Page 33 of Once a Scoundrel

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to. I said Iwouldn’tmarry him.” She lifted her face and swiped her hand at her eyes. Leave it to Papa to come down on the side of propriety and Mama to come down on the side of love. But who was on her side?

“Oh, Faith.” With a frown of concern, her mother came to her and cupped her face in her hands. She placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured, “It’s all so terrible, isn’t it, how we can’t control our hearts?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, unable to speak for fear of loosening a flood of uncontrollable sobs.

Mama wiped tenderly at her tear-streaked cheeks. “There’s simply no controlling who we love, is there? We always fall for the worst people in the world.”

From across the room, Papa cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean you, darling,” she clarified over her shoulder.

His lips twisted wryly. “Of course not.”

Faith’s heart tugged for her parents. They truly loved each other, as deeply now as they did the day they wed. Theirs was the sort of marriage she wanted. A true love match in every way, one in which she could always trust her husband to love and care for her and their children, to always be there for her. She would never settle for less. And she simply couldn’t be certain that Stephen was that man.

“Why don’t you go to your room now and try to sleep?” her mother said gently. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Faith shook her head. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”

“So be it,” Mama said gently. “In the morning, then, we’ll talk about how there’s nothing more to discuss.”

Her shoulders sagged. Her mother was only trying to help, but she knew what her parents didn’t—she would never change her mind and marry Stephen.

“Good night.” She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, then dutifully crossed the room to place a kiss on Papa’s. But he stiffened as she did so, and she knew it would be a long time before she regained his trust.

Faith silently left the room.

The door closed, and Edward Westover blew out a harsh breath as he leaned over his desk on his hands. “Dunwich,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “Of all the men for Faith to fall in love with...him.”

With a soft smile, Kate returned to his side and ran her hands soothingly over his shoulders, kneading the tightly knotted muscles. “And she does love him, you know. It’s obvious in every inch of her.”

“That’s what frightens me.” He grimaced. “But does he love her?”

“Of course he does. The way he looked at her when they danced, the way he spoke to her just now...” She smiled knowingly. “And if he’s willing to stand up to you like that, then he must be in love.” She placed a kiss against his cheek and said softly, “It’s the tough soldiers who always fall the hardest. Trust me, I know.”

His dubious expression melted into exasperation. He sank down into his chair and tugged her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her. “She’s challenging, independent...selfless to a fault.”

Kate smiled. “Would you have wanted her to be any other way?”

Conceding that his wife was right, he answered instead, “She’s never defied us before. That’s his influence on her.”

“No, darling. That’syourinfluence.” Kate ran her fingertips lovingly through the gray hair at his temple. “Independent, strong, stubborn...She is her father’s daughter.” She traced her fingertip along his jaw, enjoying the scratch of midnight stubble. “But she’ll marry him, I have no doubt.” She crooked a brow. “Of course, she’ll also make him grovel for embarrassing her by letting them get caught.”

He gave a low chortle. “Did you see the way he jumped when we found them? The look on his face—”

“The look onyours!” Kate countered, laughing as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck.

She closed her eyes and let the warmth and strength of his arms seep into her, along with the love he carried for her and the passion they still shared, even after two and half decades of marriage and five children. What she wished most for all her children was a marriage as wonderful as the one she shared with Edward.

His laughter faded, and he commented grimly, “He’s not good enough for her.”

“Darling,” she reminded him patiently, “he was born a marquess.”

Then she kissed him before he could say anything more.