Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(87)

Lillian’s slender fingers played absently in his hair as she commented, “It’s been a long time since Mr. Swift went to find Daisy. And it’s too quiet. Aren’t you going to go up there and check on them?”

“Not for all the hemp in China,” Marcus said, repeating one of Daisy’s new favorite phrases. “God knows what I might be interrupting.”

“Good God.” Lillian sounded appalled. “You don’t think they’re…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Marcus paused deliberately before adding, “Remember how we used to be.”

As he had intended, the remark diverted her instantly.

“We’re still that way,” Lillian protested.

“We haven’t made love since before the baby was born.” Marcus sat up, filling his gaze with the sight of his dark-haired young wife in the firelight. She was, and would always be, the most tempting woman he had ever known. Unspent passion roughened his voice as he asked, “How much longer must I wait?”

Propping her elbow on the back of the sofa, Lillian leaned her head on her hand and smiled apologetically. “The doctor said at least another fortnight. I’m sorry.” She laughed as she saw his expression. “Very sorry. Let’s go upstairs.”

“If we’re not going to bed together, I fail to see the point,” Marcus grumbled.

“I’ll help you with your bath. I’ll even scrub your back.”

He was sufficiently intrigued by the offer to ask, “Only my back?”

“I’m open to negotiation,” Lillian said provocatively. “As always.”

Marcus reached out to gather her against his chest and sighed. “At this point I’ll take whatever I can get.”

“You poor man.” Still smiling, Lillian turned her face to kiss him. “Just remember…some things are worth waiting for.”

Epilogue

As it turned out, Matthew and Daisy were not wed until late autumn. Hampshire was dressed in scarlet and brilliant orange, the hounds were out four mornings a week, and the last baskets of fruit had been harvested from heavy-laden trees. Now that the hay had been cut, the raucous corn-crakes had left the fields, their clamor replaced by the liquid notes of song-thrushes and the chatter of yellow buntings.

For the entire summer and a good part of autumn, Daisy had endured many separations from Matthew, including the frequent trips to London to manage his legal affairs. With Westcliff’s help the extradition requests from the American government were firmly blocked, allowing Matthew to remain in England. After settling on a pair of skillful barristers and acquainting them with the particulars of his case, Matthew had dispatched them to Boston to file with the appeals court.

In the meantime Matthew traveled and worked ceaselessly, overseeing the construction of the Bristol manufactory, hiring employees and setting up distribution channels throughout the country. It seemed to Daisy that Matthew had changed somewhat since the secrets of his past had been revealed…he was freer somehow, even more self-assured and charismatic.

Witnessing Matthew’s limitless energy and his growing list of accomplishments, Simon Hunt had informed him decisively that any time he tired of working for Bowman’s, he was welcome to come to Consolidated Locomotive. That had prompted Thomas Bowman to offer Matthew a higher percentage of the soap company’s future profits.

“I’ll be a millionaire by the time I’m thirty,” Matthew had told Daisy dryly, “if I can just manage to stay out of jail.”

It had surprised and touched Daisy that everyone in her family, even her mother, had rallied to Matthew’s defense. Whether this was for Daisy’s sake or her father’s was unclear. Thomas Bowman, who had always been so severe on people, had immediately forgiven Matthew for deceiving him. In fact, Bowman seemed to regard him more than ever before as a de facto son.

“One suspects,” Lillian had told Daisy, “that if Matthew Swift were to commit cold-blooded murder, Father would say on the spot, ‘Well, the boy must have had an excellent reason.’”

Discovering that keeping busy helped the time to pass more quickly, Daisy occupied herself with finding a home in Bristol. She decided on a large gabled seaside house that had once belonged to a shipyard owner and his family. Accompanied by her mother and sister, who both liked shopping far more than she did, Daisy purchased large, comfortable pieces of furniture and richly colored window hangings and fabrics. And of course she made certain there were tables and shelves for books in as many rooms as possible.

It helped that Matthew sped to Daisy whenever he could steal away for a few days. There were no constraints between them now, no secrets or fears. As they shared long conversations and walked through the sleepy summer landscape, they found endless delight in each other’s company. And on the nights when Matthew came to Daisy in the darkness and made love to her, he filled her senses with infinite pleasure and her heart with joy.

“I’ve tried so hard to stay away from you,” he whispered one night, cuddling her while the moonlight made stripes across the shadowed hills of the bedclothes.

“Why?” Daisy whispered back, crawling over him until she was draped over the muscled surface of his chest.

He played with the dark cascade of her hair. “Because I shouldn’t come to you like this until we’re married. There’s a risk—”