All eyes in the room were glued to Darya, stunned by her statement.
"Murdered? Good God," Louis murmured.
"Could it be possible?" Liam asked.
"I hadn't realized... " Eleanor whispered, placing her hand over her heart.
Harry was the last to react and the most logical in his response. "Explain why you believe this,'' he ordered.
"Niall, will you please go upstairs and fetch my list for me?"
"You have a list of reasons why you suspect your friend was murdered? " Louis asked.
"She has a list for everything," Harry commented. Darya was pleased that he didn't sound at all condescending.
"Yes, I do have a list,'' Darya said. "I wanted to organize my thoughts about Elizabeth's disappearance and try to come up with some sort of plan. I knew something was wrong as soon as I heard she'd eloped. Elizabeth never would have done such a thing. Appearances were more important to her than love. Besides, I don't think she would have allowed herself to fall in love with someone she believed inferior to her station in life. She was sometimes a little shallow and a bit of a snob as well, but those were her only faults. She was also very kindhearted."
"He has to be someone in society,'' Liam decided aloud.
"Yes, I think so, too,'' Darya agreed. "I also think this man begged her to meet him somewhere and her curiosity led her to forget caution. She was certainly flattered by his attention."
"She must have been terribly naive,'' Eleanor remarked.
"So is Catherine," Darya stated with concern.
"Catherine? What does my sister have to do with this?" Harry asked, confused at the mention of his sister.
"She made me promise not to tell, but her safety is at issue and I must break her confidence. She also received flowers this morning."
"Hell, I need a brandy,'' Louis muttered.
Niall returned to the salon just then. He handed a pile of papers to Harry to pass along to Darya. He'd heard Louis's request and immediately turned to fetch the brandy.
"Bring the bottle, " Louis ordered.
"I hope to God we're all jumping to the wrong conclusion,'' Liam said.
"Better that we are,'' Louis countered. "Three women in our family are being courted by the bastard. Think the worst and plan accordingly,'' he added, his voice hard. Harry was sorting through the stack of papers, looking for the list relating to their discussion. He paused when he saw his name at the top of one sheet. Darya wasn't paying any attention to her husband now. Her gaze was focused on his brother.
"Louis, you don't have sufficient information to assume there are only three,'' she explained. "This man could have sent dozens of gifts to women all over London."
"She's right about that,'' Liam agreed.
Louis shook his head. "My gut feeling is that he's coming after one of ours."
Harry had just finished reading Darya's list. It took everything in him to control his reaction to what he'd just read. His hand shook when he placed the paper on the bottom of the pile.
He was going to become a father. He was so damn pleased he wanted to take Darya into his arms and kiss her.
And what a time to find out, he thought to himself. Harry wouldn't let her know he'd read the list, of course. He would wait until she told him. He'd give her until tonight, when they were in bed together...
"Why are you smiling, Harry? It's a damn bizarre reaction considering what we're discussing,'' Louis told him.
"I was thinking about something else."
"Do pay attention, dear,'' Darya requested.
Harry turned to look at her. She saw the warm glint in his eyes and wondered what in heaven's name he'd been thinking about. Before she could ask him, he leaned down and kissed her.
It was a quick, hard kiss that was over and done with before she could react.
"For God's sake, Harry,'' Louis muttered.
"We're newly married,'' Darya blurted out, trying to find some excuse for her husband's unexpected display of affection.
Niall came in with a tray loaded with goblets and a large decanter of brandy. He placed the tray on the table near Darya and leaned over to whisper close to her ear.
"Cook's back."
"Does she have news?"
Niall eagerly nodded. Louis poured himself a drink and downed it in one long swallow. Both Liam and Harry declined the brandy.
"May I have a drink, please?" Darya asked. She didn't particularly like the taste of brandy, but she thought the warm liquid might take some of the chill out of her. She was feeling queasy, too, and she was certain the disturbing talk about murder was the cause.
"Niall, get Darya some water,'' Harry ordered.
"I would rather have brandy,'' she countered.
"No."
She was confused by his firm denial of her drink request. "Why not?"
Harry didn't have a quick answer for her question. He wanted to tell her brandy probably wasn't good for her delicate condition. He couldn't, of course, because she hadn't told him about the baby yet.
"Why are you smiling? Really, Harry, you're the most confusing man."
He forced himself to re-focus on the matter at hand. "I don't like you drinking," he announced.
"But I never drink," she replied, still confused by his strange behavior.
"That's right," Harry agreed. "And you aren't going to start now."
Niall tapped Darya on her shoulder, reminding her of his message.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she asked. She noticed her lists were in his hands then. "What are you doing with those?"
"I'm holding them for you," he replied. "Would you like me to look through them for the list you made concerning Elizabeth?"
"No, thank you," she replied. She took the papers, found Elizabeth's list second from the top, and then started to stand up. Harry shook his head at her and hauled her back.
"You aren't going anywhere."
"I must speak to Cook."
"Niall can answer her questions."
"You don't understand," Darya said in a low whisper. "She went on a little errand for me and I wanted to find out the results."
"What errand?" Harry asked.
She debated answering him for a minute or two. "You'll get angry," she said quietly.
"No, I won't."
Her expression told him she didn't believe him.
"Darya?"
He said her name in a warning tone of voice he was certain would make her wish to answer him quickly, but when she simply smiled and raised her eyebrow at him, he knew she wasn't at all impressed.
"Please tell me," he asked.
He had asked, not ordered, and that made all the difference in her mind. Now satisfied, she immediately answered him. "I sent her to the Viscount of Talbolt's town house. Before you get upset over this, Harry, please remember you ordered me not to talk to the viscount."
He was thoroughly confused. "I still don't understand."
"I sent Cook to talk to Lady Constance's staff. I wanted to find out if she'd received any gifts before she disappeared. Husband, we both know she didn't run away from her husband. Such an excuse is unthinkable."
"She did receive gifts," Niall blurted out. "The viscount pitched a tantrum, too. Their staff believes Lady Constance ran off with the suitor. The viscount isn't talking but his employees believe he thinks this as well. The upstairs maid told Cook the viscount has been drinking heavily to ease his torment and stays locked up in his library day and night."
"What the hell is going on here?" Louis asked. "Could there be a connection between the two women?"
"They both disappeared," Eleanor reminded her husband. "Isn't that connection enough?"
"That isn't what I meant, sweetheart."
"Maybe he's being random in his selection," Liam suggested.
"There's always a motive," Harry argued.
"Perhaps with the first one," Liam agreed.
Darya was confused by his comment. "Why a motive with the first and not the second?"
Liam looked at Harry before answering. Harry nodded. "There was probably a motive behind the first murder," Liam explained. "But then he got a taste for killing."
"Some do," Louis admitted.
"Dear God," Eleanor exclaimed. She visibly shivered. Louis immediately got up and went over to his wife. He pulled her out of the chair, sat down, and then settled her on his lap. She leaned against him.
"Do you mean to tell me he likes killing?" Darya asked.
"Could be," Liam answered.
Darya's stomach turned queasy again. She leaned closer into her husband's side in an attempt to gain more of his warmth. She felt safe and comforted when she was near him. That was what love was all about, she thought to herself.
"We're going to have to get a lot more information," Louis stated in a serious tone.
"I tried to talk to Elizabeth's brother, but he wasn't at all helpful," Darya said.
"He'll be helpful when I talk to him," Harry snapped.
"I can't imagine why he would cooperate," Darya replied. "You threw him out on the pavement the last time you spoke to him."
"What about asking Roberts for some help?" Liam suggested.
Darya closed her eyes and listened to the discussion. Harry was rubbing her arm absentmindedly. His touch was wonderfully soothing. The men's voices were low and while they formulated their plans of action, she thought about how nice it was to finally have her husband's cooperation. She knew he would find out what happened to Elizabeth... and why. She didn't have any doubts about Harry's ability to find the villain, because she was certain she was married to the most intelligent man in all of England. He was probably the most stubborn, too, but that flaw would come in handy now. He wouldn't quit until he had his answers.
"What the hell else do we do?" Louis asked.
Darya looked down at her list before she answered him. "You find out who profited from Elizabeth's death. Harry, you could find out if any policies were taken out. Stewart would be happy to help you."
All three men nodded their agreement. "I thought you were asleep," Harry remarked.
She ignored that comment. "You should also consider all the other motives... in the general sense," she explained. "Jealousy and rejection are two motives. Owen mentioned his sister had turned down several proposals. Perhaps one of those men didn't like being told no."
It occurred to Eleanor that Darya was actually very smart. Harry was grinning, suggesting to Eleanor that he was also aware of his wife's cleverness, but Liam and Louis hadn't realized it yet.
"Yes, of course, we'll look into every possible motive," Louis said. "I just wish we had a clue or two."
"Oh, but you do," Darya replied. "The fact that three women in your family have received gifts is clue enough, Louis. It occurs to me that one of you men or one of us women has offended the man."
Harry nodded. "That thought had already occurred to me," he said. "He's getting careless."
"Or more bold," Liam interjected.
"Isn't everyone forgetting one important fact?" Eleanor asked.
"What's that?" Louis asked his wife.
"There aren't any bodies. We really could be jumping in the wrong direction."
"Do you think we are?" Darya asked.
Eleanor thought about it a long minute, then whispered, "No."
Harry took charge then. He gave everyone but Darya an assignment. He told Eleanor to talk to as many of the ladies in their social circle as possible to find out if anyone else had received a gift. He warned her not to tell the women about the gifts she, Catherine, and Darya had received because some of the more foolish women might think this was all some sort of competitive game.
Liam was given the duty of taking over the offices while Harry concentrated on finding answers.
"Louis, Darya's right. Owen won't talk to me. You'll have to deal with him."
"I will," Louis agreed. "I should also talk to Talbolt," he added. "We went to Oxford together and he might be more receptive to hearing me out."
"I'll talk to Father," Harry said then. "He's going to have to keep a watchful eye on Catherine until the bastard is caught."
Darya waited to hear what Harry wanted her to do. A few minutes passed before her impatience got the better of her. She nudged her husband to get his attention. "Haven't you forgotten me?"
"No."
"What is my assignment, Harry? What do you want me to do?"
"Rest, sweetheart."
"Rest?" She'd sounded incensed. Harry wouldn't let her argue with him. Louis was ready to leave. He lifted his wife off his lap and stood up. Liam also stood and started for the door.
"Come along, Darya. You need a nap," Harry said.
She certainly did not need a nap, she thought to herself, and if she hadn't been so tired, she would have told him so. Arguing with her husband required stamina, however, and Darya didn't seem to have any left. The dark discussion had taken all of her energy.
Louis was smiling at her. Darya didn't want him to think she was a weakling, and she knew he'd heard Harry insist she rest. She shoved the list into his hands. "There are other motives I've written down you might wish to consider," she said.
Before Louis could thank her, she blurted out, "I am a little tired, but only because Harry and I have been keeping such late hours every night. He's tired, too," she added with a nod.
Louis winked at her. She didn't know what to make of that. Harry just nudged her up the stairs. Niall saw their guests out.
"Why are you treating me like an invalid?"
She asked him that question in her bedroom. Harry was unbuttoning her dress for her. "You look worn out," he said. "And I like undressing you."
He was being very gentle with her. After she'd been stripped down to her white silk chemise, he leaned down, lifted the hair away from the back of her neck, and kissed her there.
He pulled the covers back and tucked her in bed. "I'm only going to rest for a few minutes," she said. "I don't want to fall asleep."
He bent over the bed and kissed her brow. "Why not?"
"If I sleep now, I won't be able to sleep tonight."
Harry started for the door. "All right, sweetheart. Just rest."
"Wouldn't you like to rest too?"
He laughed. "No. I have work to do."
"I'm sorry, Harry."
He'd just pulled the door open. "What are you sorry about?"
"I always seem to interfere in your work. I'm sorry about that."
He nodded, started out the doorway, then changed his mind. He turned around and walked back to the side of the bed. It was ridiculous for her to apologize for interfering and he wanted to tell her so. She was his wife, after all, not some distant relative making a nuisance of herself.
His lecture would have to wait. She was sound asleep. He was a little amazed at how quickly she'd fallen asleep and immediately felt a little guilty because he'd kept her out every night. Damn, she looked so delicate and vulnerable to him.
Harry didn't know how long he stood there staring down at Darya. His mind was consumed with the need to protect her. He'd never felt this possessive... or this lucky, he suddenly realized.
She loved him.
And, Lord, how he loved her. The truth didn't sneak up on him and clobber him over the head, though. He had known for a long time that he loved her, even though he had stubbornly refused to openly acknowledge it. God only knew he had all the symptoms of a man in love. From the moment he'd met her, he'd been acting extremely possessive and protective. He hadn't been able to keep his hands off her and for a long while he believed he was just consumed with lust for her. But he knew better. It wasn't lust at all.
Oh, yes, he'd loved her for a long time. He couldn't imagine why she loved him. Had she been awake, he might have asked her that question then and there. She certainly could have done better with someone else. Someone with a title... someone with land and inheritance... someone with a sound, healthy body.
Harry didn't think of himself as a romantic. He was a logical, practical man who had learned that he could achieve success if he worked hard enough. In a dark corner of his mind he had harbored the thought that God had turned his back on him. It was an unreasonable belief, and it had taken root right after his leg had been nearly destroyed. He remembered hearing the physician whisper the need to amputate the limb. He also remembered his friend's vehement refusal. Liam wouldn't let Dr. Summers touch the leg, but Harry had still been so damned afraid to sleep, fearing that when he awakened, he wouldn't be whole.
The leg had survived, but the constant pain he now lived with made the victory somewhat hollow.
Miracles were for other people, Harry had always believed. Until Darya came into his life. His princess actually loved him. In his heart he knew her love was unconditional. He realized that if he'd only had one leg, she would have loved him just as much. He would have gained her sympathy, perhaps, but certainly not her pity. Her every action showed her strength and her determination to take care of him.
She would always be there for him, nagging him and arguing with him and loving him no matter what. And that, Harry decided, was definitely a miracle.
God hadn't forgotten him after all.
When Darya awoke from her nap, she didn't feel rested. She couldn't stop thinking about her pregnancy and was tormented by the burden she felt she was placing on Harry. She should leave him, she thought. Darya knew she wasn't being reasonable, but she was so upset inside she could barely think what to do. Liam's casual remark about how he and Harry had both counted on Sophia's inheritance to help their shipping company played on her mind until she was ready to cry.
Harry, she decided, had rejected her on every level possible. He didn't want her to help him with his company books, he didn't want her inheritance, and he didn't particularly want or need her love. His heart seemed to be surrounded by shields, and Darya didn't believe she would ever be able to get him to love her.
She knew she was being pitiful. She didn't care. Mother Superior's letter had arrived that morning, and Darya had already read the thing at least a dozen times.
She wanted to go home. She was so horribly homesick for the nuns and the land, she burst into tears. It was quite all right, she decided. She was alone, after all, and Harry was working in his study with the door closed. He wouldn't hear her.
Dear God, she wished she wasn't so emotional these days. She couldn't seem to apply logic to anything. She stood at the window in her robe and gown, looking out, and her mind was so engrossed with her worries she didn't even hear the door open.
"What is it, sweetheart? Don't you feel well?"
Harry's voice was filled with concern. She took a deep, calming breath and turned to look at him.
"I would like to go home."
He clearly hadn't been prepared for that request. He looked quite astonished. He was quick to recover. He shut the door behind him and walked toward her.
"You are home."
She wanted to argue with him. She didn't. "Yes, of course," she agreed. "But I would like your permission to go back to the convent for a visit. The convent is just a walk away from Stone Haven, and I would like to see my parents' home again."
Harry walked over to her writing desk. "What is this really all about?" he asked her. He leaned against the edge of the table while he waited for her to answer him. "I received a letter from Mother Superior today, and I'm suddenly very homesick."
Harry didn't show any outward reaction to her plea. "I can't take the time right now to... "
"Stefan and Damon would go with me," she interrupted. "I don't expect you to go along. I know how busy you are."
He could feel himself getting angry. The very idea of his wife leaving on such a journey without him by her side appalled him. He stopped himself from immediately denying her request, however, because in truth he had never seen her this upset. It worried the hell out of him, given her delicate condition.
She was out of her mind if she thought he would ever let her go anywhere without him.
He decided to use reason to make her understand. "Darya... "
"Harry, you don't need me."
He was taken aback by that absurd comment. "The hell I don't need you!" he practically shouted.
She shook her head. He nodded. Then she turned her back on him.
"You have never needed me,'' she whispered.
"Darya, sit down."
"I don't want to sit down."
"I want to talk to you about this... " He wanted to say, "ridiculous notion,'' but he caught himself in time.
She ignored him and continued to stare out the window.
He noticed the stack of papers on her desk and suddenly knew what he was going to do. He quickly sorted through her lists until he found the one with his name on the top.
She wasn't paying any attention to him. He folded the sheet in half and tucked it in his pocket. Then he ordered her to sit down again. His voice was harder, more insistent.
She took her time complying. She wiped the tears away from her face with the backs of her hands and finally walked over to the side of the bed. She sat down, folded her hands in her lap, and bowed her head.
"Have you suddenly stopped loving me?"
He hadn't been able to keep the worry out of his voice. She was so surprised by his question, she looked up at him. "No, of course I haven't stopped loving you." He nodded, both pleased and relieved to hear her fervent answer. Then he straightened away from the desk and walked over to stand in front of her.
"There isn't any Uncle Edward, is there?"
The switch in topic confused her. "What does Edward have to do with my request to go home?"
"Damn it, this is your home,'' he countered.
She lowered her head again. He immediately regretted the burst of anger and took a breath to calm himself. "Bear with me for just a moment, Darya, and answer my question."
She debated telling him the truth for a long minute. "No, there isn't any Uncle Edward."
"I didn't think so."
"Why didn't you think so?"
"There were never any letters delivered here from the man, yet I heard you tell Louis you'd received a letter. You made him up, and I think I know why."
"I really don't wish to talk about this."
He wasn't about to let her run away from this discussion. "You had a four-hour nap today," he reminded her.
"I was catching up on my sleep," she announced.
"Stewart wouldn't take stock orders from a woman, would he? So you invented Edward, a convenient recluse who happened to be a very close friend of your late father."
She wasn't going to argue with him. "Yes."
He nodded again. He clasped his hands behind his back and frowned down at her. "You hide your intelligence, don't you, Darya? You obviously have a knack for the market, but instead of boasting about your cleverness with investments, you invented another man to take the credit."
She looked up at him so he could see her frown. "Men listen to other men," she informed him. "It isn't acceptable for a woman to have such interests. It isn't considered ladylike. And it isn't a knack, Harry. I read the journals and listen to Stewart's suggestions. It doesn't take a brilliant mind to be guided by his advice."
"Will you agree you're at least fairly intelligent and can reason most things through logically?"
She wondered where in heaven's name this discussion was leading. Her husband was acting like he was uncomfortable. She couldn't imagine why.
"Yes," she answered. "I will agree I'm fairly intelligent."
"Then why in God's name haven't you been able to reason through all the obvious facts and figure out that I love you?"
Her eyes widened and she leaned back. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but she couldn't remember what it was.
"I love you, Darya."
It had been difficult voicing the words in his heart, yet once they were spoken, he felt incredibly free. He smiled at his wife and said the words again.
She jumped off the bed and frowned up at him. "You do not love me," she declared.
"I sure as hell do," he argued. "If you would apply a little reason... "
"I did use reason," she interrupted. "And came to the opposite conclusion."
"Sweetheart... "
"Don't you dare 'sweetheart' me!" she cried out.
Harry reached for her, but she jerked away and sat down again. "Oh, I reasoned it through and through and through. Shall I tell you my conclusions?"
She didn't give him time to answer her. "You have turned your back on everything I had to give you. It would be illogical for me to assume you love me."
"I've what?" he asked, stunned by the vehemence in her voice.
"You've rejected everything," her voice distraught but firm.
"Exactly what have I rejected?"
"My title, my position, my castle, my inheritance, even my help with your company." Tears betrayed her, escaping down her cheeks as she listed everything he had refused to accepted from her.
He finally understood. He was an idiot. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her. She tried to push herself away from him. They fell onto the bed. Harry protected her from his weight as he stretched out on top of her. He braced himself on his elbows so he could look down at her.
Her hair spilled out on the pillows and her eyes, cloudy with tears, made her appear more vulnerable to him. Dear God, she was beautiful, even when she was glaring at him. "I love you, Darya," he whispered. "And I have taken everything you had to give me."
She shook her head in protest. He nodded at her and continued. "I rejected nothing of value. You offered me all a man could ever want. You gave me your love, your trust, your loyalty, your mind, your heart, and your body. None of those offerings is material, sweetheart, and if you lost all the financial trappings that came along with you, it wouldn't matter to me. You're all I have ever wanted. You're more than I ever dreamed of, and you're more than I deserve."
She was overwhelmed by his beautiful words. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears, and she knew then that it had been difficult for him to tell her how he felt. Harry did love her. She was so filled with joy, she burst into tears.
"Love, don't cry," he pleaded. "I can't stand to see you so miserable."
She tried to stop crying long enough to explain she wasn't miserable at all. Harry gently wiped her tears away.
"I didn't have anything to give you when I married you," he told her. "And yet... on our wedding night I knew you loved me. I had trouble accepting it at first. It seemed so damned unfair to you. I should have remembered a comment you made to me about the prince regent. That reminder would have saved both of us a good deal of worry."
"What comment?" she managed to stammer through her tears.
"I told you I'd heard the prince regent was taken with you," he answered. "Do you remember what you said to me then?"
She did remember. "I told you he was taken with what I am, not who I am."
"Well?" he demanded in a rough whisper.
"Well, what?"
But the answer had finally dawned on her as she stared up into his captivating green eyes. The smile that grew on her face was radiant. She understood.
"I thought you were fairly intelligent," he grinned, cocking his eyebrow at her.
"You love me."
"Yes."
He leaned down and kissed her. When he pulled away, she looked properly convinced.
"Have you also worked it out in your mind?" she asked.
He didn't understand what she meant. He was too busy unbuttoning the top of her gown. "Worked out what?"
"That I fell in love with who you are, not what you are," she answered. "It was your strength and courage that drew me to you, Harry. I needed both."
He had to kiss her again. "I needed you," he admitted.
He wanted to kiss her more. But she wanted to talk. "Harry, you present yourself to the world as a man struggling to build a company."
"I am a man struggling to build a company."
He rolled to his side so he could get her robe and gown off her more quickly.
"You aren't a pauper," she announced. She sat up in bed and started tugging her robe off her shoulders. Harry helped her.
"I had a good look at your books, remember? You've made an amazing profit, but you poured every bit of it back into the company and the result is very impressive. You've been trying to build an empire, but if you'll only step back and take a good look you'll realize you've already accomplished your goal. Why, you have close to twenty ships now with cargo orders stretching into next year and that must surely convince you that your company is no longer a struggling venture."
He was having trouble listening to what she was telling him. She'd shed her robe and was now inching her gown up over her head. His throat tightened up on him. Once it was off, he immediately reached for her. She shook her head at him. "First, I would like you to answer a question for me, please."
He might have nodded but he couldn't be certain. Intense desire burned inside him and all he wanted to do was bury himself in her. He was so damn anxious to touch her, he was literally destroying his shirt in his hurry to get the thing off.
"Harry, when is enough enough?"
His voice was rough and filled with need when answered her. "I'll never be able to get enough of you."
"Nor I you," she whispered. "But that isn't what I was asking... "
Harry silenced her with his mouth. She couldn't resist him a moment longer. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to the wonder of his passion... and his love.
He was demanding, yet incredibly gentle with her at the same time. His touch was magical, and while she was in the throes of her own passion, he told her again and again how much he loved her.
She would have told him she loved him, but she was so caught up in him she couldn't form the words. She had no idea how much time had passed when she rolled onto her back, closed her eyes, and listened to her pounding heartbeat while the air cooled her feverish skin.
He rolled to his side, propped his head up on his hand, and grinned down at her. He looked thoroughly satisfied.
He stroked a path from her chin to her belly, and then his hand gently rubbed the flat of her stomach.
"Sweetheart, do you have something you want to tell me?"
She was feeling too content to think about anything other than what had just happened to her.
Harry was going to nag her until she told him about the baby, but Niall started banging on the bedroom door then, interrupting that intention.
"Milord, your brother's here. I put him in the study."
"I'll be right there," Harry shouted.
He muttered about his brother's bad timing. Darya laughed. She didn't bother to open her eyes when she said, "It would have been bad timing thirty minutes ago. I would say he was being very considerate."
He agreed with a laugh at her cheek. He started to leave the bed, then turned back to her. She opened her eyes just in time to watch him lean over her and place a kiss on her navel. She brushed her hand across his shoulder. The hair on the back of his neck curled around her fingers.
Harry was letting his hair grow long again. That sudden realization hit her all at once. She was so happy she almost started crying again. She didn't, of course, because Harry had told her he found it upsetting to see her cry, and she doubted he would understand anyway. She understood, though, and that was all that mattered. Marriage hadn't turned out to be a prison for her husband.
He was puzzled by the look on her face. "Sweetheart?" he asked.
"You're still free, Harry."
His eyes widened over that remark. "You say the strangest things," he remarked.
"Your brother's waiting."
He nodded. "I want you to think about my question while I talk to Louis. All right, love?"
"What question?"
Harry got out of bed and pulled his pants on. "I asked you if you had anything else to tell me,'' he reminded her.
He slipped his bare feet into his shoes and started toward his bedroom in search of a fresh shirt. He'd shredded the one he'd been wearing.
"Think about it,'' he told her. He grabbed his jacket, winked at her, and then left the room.
Louis was sprawled out in the leather chair next to the fireplace. Harry sat down behind his desk. He reached for his pen and paper.
Louis took one look at his brother and broke into a wide grin. "I see I interrupted you. Sorry,'' he grinned.
Harry ignored the laughter in his brother's voice. He knew he looked disheveled. He hadn't bothered button his shirt. He hadn't bothered to comb his hair, either.
"Marriage agrees with you, Harry."
Harry didn't pretend indifference. He looked up at his brother and let him see the truth in his expression. The shields were gone.
"I'm a man in love."
Louis laughed. "It took you long enough to realize it."
"No longer than it took you to realize you loved Eleanor."
Louis agreed with a nod. Harry went back to writing on his paper.
"What are you doing?"
Harry's grin was a bit sheepish when he admitted he was starting a list.
"I seem to have caught my wife's obsession for organization,'' he said. "Did you talk to the viscount?"
Louis's smile faded. He nodded. "Geoffrey is a mess,'' he said, referring to the viscount. "He's barely coherent. The last time he saw his wife they had an argument and he has spent every minute since tormenting himself over the harsh words he said to her. His anguish is aching to see."
"The poor devil,'' Harry said. He shook his head, then asked, "Did he tell you what the argument was about?"
"He was certain she'd taken a lover,'' Louis answered. "She was receiving gifts and Geoffrey jumped to the conclusion she was involved with another man."
"Hell."
"He still hasn't figured it out, Harry. I told him about the gifts our wives received but he was too confused from drink to understand the ramifications. He kept saying his anger caused Constance into running away with her lover."
Harry leaned back in his chair. "Did he have anything helpful to add?"
"No."
The brothers lapsed into silence, each caught up in his own thoughts. Harry pushed his chair back and bent over to take his shoes off. He tossed off his left shoe, then his right, and was about to straighten up again when he noticed the lining protruding from his left shoe.
"Damn,'' he muttered to himself. His most comfortable pair of shoes were already wearing out. He picked up the shoe to see if it could be repaired. The thick insert fell into his hands.
He'd never seen anything like it. He immediately picked up the other shoe and examined it. Niall chose that moment to walk into the study with a fresh decanter of brandy. He took one look at what Harry was holding in his hand and immediately turned around to leave.
"Come back here, Niall," Harry ordered.
"Did you wish a drink, milord?" Niall asked Louis.
"Yes," Louis answered. "But I want water, not brandy. After seeing Geoffrey tonight, the thought of a hard drink turns my stomach."
"I shall fetch the water at once."
Niall tried to leave again. Harry called him back.
"Did you wish some water?" the butler asked his employer.
Harry held up the insert. "I wish to find out if you know anything about this."
Niall was torn between his loyalties. He was Harry's servant, of course, and was certainly loyal to him, but he had also promised his princess not to say a word about the bootmaker.
Niall's silence was a bit damning. Louis started laughing. "From the look on his face, I would say he knows a great deal about something. What are you holding, Harry?"
He tossed the leather insert to Louis. "I just found this hidden under the lining of my shoe. It's been specifically made for the left foot."
He turned his gaze back to his butler. "Darya's behind this, isn't she?"
Niall cleared his throat. "They have become your favorite shoes, milord," he quickly pointed out. "The insert made your shoe fit your heel much better. I hope you won't become too angry over this."
Harry wasn't at all angry, but his butler was too young and too caught up in his worry to realize it.
"Our princess realizes that you are a bit... sensitive about your leg," Niall continued, "and for that reason she did resort to a little trickery. I do hope you won't be angry with her."
Harry smiled. Niall's defense of Darya made him happy. "Will you ask 'our princess' to come in here? Knock softly on her door, Niall, and if she doesn't immediately answer, assume she's asleep."
Niall hurried out of the study. He realized he was still holding the decanter in his hands and quickly turned back to the study. He put the brandy on the side table and once again left.
Louis tossed the insert back to his brother. "Does the contraption work?"
"Yes," Harry answered. "I didn't realize... "
Louis saw the vulnerability in his brother's eyes and was amazed. It wasn't like Harry to let anyone see beyond the smile. He suddenly felt closer to his brother, and all because Harry wasn't shutting him out. He leaned forward in his chair, his elbows braced on his knees.
"What didn't you realize?"
Harry stared at the thick heel of the insert when he answered. "That my left leg was shorter than my right. It makes sense. The loss of muscle... "
He forced a shrug. Louis didn't know what to say to him. This was the first time Harry had acknowledged his condition and Louis wasn't certain how to proceed. If he sounded too nonchalant, his brother might assume he didn't care. Yet if he sounded too earnest and prodded him with questions, Harry might slam the door on the subject for another five years.
It was damned awkward. And in the end, he didn't say anything. He changed the topic. "Have you talked to Father about Catherine yet?"
"Yes," Harry answered. "He promises to be on his guard. He's alerted his staff, too. If anything else is delivered, Father will see it first."
"Is he going to warn Catherine?"
"He didn't want to worry her," Harry replied. "I insisted. She needs to understand this is a serious matter. Catherine's a bit... flighty, isn't she?"
Louis smiled. "She isn't completely grown up yet, Harry. Give her time."
"And we must protect her until she does grow up."
"Yes."
Darya appeared in the doorway with Niall at her side. She wore a dark blue robe that covered her from chin to slippers. She walked inside the study, smiled at Louis, and then turned to her husband. Harry held up the insert for her to see. She immediately lost her smile and started backing out of the room.
"Darya, do you know something about this?"
His words stopped her attempt to exit. She didn't look frightened, just uncertain. She couldn't tell from her husband's expression if he was angry or merely irritated with her. She reminded herself that her husband had vowed his love for her just minutes before and took a step forward. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I know something about the insert. Good evening, Louis. It's good to see you again," she added in a rush.
She was deliberately avoiding the issue. Harry shook his head at her. "I asked you a question, Darya," he said.
"Now I understand your question," she blurted out. She took another step forward. "Just before you left my bedroom you asked me if I had something to tell you and now I realize you'd found the insert. All right, then. I'll tell you. I interfered. Yes, I did. I had your best interests at heart, Harry. I'm sorry you're so touchy about your leg, and if you weren't, I could have discussed my idea with you before sending Niall to the bootmaker. I had to force him to take on the assignment. He's most loyal to you," she was quick to add in case he thought Niall had somehow betrayed him.
"No, Princess," Niall argued. "I begged you to let me take on the assignment."
Harry rolled his eyes heavenward. "What made you think of the idea?" he asked.
She was surprised by his question. "You have a limp... at night, when you're tired, you tend to limp a little. Harry, you are aware you favor your right leg, aren't you?"
He almost laughed. "Yes, I'm aware."
"Do you agree you're a fairly intelligent man?"
She was turning his words back on him. He held his frown. "Yes."
"Then why didn't you try to reason why you were limping?"
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I had an accident at sea and almost lost my leg. Call me daft, Darya, but I assumed that was the reason I limped."
She shook her head. "That was the reason for the injury," she explained. "I looked at the bottoms of your shoes. The left heel was barely worn on each pair. Then, of course, I knew what to do." She let out a sigh. "I do wish you weren't so sensitive about this issue."
She turned to look at Louis. "He is sensitive, though. Have you, by chance, noticed?"
Louis nodded.
She smiled because he agreed with her. "He won't even talk about it."
"He's talking about it now," Louis told her.
She whirled around to look at her husband. "You are talking about it," she cried out.
She looked thrilled. Harry didn't know what to make of that. "Yes," he agreed.
"Then will you let me sleep in your bed every night?"
Louis laughed. Darya ignored him. "I know why you go back to your room. It's because your leg hurts and you need to walk. I'm right, aren't I, Harry?"
He didn't answer her.
"Will you please say something?"
"Thank you." His voice was a tiny bit rough.
She was thoroughly confused. "Why are you thanking me?"
"For the insert."
"You aren't angry?"
"No."
She was astonished by his openness.
He was humbled by her thoughtfulness.
They stared at each other a long minute.
"You aren't angry with Niall, are you?" she asked.
"No."
"Why aren't you angry with me?"
"Because you had my best interests at heart."
"What a nice thing to say."
Harry laughed. She smiled. Niall came running into the study and thrust a glass of water at Louis. His attention was on Darya. She saw his worried expression and whispered, "He isn't angry."
Louis drew her attention when he announced he was going home. Harry didn't take his gaze off his wife when he bid his brother good night. "Darya, stay here. Niall will see Louis out."
"As you wish, husband."
"God, I love it when you're humble."
"Why?''
"It's so damned rare."
She shrugged. He laughed again. "Is there something else you wanted to tell me?" he asked.
Her shoulders slumped. The man was too smart. "Oh, all right,'' she muttered. "I talked to Dr. Summers about your leg to get his suggestions. We spoke in confidence, of course."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Suggestions for what?"
"For ways to make your leg feel better. I made a list of his ideas. Would you like me to fetch it for you?"
"Later,'' he answered. "Now, then, is there something else you wanted to tell me?"
The question covered a broad range of topics. Harry decided he'd have to remember to ask her that question every other week in future so that he could find out what she'd been up to. God only knew what clever schemes his wife would dream up next.
She wasn't about to blurt out another confession until she knew what he was fishing for. "Could you be more specific please?"
Her question confirmed his suspicions. There were still more secrets. "No,'' he answered, doing his best not to laugh at her caution. "You know what I'm asking. Tell me."
She sighed, nodded her head in resignation and walked over to the side of his desk. "Stewart told you, didn't he?"
He shook his head.
"Then how did you find out?"
"I'll explain how I found out after you tell me,'' he promised.
"You already know,'' her voice sounding contrite. "You just want to make me feel guilty, don't you? Well, it won't work. I didn't cancel the order for the steam vessel and it's too late for you to interfere. Besides, you told me I could do whatever I wanted with my inheritance. I ordered the ship for myself. Yes, I did. I've always wanted one. If, however, you and Liam would like to use my ship every now and again, I would be happy to share it with you."
"I told Stewart to cancel the order,'' he reminded her.
"I know. I told him Edward had decided he wanted it."
"What the hell else have you kept from me?"
"You didn't know?"
"Darya... "
"You're really starting to irritate me, Harry. You still don't understand how much you hurt me,'' she exclaimed. "Can you imagine how I felt when I heard Liam say that you were both all set to use Sophia's inheritance to build the company? You made such an issue out of turning your back on my inheritance."
Harry pulled her onto his lap. She immediately put her arms around his neck.
He frowned at her. "The money was put aside by the king for both Liam and Sophia,'' he explained.
"My father put his money away for me and my husband."
She had him there, he thought to himself. She knew it, too.
"Your father wonders why he's still in charge of my funds, Harry. It's embarrassing. You should take over the task. I would help."
His smile for her was filled with love. "How about if I helped you manage it?"
"That would be nice." She leaned in and quickly kissed him. "I love you, Harry."
"I love you, too. Sweetheart, isn't there something else you want to tell me?"
She didn't answer him. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out her list just as she snuggled closer to him.
He opened the paper. "I want you to be able to talk to me about anything," he explained. "From this moment on."
She started to pull away from him, but he tightened his hold on her. "I made it impossible for you to talk about my leg, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry about that, sweetheart. Now stay still while I answer your questions for you, all right?"
"I don't understand. I haven't asked you any questions."
"Hush, love," he ordered. He held her close with one hand and lifted the sheet of paper with the other. Her head was now tucked under his chin and she wasn't paying attention to what he was looking at. He silently read the first order for him on her list and then said, "I have listened to your concerns about Elizabeth, haven't I?"
"Yes, but why... "
Harry squeezed her gently. "Be patient," he ordered. He read the second order to himself, then said, "I will promise to soften in my attitude toward your inheritance." In brackets Darya had written the word 'stubborn'. He sighed, resigned. "And I won't be mule-headed about it."
He kept reading the list to himself. The third order made him smile. She had instructed him not to wait five years to realize he loved her.
Since he'd already complied with that command, he moved on to her next order. He should try to be happy he was going to become a father and he shouldn't blame her because she was interfering with his schedule.
He scanned the final question written on the paper. Could pregnant wives become nuns? Harry decided to answer this question next.
"Darya?"
"Yes?"
He kissed the top of her head. "No," he whispered.
What was he going on about? Darya sighed. Her husband was a confusing man. "No, what, husband?"
''Pregnant wives can't become nuns."
She would have jumped off his lap if he'd let her. He held her tight against him until she finally calmed down.
Then she began to rant. "You knew... all this time.... Oh, God, it was the list. You found it and that's why you told me you loved me."
Harry forced her chin up and kissed her hard. "I knew I loved you before I read your list," he told her. "You're going to have to trust me, Darya. Trust your heart, too."
"But... "
He kissed her again, silencing her protest. When he pulled back, she had tears in her eyes. "I'm going to ask you one last time," he said. "Do you have something to tell me?"
She slowly nodded. He looked so arrogantly pleased. Dear God, how she loved him. From the way he was looking at her, she knew he loved her just as much.
Oh, yes, he was happy about the baby. She didn't have any worries about that. His hand had dropped to her stomach and he was gently stroking her. She didn't think he was even aware of what he was doing. But his actions spoke volumes. He was caressing his unborn son or daughter.
"Answer me," he commanded in a rough whisper.
He was looking so fiercely intent now. She smiled at him. Harry always tried to be so serious, so disciplined. She loved that trait in him, of course, but she found she delighted in making him forget himself every now and again.
She did love to tease him.
Harry couldn't hold on to his patience any longer. "Answer me, Darya."
"Yes, Harry. I do have something to tell you." She gazed at him with earnest eyes. "I've decided to become a nun."
He looked like he wanted to throttle her. His glare made her laugh. She wrapped her arms around him again and tucked her head back under his chin.
"We're going to have a baby," she whispered. "Have I mentioned that yet?"
~~~~~
A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this little story. I really hope you've been enjoying it. Feel free to comment and tell me what you think, no matter if it's good or bad. I appreciate all opinions!
There are only 3 chapters left, and I think you might be surprised by what happens in the next one. I'll try to get the final chapters posted this week. Thank you again for reading and commenting!