The Beast's Bluestocking (The Bluestocking War) Eva Devon (best big ereader TXT) 📖

She lifted her hand to his face and cupped his jaw. “I am so glad that you finally realized that.”

“It took far too long,” he said as his heart filled with love.

“Yes,”' she agreed, her eyes dancing, “it did. Never let me go again.”

“I could never let you go again, Phillipa,” he ground out, ashamed he ever had. “Not after I could have lost you like that. The gods would think me the greatest of ingrates. They gave you to me in a chance, in a letter that wasn't supposed to come to me at all. What a fool I was to throw that away, to not see it for what it was when my world was crashing about me.”

“And what was that?” she prompted softly.

“Fate, Phillipa,” he whispered. He placed her hand on his heart and declared, “You and I are fated. I think that cannot be denied. We were meant to meet, and we are meant to be together.”

“And we shall be together forever,” she agreed, and then she took his hand and placed his palm over her heart.

He closed his eyes for the barest moment, so very grateful, and then he gazed upon the woman who would be his wife. “We shall be together until the stars fade and the oceans go dry.”

She laughed. “That is very fanciful. I haven’t said yes yet,” she teased.

“Indeed it is,” he agreed, not at all intimidated that she had not said yes. He trusted that she would. “But I find that I am fanciful this evening, for when one almost loses their entire life in a moment, one appreciates it.”

“I'm glad,” she murmured before she admitted quickly, “I was so very afraid.”

“Of what?” he asked, hating that she had felt thus.

She licked her lips. “I was afraid, per chance, that you did not appreciate this life. That you were merely living it out. Preferring suffering to my love.”

“That's very close to what Merrill said to me,” he grumbled, also grateful to his friend for helping him see reason.

“Is it?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes,” he affirmed. “But never you fear again on that account, Phillipa. I understand the gifts that I have been given. Not once, not twice, but three times.”

“What are those gifts?” she asked.

“Meeting you,” he marveled, “being saved at the Battle of Trafalgar, and then you coming back and insisting I not let you go.”

Her eyes brightened with emotion. “Yes. I say,” she replied firmly. “Oh, and there is a fourth thing,” she said suddenly. “Joe. Joe is alive.”

“I'm a lucky man indeed,” he said.

“We are lucky,” she replied, before she offered her mouth for a kiss.

We.

A single word had never sounded so beautiful in all his life.

Chapter 18

The inquest had gone off without a hitch.

It was remarkable how a group of gentlemen seemed to be remarkably off-put by a duchess sitting at the table whilst death was being discussed.

None of the learned and esteemed gentleman seemed to like the idea of going into too many details as to why she might have had to kill Captain Adams.

It was very clear that Captain Adams had been on the duke’s property when he was not supposed to be. That in itself, to men of English property, was a terrible offense. Trespass was not to be borne.

And there was the fact he had lied to and forced a private audience with the duke's future wife.

All the wealthy, oh so important men all thought it best to take the word of the Duke and Duchess of Grey to heart when coming to their hasty decision.

Of course, it was decided with little debate that Captain Adams's death was not murder and that there was nothing further to discuss.

It was quite clear that Lady Phillipa had been acting in self-defense. Perhaps the fact that the Duke of Blacktower and his wife, the Duchess of Blacktower, had also been sitting in the audience d made those making the decision feel a trifle bit of, well, pressure.

None of that had been Phillipa's intention, of course.

Her desire was to see justice done.

But in their country, a duke and a duchess being present did certainly have an effect. And the truth was she had been defending herself. She had not murdered Captain Adams. Not by any means.

If anything, she'd prevented Captain Adams from murdering herself or Grey or Clara. So she felt rather vindicated when the case was closed without any recommendation to go to trial.     She had been nervous, of course. Who wouldn't be? One could never know the outcome of these things for certain, after all.

But now, almost four months later? She felt light, buoyed with hope.

And the fact of the matter was that she was glad to have it entirely behind her.

With as much justice done as possible.

Phillipa was also glad to be married and mistress of Anthony’s castle.

Who would have thought that a quick marriage to the duke of her dreams would be so simple, so quick, and so thoroughly delightful.

It had been a small wedding with just her sister and her brother-in-law, and, of course, Clara and Merrill were present. A breakfast had occurred after, and a small house party where they had spoken a great deal, drank much wine, and listened to music for hours upon hours.

It turned out that Merrill was a most excellent pianist, and her husband had a very fine tenor. The two regaled the company with some positively shocking shanties!

Joe’s arrival from France had also been a remarkable thing. She hadn't been quite certain what to expect from the young man, and he was now becoming a young man, for he was certainly older than ten and his eyes bespoke an array of knowledge that no boy should know.

There was no questioning the fact that Joe was a remarkable fellow.

His voice was bright and full of enthusiasm.  His russet hair glinted in the sun with bits of gold, and it never smoothed, the coils dancing wildly in the Cornish wind.

His