She bit her lip—and he knew that is exactly what had crossed her mind.

  “I do love you,” he insisted. “Only something has come up that changes everything.”

  “If you truly love me, nothing could change that,” she said, her voice strained. She pulled her hand from his.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “This is coming out all wrong,” he complained. “Yes, I do love you. No, my feelings remain constant. But something has happened that might alter the path we are on. Transform it into something neither of us expected.”

  She frowned. “You are speaking in riddles, Devin.”

  He took both her hands in his and squeezed them. “I will explain everything tonight. Will you meet me in the gardens after dinner?”

  “I suppose I will have to in order to understand.” Her voice was strained.

  His gaze met hers. “I do love you, Julia. And I need you now. More than ever.”

  Devin released her hands. “Until tonight.”

  She nodded and left him. An uneasiness settled over him. He didn’t want things to change between them. He certainly didn’t want this new responsibility.

  Devin prayed Julia would understand and help him see what he should do.

  Chapter Twenty

  Worry filled Julia for the remainder of the day. She had awakened euphoric, finding it hard to believe that, as a governess, she had actually found love. That a good man wished to wed her.

  Doubts plagued her now. Though Devin had reassured her he was no rogue, a small part of her didn’t believe him. She had trusted Devin, giving all of herself to him.

  Had that been a mistake?

  She didn’t want to think so. She had prided herself on being a good judge of character. Yet from the moment she had met him, Devin Hunt had made her heart palpitate and her belly flutter. He was so large and masculine and made her feel utterly feminine. Had she misread him? Uncertainty rippled through her.

  At least he had not spilled his seed inside her. If she had made an enormous mistake by giving her virginity to him, at least no babe would result. She prayed he wasn’t being fickle or cruel. That he truly did love her. For if he didn’t, Julia didn’t know how she would go on living.

  She thought her day with her pupils would never end. Normally, she enjoyed their company and was charmed by their questions. Today, however, the minutes seemed to go by too slowly. She dreaded their questions. All she wanted was for them to be in bed and her free to meet Devin and get to the bottom of what ailed him.

  She wondered if it had to do with his brother. Julia only knew they were estranged from the little Devin had said. He had no living parents. He didn’t mention any friends other than His Grace and Lord Kingston. He had said he was going to accept His Grace’s offer to act as Woodbridge’s steward. Julia had pictured them in Mr. Kepler’s cottage, a place that went along with the position. She knew the estate manager was retiring to a different cottage on Woodbridge grounds and so she had imagined Devin and her living there. Once the boys went to school, she could assist him full-time. And when she had children, he would come home to her and their babes at the cottage.

  If he truly wanted to wed her. Oh, why was this day taking so long?

  Finally, her pupils had shed their clothes and dressed in their nightclothes. Oftentimes, Their Graces would come and tuck the boys in before sleep but they did not appear tonight. Julia wondered if they were closeted with Devin, trying to talk him out of marrying a lowly governess. After all, they were his friends and would have his best interests at heart. Devin was the son of a marquess and a war hero. Their Graces might think he could do far better than Julia Birmingham.

  She kissed each boy goodnight and doused the candle on the bedstand between them before closing the door and returning to her own room. Sara arrived with Julia’s dinner tray and she thanked the servant, knowing she wouldn’t be able to eat much because of the nerves flitting through her. She did manage to get a few bites down and then left the tray outside her door. That would signal to Sara that Julia had decided to take a walk in the gardens or she had gone to the library in search of something new to read.

  Arriving at the entrance to the gardens, she lit a lantern and moved along the path, deciding to stop at the bench where Devin had kissed her. A sweet rush of memories filled her as she thought about those magical kisses. She twisted her hands in her lap, unhappiness filling her. She tried to push it aside, telling herself that she was making a mountain out of a molehill. That Devin did love her. That they would be together.

  She spied a light from the distance and knew he now moved through the gardens toward her. She swallowed, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm her beating heart.

  Then he appeared. She could read the anxiety that filled him, from his creased brow to his posture.

  What had changed in the space of a few hours?

  Julia rose as he came toward her. He set the lantern on the ground and though shadows surrounded them, she could see one thing in his eyes.

  Love. For her. Despite whatever troubled him, that hadn’t changed.

  She flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest, tears unexpectedly falling. He smoothed her hair and kissed it before lifting her chin. Their gazes met and he lowered his lips to hers.

  The kiss was perfect. Tender. Reassuring. Sweet.

  He broke it. “We should sit.”

  There it was again, the anxiety. Julia decided to meet it head on.

  “What is wrong, Devin? You said things have changed. How so?”

  “I am the Marquess of Bedford.”

  His words stunned her. They made no sense.

  “I thought you just said . . . that you were . . . the Marquess of Bedford.”

  “Because I did.” He framed her face with his hands. “I now hold the title.”

  “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  He kissed her again and, for a moment, all her worries melted. She lost herself in his kiss. His taste. His scent.

  Pulling away, he dropped his hands from her face and capture hers in his. “I read about my brother’s death in a newspaper. Apparently, Win has them brought to Woodbridge with other correspondence that arrives at his London townhouse.”

  “It was his obituary?” she asked, starting to understand a bit of his apprehension.

  “Yes. It said he had experienced a tragic fall, which injured his brain. I suppose he hit his head. I have no doubt that Prentis was inebriated. If he didn’t have a drink in his hand and wasn’t gambling or whoring, he wasn’t happy. The article mentioned that he lingered for two months after the fall, never regaining consciousness.”

  “How terrible.”

  “We had not spoken in many years, much less corresponded. The obituary stated that he had not wed and that his title would now go to his brother.” He shrugged. “Me.”

  She smiled tentatively. “Well, wouldn’t this be good news?”

  “It is terrible news,” he said vehemently. “I wasn’t raised to be a marquess. I have no idea what to do. And look at me, Julia.”

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “First, my father was an awful man. And he treated me horribly in front of others, including servants and tenants on the estate. They already have a terrible opinion of me. He constantly berated me when he did not ignore me. They will remember that and have no respect for me.” He hesitated. “Besides, you know I am maimed.” He held up his hand.

  She snorted. “You think you will not have the respect of your people because you are missing a couple of fingers? And that they heard a despicable man castigate an innocent boy?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Devin. Respect is earned—and you will need to do so with your people. They will not disrespect you because of your physical appearance. They will judge you on what you do for them. How you treat others.”

  “You’re giving them too much credit.”

  Anger filled her. “And you’re bloody well not giving them enough.” She took his face in her hands. “You are bitter because of what happened to you. You did the right thing bringing up a man on charges and he lashed out at you. Yes, he scarred you. But you do not have to carry those scars. Swallow your bitterness, Devin. Get over it. Do not let what that soldier did rule your life. Pull yourself together. Take control of your life.”

  When he stared at her, she dropped her hands. “You would never make it as a woman, my lord. Especially if you had been treated as I have. My core is formed from steel because I have had to will it to become so. I was an adored, pampered daughter who had every bit of my parents’ attention, especially my father’s. On his deathbed, he made Rodney promise to take care of Mama and me. My half-brother lied by omission. He told Papa he would do right by us.”

  Julia stood, wrapping her arms about her. “Though Mama had been married to Papa for twenty years, my half-brother did not consider us family, even after all that time. After Papa’s funeral, Tilton ordered us from our home, telling us he would prefer we go to hell—but that we should make our way to London and find a way to earn our keep. He kept my dowry, saying he would only give it to me if I wed a man of his choice. Since I would be working as a servant, he would never approve of any man I brought to him, so he has had what was meant for me and my husband all these years.”

  She began pacing. “Mama was deeply in love with Papa. She couldn’t bear the thought of a life without the man she loved, much less spending the rest of her life waiting on others.” She swallowed painfully. “She killed herself that night. I had to bury not one beloved parent—but two—in a matter of days.”

  Suddenly, he was there, his arms around her, comforting her as she sobbed. Julia had not cried like this in years, not even when she had discovered her mother’s cold, lifeless body. She had not wanted Rodney to think her weak as she negotiated to have Mama buried beside Papa. But now the dam broke. All those pent-up emotions she had pushed down so deeply, thinking they were gone and forgotten, now emerged. Her tears were ones of rage. Of sorrow. Of regret. Of sadness.

  And she had Devin with her, talking to her in soothing tones, saying things she couldn’t truly comprehend. She only knew his arms protected her. His hands stroked her back to console and reassure her.

  Finally, the maelstrom subsided. She raised her gaze to his.

  “I am sorry, love,” he told her. “You are right. Women do suffer more. Put up with more. You have been through far greater trials than I could ever have faced, and you have done it with grace and courage. I am whining about becoming a privileged marquess. You lost both your beloved parents and have made your way in the world on your own, never complaining about the cards life has dealt to you.”

  Devin kissed her softly. “Can you forgive me for being selfish? For worrying about things that I never should have? I can do anything, Julia, if you are by my side. You will be my marchioness and shine in the ton.”

  The thought of being a marchioness frightened her beyond words. She had been exiled from Polite Society, thanks to her half-brother. She didn’t think she could ever become a part of it again. She had agreed to marry a former army officer and live a quiet life on a beautiful estate, not a marquess who would hold a lofty position in the ton merely because of his title. She couldn’t go back to an empty life, where a woman only thought of the gown she would wear at the next ball. She had made a life for herself, hard-won, one she lived on her own terms.

  Julia couldn’t marry Devin. Though she loved him, he needed a wife who would fit seamlessly into Polite Society. Once, she could have and had been eager to do so. Now, having been on her own for so long, her priorities had changed. Living among the ton and their idle lives no longer appealed to her.

  This man—this wonderful, sad, damaged man—had an exciting life ahead of him, though. He would be the marquess his brother never was. His people would come to love him. Devin needed a proper wife by his side, not some erstwhile governess the ladies of the ton would reject, especially once her half-brother spread the nasty rumors about her that she knew he would. She had no doubt she would be rejected—and that would include their children. She couldn’t doom Devin’s sons and daughters and make them outcasts because of her.

  Before she could tell him her decision, he said, “I cannot promise you it will be a bed of roses. In fact, I fear Prentis, profligate that he was, might have squandered a good deal of the family fortune. I will need to go to London and meet with the family solicitor in order to sort things out.”

  This was her out, one which he would come to understand.

  “Then you must wed a woman of means, Devin,” she told him, her heart heavy. “A lady of good name who comes with a substantial dowry. You are responsible now for your people. They must come first.”

  He looked confused. “What are you saying, Julia?”

  “That I cannot marry you.”

  Wishing she could kiss him a last time, Julia knew she couldn’t take the chance. She had the element of surprise on her side now and used it to her advantage, Whirling, she picked up one of the lanterns and took off through the gardens, away from the house—and Devin. She had walked these paths enough and knew them like the back of her own hand.

  Julia heard him calling to her and she doused the flame, creeping along in the darkness. He wouldn’t realize it now but she was actually doing him a favor. He could go to London. Claim his title. Wed a woman who would make for a suitable marchioness.

  But Julia would love Devin Hart for all her remaining days.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Devin had been so shocked by Julia’s words that he had watched her run from him without moving, as if his feet were made of lead. By the time he realized she was gone, he grabbed the remaining lantern and took after her, calling her name.

  Why had she rejected him? Had she never truly loved him? Or had he sown enough doubt in her that she no longer trusted him?

  He might never know.

  Julia was a very private person. She had bared her soul to him, sharing her story. He didn’t think she had done so with another soul. She did it to bolster him. To chastise him. He was behaving like a spoiled brat and she’d made him realize that. He had marched into battle countless numbers of time. Walking out to meet his tenants wouldn’t be a tenth as frightening.

  Unless the estate was truly in bad shape. If it were, then Julia was right. It was his duty to wed an heiress. His needs were secondary when compared to the large number of people who depended upon him. It was foolish to think he could hide away from Polite Society and not claim his title.

  He decided to go to London at once. Find out the state of affairs from Bradford Billman. Learn if he were wealthy, bankrupt, or somewhere in-between. Devin vowed no matter what his financial state, he would find a way to marry Julia. He couldn’t lose her. She was his very life. The answer to his empty soul. He would find a way to provide for his people with Julia by his side.

  Giving up his search, he returned the lantern to its resting place and went to the main house. He went to the drawing room, hoping to find Win and Sera there since they had headed that way after dinner. Unfortunately, they were nowhere in sight. Hating that he needed to bother them, he went to their suite of rooms and knocked.

  After a few minutes, Win answered, belting his banyan as he opened the door.

  “I am sorry to interrupt your evening, Win,” Devin began. “I must speak to you on a matter of some urgency.”

  “Come in,” his friend said, waving Devin inside. “You avoided talking about anything of substance at dinner this evening. Sera feared that things did not go well with Miss Birmingham last night and forbid me from bringing her up in conversation.”

  “It is more than Julia,” he said tersely.

  “Devin?” Sera said from the doorway, her auburn hair spilling about her shoulders to her waist. She wore a dressing gown. “What is wrong?”

  “Everything,” he said, tamping down the hopelessness that surged through him.

  “Shall I ring for coffee? Or perhaps tea?” she asked.

  “No. I would merely like to share some news with you and receive your counsel,” he replied.

  Sera padded barefoot to a settee and sat, her feet curled up beneath her. Win joined her, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Devin took a seat nearby.

  “I learned something today. No, I should start at yesterday,” he began. “I told Julia how I feel about her. That I loved her.”

  Sera smiled warmly. “How did our Miss Birmingham take that bit of news?”

  “Did you tell her before or after you kissed her?” Win teased.

  “We are engaged. Or we were,” he said, his voice dropping even as his spirits sank.

  “Oh, no!” Sera exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “The marquessate,” he responded. “I read in one of your newspapers this morning that my idiot brother fell. The obituary called it an accident but I know Prentis and surmise he was drunk. He apparently injured his head and lay comatose for months before succumbing to death.”

  “Then you are now the Marquess of Bedford,” Win said, awe in his voice. “This is marvelous news, Dev. Another Second Son to join our circle.”

  He had heard Win and Percy refer to the Second Sons, their group of friends who had all known one another at university and gone to war against Bonaparte together. One by one, each member of the group had returned to England to assume the title held by their older brother.

  “I don’t want to be a bloody Second Son!” he spat. “I want Julia.”

  “Did you tell her of your brother’s death?” Sera asked quietly. “Does she not wish to be a marchioness? She may worry how she would fit into Polite Society, Devin. I am certain you can work things out between you and quell her reluctance.”

  “I made an awful mistake,” he admitted. “I voiced that I did not know how I would find the estate. That Prentis was a wastrel and I could very well have inherited a title and a mound of debts.”

  Sera frowned. “But if she agreed to wed you when you were going to be a steward, why would she refuse to marry you when you are a marquess? Even if you don’t have much, you said she loved you.”