you will not