A Baron for Becky

Chapter twenty-two

Becky marked time by Before the Day Aldridge Came, and After. Before, she had been shut off from the world by thick, wavy glass. She could barely see or hear without diligent concentration. And she was too tired to concentrate. So very, very tired.

When she recognised Aldridge, the glass was suddenly much thinner, and the glare of the real world almost destroyed her. She remembered little of the encounter, just terror at the thought of being expelled from her home, then Hugh holding her and saying he loved her. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, but she couldn't make her lips move. She couldn't remember how talking worked.

After The Day, the duchess and Hugh wouldn't let her stay behind the glass. One of them was always there, making her do things. Coaxing her, scolding her, tempting her. Bit by bit, the glass faded, until she could see and hear clearly, though always at one remove.

Aunt Eleanor—that was what Becky was to call her—Aunt Eleanor made her feed the little girl. It was her primary job. The little girl was very pretty, and everyone loved her. Becky thought she should love her too, but she could not summon more than a remote interest.

Love sat somewhere on the other side of the glass. Far away, where she could not touch it. She had loved once. Sarah. Hugh. Aldridge. Sophie. Emma. The love was still there, but she couldn't reach it.

Soon it would be spring. She would need to plan her gardens. She had promised Hugh roses, and they had been planted in October before she became ill, but other plantings would be needed when the ground warmed a little.

It worried her that Aldridge was still here. Was he waiting for her to fail, so he could take her away? But Hugh said he was waiting for his mother. Hugh said Aldridge was helping him, and that he would go when Her Grace left.

Becky hoped it would be a long time till Her Grace left, because after she went, Becky would be alone with Hugh, and she was so afraid of disappointing him.

Finally, before Becky felt ready, the duchess said they would soon have to move on to the next house in the endless round of Haverford duchy properties. Two days later, Becky stood on the steps with Hugh and the girls, saying goodbye.

Cousin Agatha—if she had another name, Becky hadn't heard it—presented a pale cheek for a kiss. The duchess enfolded Becky in a perfumed embrace and then kissed Hugh and told him to carry on with what he was doing.

Aldridge was the last.

He had been saying goodbye to the children. Now, he came and clasped Hugh's hand and shoulder. "Don't forget, Overton, I've promised you a broken neck if you mistreat her."

"And I, you, if you tease her," Hugh grumbled back. But both men were grinning, so it was just some silly male ritual.

Then Aldridge came to kiss her, and she was grateful for the glass, thin though it now was, because she didn't flinch when he hugged her and pressed a kiss to her cheek. "For you are as close to me as a brother, Overton," he told Hugh fiercely, "which makes Becky my sister."

She managed not to shake, and even to smile, as they entered the carriages, now converted for the thaw by the addition of wheels that had, apparently, travelled in one of the baggage carriages. Hugh must have sensed something, because he squeezed her hand and whispered he was proud of her.

And then they were gone, five splendid carriages in a line down the drive. And she and her family had the house to themselves again.

Little changed, except Hugh had to take up the estate and mill business Aldridge had been doing for him. He liked to have her near, and she would recline on the couch in his study while he worked, and feed the baby, or sew, or read. Sometimes, he discussed his problems with her.

She struggled to believe in the love he professed. How could he love her, when he knew where she had come from? But he continued to reassure her, not just in words, but in his care for her, in the way he organised the household around her weaknesses, rode through the snow to the village to bring her treats, sang and read aloud to keep her entertained. And with every loving word and gesture, the glass between her and the world grew thinner and thinner.

Until one day, when the little girl was feeding. The wet nurse was long gone, no longer needed. A nursemaid brought the baby to her at mealtimes, and the baby liked her meals complete and often. Today, though, she was almost full, and was playing with the nipple instead of feeding.

Becky removed it from the little girl's mouth, and then bumped it against her cheek to encourage her to take it properly.

A gurgle of laughter, and just like that, the glass thinned almost to nothing.

"Belle," she cooed. Such a good name for a beautiful little girl. Belle gurgled again, her lips spread into the most delightful grin. "Belle, Belle, Belle." With each repeat, Becky bumped Belle's cheek, and Belle gurgled. "Look, Hugh, Belle is laughing."

A sound alerted her. He was kneeling a few feet away, tears running down his cheeks. "Hugh? Hugh, my love, what is the matter? What is wrong?"

"You have never called her by her name before." He scooted closer, putting protective gentle arms around them both. "You have never called me your love before, either."

She ducked her head, suddenly shy. "I love you, Hugh. I have loved you for a long time now."

"I love you, Becky. I think I have loved you since the day we met." He lifted her chin, and touched her lips with his, pulling her closer, until they clung together and the baby between them protested.

"I was afraid I had lost you," she told him. "You didn't want me anymore. You wouldn't make love to me. You moved to another room. I was so afraid, so lonely."

"I was afraid I had lost you, Becky. After all you had been through, I was afraid I was just another man who had taken away your freedom. I couldn't bear to come to you, in case you rejected me, or—worse—pretended to want me, but hated me in your heart."

"No. Oh, no, my love. Hush, little Belle, I didn't mean to crush you. Here, kiss her, Hugh."

He kissed his little girl, then his big girl, and made them both giggle.

"It was different with you, Hugh. You promised to love, honour, and cherish me, to worship me with your body. We were not... You did not use me. You never used me. You completed me. We did not couple, we united. We became one."

He kissed her again at that, and Belle wriggled and squealed. "Has she finished her meal?"

Becky nodded, knowing what he was saying. Belle would yell the house down if she was still hungry, and the nursemaid would bring her back, and Becky didn't have to look at Hugh's fall to know what he was hungry for. The glint in his eyes spoke for him, and besides, she was hungry, too.

Hugh took Belle from her, opened the door where the nursemaid waited, handed the baby over with a final kiss, and carefully locked the door.

Then he turned back. "We became one," he agreed. "It is different, is it not? One flesh. Not just two people after pleasure, but pleasure that takes us beyond ourselves into... I don't know how to describe it."

She shook her head. She didn't have the words either, and then suddenly she did. "I have never been united with anyone before you, and you have never been united with anyone before me."

Hugh agreed. "We complete one another." He dropped his voice to that low, melodious tone that vibrated through her pelvis to her most intimate places. "At this moment, I would very much like to unite with you, Rebecca, Baroness Overton."

And Baroness Overton welcomed her baron home, as the last of the glass between her and the world disappeared entirely.

(But wait. There's more. Come back next week for the first chapter in Part 3 of this novel, for a happy-ever-after with a slight twist.)