“Care about my safety? Care about me shaming you, that’s what you mean,” Lulu said, finally wrenching her arm from his grip. “I saw you, with Mr. Gillingham!”

  She had not thought to say the words here, in a dank alley, but she could wait no longer. What had Samuel been doing, consorting with such ruffians?

  Samuel’s eyes softened. “Yes, you saw.”

  “I-I did,” Lulu said, hating her voice shook at that moment. “How long have you been seeing them? Have you worked together—what is going on?”

  There was a desperate edge to her voice she could not control. Lulu did not understand, her mind overswept with confusion and longing.

  Longing for things to be right between her and Samuel again.

  They’d had moments of true happiness, true joy, but she had laid the foundations for their destruction long before she had even met him.

  Samuel took a deep breath. “I wish you would trust me, Lulu.”

  “How can I?” she asked, blinking back tears. “When I myself am so untrustworthy.”

  “Damn it—”

  Lulu gasped. Samuel crushed his lips to hers, hands pulling her into a rough embrace.

  The kiss was unexpected, but so too was the genuine fervor of his affection. Try as she might, Lulu could not resist. She had craved him—and been pained by the lack of his touch—the moment the truth had slipped from her lips, the moment he realized she was the traitor he had been looking for.

  The moment she had known herself separated, irrevocably, from him forever.

  Lulu clung to him, parting her lips and deepening the kiss. She knew this would be their last, knew she would have this as her parting memory. So she poured into it all her hopes never to be realized, all her dreams which she’d never see, and her deep affection for the man who had loved her, even if imperfectly.

  When the kiss finally ended, she expected Samuel to pull away—but he kept her in his arms and instead pressed his forehead against hers.

  “I met with Mr. Gillingham today,” he said in a jagged voice. “And paid your debt.”

  Lulu could not take in the words. She was too overcome by his scent, his warm hands around her, the blazing heat of his kiss still tingling on her lips.

  “Lulu, I paid your debt,” Samuel repeated quietly, his forehead still pressed against hers. “You don’t have to live under the pain of that blackmail anymore. You . . . you’re free.”

  It could not be true. Lulu had dreamt of the moment when she would be free of Mr. Gregory and Mr. Gillingham’s power for months. The weight of the two pounds she had so carefully collected was heavy on her arm in her reticule.

  “You . . . you paid them?” Lulu breathed. “But . . . you were so angry with me—”

  “I think I was more angry at myself,” Samuel said in a low, rueful voice. “Angry I hadn’t seen the danger you were in. Angry you’d had to face that challenge alone. Angry you . . . you had not felt able to tell me. That you hadn’t come to me.”

  Lulu swallowed, confusion and pain mingling in her heart but softened by hope.

  Was it possible—could it be true?

  “So . . . so you aren’t angry at me?” she repeated. “With my sharing secrets, with—”

  “Do I wish it hadn’t happened? Of course,” Samuel said with a dry chuckle. His breath was warm on her face. “But am I going to hold you accountable for things you did, decisions you made before we even met?” He stole a brief but searing kiss. “No.”

  Lulu sagged in his arms, the burden of the last few years finally lifted. She did not have to live in fear. She was free—more than that, she had a husband by her side who had heard the very worst of her and was still here.

  “I do love you,” she began.

  Samuel snorted a gentle laugh. “I should think so!”

  Lulu tapped him on the arm. “Not because of what you’ve done! Grateful as I am, it is because you have forgiven me, loved me, want to keep choosing to love me, that I love you. You . . . you’re everything to me, Samuel.”

  “And you’re everything to me,” Samuel whispered, his grip tightening. “Lulu, I’ve spent my whole life being curious about the world, about people, but you have made me curious about myself. About the sort of man I want to be—the sort of husband I could be. And I’ll never stop striving to be better, to give you better.”

  “Well in that case, you may wish to prepare yourself for a scandal,” murmured Lulu, excitement rushing through her heart.

  She almost laughed as she saw Samuel’s eyes widen. “Dear God, what now?”

  “Well, if I am not very much mistaken,” she said quietly, grinning and not taking her gaze from his as her hand crept down to the growing bulge in his breeches. “We are about to explore what better ways we could get to know each other right here . . .”

  Chapter Nineteen

  13 May 1811

  “Ready?”

  Samuel could hardly keep the excitement from his voice. Every syllable seemed to quiver with it. The hope she would be impressed. The knowledge she would be, merely to please him. His pleasure in her wanting to please him . . .

  Was this how all marriages were? Did everyone experience this shared excitement and terror that one’s spouse may one day be sad? Did everyone battle against their instincts to solve every problem for their beloved, protect them from all harm, keep them safe and happy? Surely he could not be the only one.

  “As ready as I will ever be,” said Lulu dryly with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You know, I cannot believe we came all this way for this!”

  Samuel swallowed his anticipation. “You do not wish to visit the homes of the fabulously wealthy?”

  Lulu rolled her eyes. “I just don’t understand why we had to apply to the housekeeper. You’re a duke!”

  “You’re a duchess,” he pointed out, clambering down from the carriage and offering a hand.

  “Exactly!” Lulu said, her cheeks pinking at the reminder of her new status. “You’d think, wouldn’t you, we would be receiving an invitation rather than asking . . . my goodness.”

  “My goodness” was about right, in Samuel’s estimation. He had always been impressed by the visage of Brierwell Hall. The towering spires, the way the place simultaneously loomed and was welcoming. Perhaps it was the gray weathered stone. Perhaps it was the warm windows, dazzling in the late afternoon sun, which gave the place a glow.

  Whatever it was, he had never received anything but a warm welcome at Brierwell Hall.

  “I have always wanted to visit the homes of the good and the great,” Lulu said, shyly as she peered up at the Hall. “I mean, this is your world. A world you grew up in, but for me . . .”

  Her voice trailed away. Samuel’s chest swelled with pride. It was all going perfectly.

  “When you said that you wanted to take me on an excursion, I could not have imagined this,” said Lulu in a stronger voice. “I mean, the gardens alone look magnificent!”

  They were indeed, and Samuel saw no need to argue with her. The gardens were immaculate: elegantly trimmed hedges with yew trees flanking the main gates, an avenue of oaks they had already driven down, and here by the house, early roses.

  “Well, whoever lives here is certainly fortunate,” Lulu said, slipping her hand into Samuel’s arm. “Who did you say it was again?”

  Samuel swallowed. Deception was all par for the course when working for the Crown, but he rarely kept anything important a secret from those he truly cared about and respected.

  Still. It would be worth it.

  “I didn’t,” he said airily. “A nobleman, he’s rarely here.”

  Lulu snorted as she stepped forward, her eagerness tugging on his arm. “More fool him, I say. He truly must be a dullard if he willingly chooses to leave this magnificence.”

  “Yes, I suppose he is,” Samuel said quietly under his breath as they stepped up the sweep of stairs to the front door. “A complete dullard.”

  “Though I suppose if you grew up here, saw it every day,” Lulu said, evidently attempting to be fair to the unnamed gentleman she was happily critiquing, “I would guess he doesn’t see . . . doesn’t see . . . How could anyone leave this?”

  Her head was tilted back as she attempted to take in the splendor of the place.

  Samuel mimicked her. She was right. How could anyone leave this?

  The ceiling was covered by a striking painting of the gods of the Greek pantheon. There was Poseidon in the sea, Hera, Hestia and Demeter, Hades in the depths of hell, Zeus in the clouds. The whole piece was finished off by a frame of gold, glittering in the afternoon sun.

  Lulu breathed out slowly. “And this is just his entrance hall!”

  “Oh, I believe many people with houses this large put much of their money in the entrance hall,” Samuel said as calmly as he could manage. “Designed to impress, you know. That way, anyone who merely visits the hall and perhaps the drawing room can go away singing the praises of the house without seeing—”

  “The dusty corridors and the damp bedchambers?” quipped Lulu with a smile. “No, you cannot convince me the rest of this place does not live up to this.”

  She continued gazing around in evident wonder.

  Warmth suffused Samuel’s heart. It had been a gamble. An idea he would not have conceived of unless he had met someone like Lulu. Someone who adored intrigue, and a mite of danger. But most of all, wanted to be loved.

  “Where to next?”

  Samuel blinked. Lulu was looking expectant. “Well, I suppose we just wander . . .”

  So wander they did. Though his wife did mention a few times that she found it strange the housekeeper had not come out to guide them, she and Samuel made the best of it.

  They found not one, but two drawing rooms, one on the east side of the house to catch the winter sun and one on the west side to keep cool in summer.

  “Such extravagance!” laughed Lulu, trailing a finger along a console table made of marble. “Do you think they have a different bedchamber for each month of the year?”

  Samuel swallowed his answer. She would not believe him.

  After that they found the dining room, a resplendent room mainly in red, with velvet on the floor, silk on the walls, and gold gilt again on the ceiling.

  “It’s as though they had a goldmine and didn’t know what to do with it.”

  Samuel bit his lip and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  It was when they stepped into the Orangery, however, that Lulu truly started to gush. “Look at these trees! How do they do it, I wonder? I’ve never seen an orange before, do you think they—”

  “Never seen an orange before?” Samuel interrupted, incredulous.

  It was astonishing to hear—and yet, perhaps not.

  Lulu had a wry smile. “Sometimes you forget, I think, just how easy it is to live when one is poor. You have to sacrifice the essentials of course, like oranges—”

  Samuel snorted.

  His wife was grinning. “But we get by. Come now, Samuel. You aren’t impressed? You have barely said two words of praise for this place, and I’m sure you’ve never seen better!”

  Samuel’s stomach lurched. Standing as she was, gesturing at the plants around her, Lulu presented a picture of perfection.

  The white of the limestone floor. The terracotta pots, bursting with life as the dark green leaves and the orange of the fruit seemed to grow right before his eyes. Lulu, standing between them. Her gold and black piped gown—his favorite—fit perfectly.

  “I have truly never seen better,” he said honestly.

  She caught his meaning—at least, she appeared to. Pink dots appeared in Lulu’s cheeks. “I meant the house.”

  “So did I,” Samuel quipped. “I cannot possibly fathom what else you think I could have meant.”

  Lulu’s teasing smile made his heart skip a beat. This had been a good idea, then. After all, she had not—

  “Admit it, this place is far finer than anything you have ever lived in,” said Lulu with a mischievous grin, turning away and peering into an orange tree.

  “I think I would say that I grew up in a place just as nice as this,” Samuel said honestly.

  His heart was beating faster. Had it been a mistake? Had he overplayed his hand? Would Lulu appreciate the jest, or would she perhaps find it underhanded? His shoulders tightened, just for a moment. The last thing he wanted was for Lulu to feel as though there were others plotting around her. Perhaps this was a mistake. They could leave now, he would never have to explain—

  “Surely not!” Lulu protested, turning to fix him with a stern air. “As nice as this?”

  “Exactly as nice as this,” said Samuel softly with a wry smile.

  “Exactly as . . .” Lulu’s voice faded as her eyes widened. “Samuel Dellamore, is this your house?”

  “Maybe?” shrugged Samuel with a wide grin, shoulders relaxing as he saw astonishment, not hurt, in Lulu’s face.

  “But—but—I’ve been going around it praising it to the hilt!” spluttered Lulu with a laugh. “You said you had to apply to the housekeeper—”

  “Of course I did!” Samuel stepped forward and lowered his voice into a mock whisper. “You think I would dare come to my own Scottish residence without the approval of Mrs. Winder? The audacity!”

  Their laughter filled the Orangery and Samuel knew he would never be happier than this. How could he be? This was everything he wanted. No, it was more than that. He had never known he wished for such a connection, for a bride. A wife! A woman by his side at almost all moments, someone who understood him and yet was willing to learn.

  His affection soared through him. He would never find someone else like Lulu, and he knew it. All he had to do now was prove himself to her. Every day.

  “You are an absolute cad,” said Lulu, tapping him lightly on the arm but grinning all the while. “I can’t believe you almost made a complete fool of me!”

  “I am just relieved you like the place,” Samuel teased. “Imagine what I would have done if you had stepped out of that carriage and pronounced the place unpleasant!”

  Lulu groaned as he laughed harder. “You cocksure rogue!”

  “Guilty as charged,” he admitted freely as they strode to a sofa placed near the glass wall of the Orangery. “Does this mean, however, that you have forgiven me?”

  “Hmmm,” considered Lulu as she sat, curling into his arm. “I will think about it.”

  Samuel’s heart swelled.

  It had been a gamble, but he could think of no better way to introduce Lulu to his Scottish home—their Scottish home—than this. Brierwell Hall. If she had truly not liked it, well, that was no matter. They had plenty of other homes. One of those would do.

  But he needed to know her true opinion, without her judgment being clouded by trying to please him. That was the greatest difficulty at the moment. The pair were so eager each to make the other happy, it was starting to become impossible to know if they were giving true opinions or just saying what they thought the other wanted to hear.

  That would fade, Samuel was sure. But this was a swift way to make sure.

  “I cannot believe it.” Lulu’s voice was so soft, he almost missed her words.

  Kissing her head, he murmured, “Cannot believe what?”

  “This,” she said, squeezing his hand. “You. Me. This place.”

  “I admit, I can hardly believe that I have you.”

  Her disbelief in his words not in a verbal reply, but in the way she scoffed.

  “I mean it!” Samuel protested with a laugh. “I have shown you jewels, and gold gilt ceilings, and diamond chandeliers, and Rembrandts—”

  “What’s a Rembrandt?”

  “—and not even the whole place combined is more precious than you,” Samuel said with a wry smile. There would be time for art history later. This moment, this was important. “I hope you believe that, Lulu—or that you can believe it in time.”

  His wife tilted her head to meet his eye, and he saw within it a desperate wish to believe it was true. Perhaps that was enough for now.

  “I just can’t believe you have forgiven me,” Lulu whispered. “I know you have, but . . . it doesn’t seem real.”

  Samuel’s gut lurched.

  That was the one dark spot in their past. The blackmail. The letter he had paid a hefty three pounds to procure. The treachery Lulu had entered into, just to keep the publication of her brother’s letter at bay.

  She had done much for him, this Malcolm. Many sisters would only do half as much for their brother if he lived, let alone to protect the memory of one who was gone.

  And she had suffered. Samuel could see that—had seen it in the way Lulu had lived. Even saving her pennies to the point of poverty, she had not had sufficient funds to buy her way out of trouble. So she had been forced to . . . well.

  Samuel sighed. “If I had been paying attention, I would have spotted the signs.”

  Lulu wrinkled her nose. “The signs?”

  He shrugged. “I am a servant of the Crown, I have seen them countless times. Your association with ruffians, your appearance in places like the McBarland’s gaming hell—”

  “Yes, I was surprised I was able to distract you from that,” she murmured.

  Samuel’s loins warmed at the mere memory of Lulu in that place. He had not noticed then, as he did now, just how swiftly he had been distracted by Lulu’s presence. To his own detriment, in the short term.

  “If I had put the clues together, I would have realized you were unwillingly tangled up in all this,” Samuel said. “I would have been able to speak to you, help you—”

  “I probably would have lied,” Lulu said ruefully.

  Samuel raised an eyebrow. “You would?”

  “I did not know if I could trust you or not!” she pointed out with raised eyebrows. “You think I had gone that long without considering taking someone else into my confidence?”

  It was a fair point, and not one Samuel had considered.

  “No, I knew anyone I confided in would be just as much at risk as I was,” Lulu was saying. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t risk . . . you were important.”

  Samuel swallowed. “Even then?”