Page 123 of A Convenient Fiction

Laura cast him a reproving glance. “My husband won’t permit me to sing his praises.”

“You can be no worse than Tom’s wife,” Justin replied. “Always telling us how brilliant he is.”

Tom gave a rueful grimace. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Laura.” Neville’s blush deepened. “You’re not afraid of dogs, are you?”

“I love them. And cats, too. Do you have any at the Abbey?”

“Not cats. We have two dogs. Paul and Jonesy.”

“The hounds of hell,” Tom said under his breath.

Justin laughed. “They only look that way if some villain is trying to creep onto the property. Speaking of which…” He cast a pointed look at the driving rain. “We’d better hurry before the road to the Abbey washes out.”

Alex waited with Laura on the platform while Justin went to summon his coachman to bring the carriage round. Tom and Neville followed to see to the loading of their bags.

“No need for us all to get wet,” Tom said.

Laura watched them go.

Alex slid his hand around her waist, drawing her close against him. “You were wrong, you know.”

She looked up at him, startled. “Was I? About what?”

“You said I rescued you. That I saved your life.”

Her brows knit. “But…you did.”

“No,” Alex said. “It was you who saved me.”

“Oh.” Her mouth trembled. “What a lovely thing to say.”

“I mean it. I don’t know where I’d be if I hadn’t blundered into that clearing in the woods and seen you floating in Talbot’s Pond.”

“You said I looked like a demented Ophelia.”

He remembered. He’d been wet and irritated, and smitten to his core. “You looked like a water nymph. An enchanted princess.” He bent his head to hers. “Like the lady I was going to marry, and love the rest of my life.”

“And you looked like a hero,” she said. “My hero. Though I may not have recognized it at the time.”

“A great lummox, you called me.”

She laughed softly. “Did I?”

“Yes, minx.” He held her close, shielding her from the rain and the cold. Keeping her safe in his arms. “And it wasn’t the last set down you administered during my time in Lower Hawley.”

“I hope I’ve made up for it.”

“You have. Countless times.” His words took on a serious edge. “Thank you for coming here with me. I know it’s damp and rainy and miserable. Nothing like the South of France. But I—”

“Hush.” She snuggled against him. “I don’t mind it, truly. Not the rain or the sleet or the cold. As long as we’re together.”

“We will be,” he promised. “Until I draw my last breath.”

And they were.