A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)(105)

She nodded.

He spoke softly, only to her. “Isabel, you were right about me. I’m capable of far more than this frivolous life I’ve been leading, and I knew it long before we met. For years now, I’ve wished for some greater purpose, and you were right to push me to find one. But you don’t get to choose it for me.”

“No, of course not.” She stroked his cheek. “I was wrong to even try. That’s why I want you to withdraw from the race.”

He shook his head. “No. I’m going to be elected to Parliament, where I will represent this borough with honor. And I will continue to manage my estate. I think I’ll prove reasonably competent at both. But my highest goal, my true reason for living, is right here in my arms. It’s you, darling. It’s us. You are everything I’ve been yearning for, for so long—a perfect fit for all my natural talents.” He smiled, and brushed a tear from her cheek. “Loving you gives meaning to my life.”

“Toby.” She bent her head, resting her brow against his chest.

He whispered in her ear, “And by God, I will excel at it. I mean to love you so well, so fiercely. To make certain you never doubt what a remarkable, beautiful woman you are. To make certain the world knows it, too. To create a stable, loving home for you and our family. To give you a place where you will always feel safe.”

She slipped her hands inside his coat, needing to hold him tight.

“Those may not be the sort of accomplishments that end up in the papers,” he continued, “or earn a man society’s applause. But they’re important, just the same. And as I look around at the world, I realize … it’s astonishing, how few men are truly good at them.”

She lifted her face to his. “You will be magnificent at them. A true champion. I have complete

faith in you.”

He was right, of course. Toby was a rare man indeed.

In all her life, Bel had never met a person with such infectious warmth and good humor, or his instinctive talent for making those around him feel confident and secure. That combination had attracted her to him from the very beginning. Well, that and the devastating grin spreading across his face.

Oh, she was the luckiest woman alive.

He said, “Then I advise you to get accustomed to this idea, that you are worth any effort. Learn to live with the burden of being adored. Take all that righteous anger, darling, and go forth to battle the dragons of injustice … but you must always come home to me.” He kissed her nose.

“Because I intend to be, above everything, a devoted husband.” A sly gleam stole into his eye as he added, “And a doting father.”

She gasped. “How did you know? Even I’m not certain yet.”

“I’m certain. And I knew it the moment I saw you. I’ve three older sisters, with ten nieces and nephews between them. I can just tell.”

She buried her face in his coat. “I’m frightened. I’m not sure I know how to be a good mother.”

“You will be the most loving, patient mother who ever lived.” He held her tight. “Except on the rare days you aren’t. On those days, I’ll take the children to the park.”

She laughed into his chest. “How do you do it?” She raised her face to his. “How do you always know exactly what it is I most need to hear?”

“That’s easy.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “Here I divulge a great secret, darling. I just say what ever it is I’d most like to hear back.” His breath warmed her cheek as he murmured hopefully, “I love you.”

“Oh, Toby.” She melted inside. If there were a better man on this earth—she would still want this one. Forever. “I love you, too.”

EPILOGUE

FIVE YEARS LATER

“Well? Did you manage to kill anything today?”

Toby stretched out on the grassy riverbank, reclining on one elbow. “Bagged one partridge. Henry has himself a fine brace of pheasants.”

“That’s all? I knew I should have gone with you.” Lucy looked up at him, the faint gleam of bloodlust in her eye. It was an expression completely at odds with her otherwise maternal appearance. She sat on a quilted picnic blanket, resting her weight on one outstretched hand while the fingers of the other combed her infant’s dark curls.

Beside her, Sophia shaded a charcoal sketch of the slumbering baby boy. “Eventually,” she said without looking up, “we’ll have to stop calling this our annual hunting party. You men so rarely bring anything back.”

“True enough,” Toby said, watching the play of sunshine and brisk autumn breeze on the stream’s dappled surface. “But then, our annual ‘tromping-through-the-woods-to-prove-ourmanliness party’ lacks that certain ring.”

“And where are these other exemplars of manliness?” Lucy asked, drawing a thin blanket over her child.

“Felix went up to the manor, I think. Henry took Jem and Gray by the kennels to see his new foxhounds. They’ll be around shortly.”

“I’m not even sure why Gray goes along with you,” Sophia said. “He doesn’t like violence.”

“Neither does Jeremy,” Lucy replied. “He never could bring himself to shoot a single bird. And then there’s Felix, whose aim has always been hopeless. Soon Tommy will start begging to go along, and that may put a stop to the hunting excursions completely.” She cast a glance toward her older son, who was entertaining a trio of little girls downstream: two fair, one dark. Lucy continued, “Jeremy’s determined that no child of his will ever touch a gun.”