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  Gwyneth watched as the earl looked about him and saw all the tenants and villagers who now gathered in the courtyard staring angrily at him. But when she saw a cold light suddenly gleam in the old man’s eyes, she felt a renewed sense of fear.

  “You’ll not spill your lies to the queen, Blackwell,” he said. “There are family matters between you and me where Her Majesty can do nothing. Gwyneth, if you let him slander us, you will have doomed your sisters to lives of spinsterhood. No one will marry them after we spread certain…rumors.”

  Though Gwyneth’s stomach was in knots, she lifted her chin and spoke strongly. “You mean like the rumors you spread about your own daughter being murdered? You cannot hurt me or my family any more. I trust my husband to do what is best for us.”

  She could tell that her cousin was desperate now.

  “There is still the marriage contract, which is legally binding. The land will be ours again when you cannot produce an heir.”

  Gwyneth’s mother stepped forward. “What nonsense is this?”

  Gwyneth smiled. “I can handle this, Mama.” Putting her fists on her hips, she turned her anger on the Langstons. “I have already begun work on your contract. I carry Edmund’s child, and I can assure you that no matter how many times we have to try, we will have a boy.”

  When she felt an arm come about her shoulders, she looked up into the smiling blue eyes of her husband, who watched her with tenderness.

  “It will be a difficult duty,” he said seriously, “but I shall manage.”

  Gwyneth knew that the people in the courtyard had erupted into cheers, but she only had eyes for her husband, whose expression had sobered as he cupped her face in his hands.

  “It will be easy because I love her,” he said softly, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that fell from her eyes. “Even this land is not as important to me as you are, Gwyn. I would gladly lose it all if you’ll stay with me.”

  “Oh, Edmund,” she whispered, overwhelmed that her every dream of happiness had come true.

  “A foolish sentiment,” the earl said scornfully, “because now I’ll—”

  “Enough!” Harold Langston pushed his way through the crowd. He stopped before his parents and gave them a scornful look. “I am ashamed to be a part of this family. All of this was because you could not deal with the truth about what kind of a woman your daughter—my sister—was. She made Edmund miserable with her selfish ways, and you helped her do it. She will not rest in peace until the truth is known.”

  “Harold!” his father said sharply.

  But Harold only put up a hand. “She killed herself out of vanity, Father, trying to be a different person than she was. What does that say to you about what you’ve done to your children? I never knew that good people existed until I came here.”

  The countess started to sob, but he ignored her. “Now there are no more secrets unspoken and no reason to torment people who have done nothing to harm you. As for this land, you already have more than you will ever need. Why don’t you just go home and leave us in peace?”

  “Harold,” his mother said weakly, “come home with us. Let me tell you what really happened.”

  Her son only shook his head. “Save your speeches for your other son, although I am not sure he’ll believe you either. You’ll have to arrive home before my letter reaches him.”

  The earl gripped his wife’s arm and hauled her off the bench. Gwyneth was worried that the crowd might do them harm, but the villagers stepped aside and let them return to the courtyard, where Lord Langston shouted for his coach.

  When everyone had left the lady’s garden, Gwyneth and Edmund remained still, staring at each other. They both began to smile.

  “So what will you do if the Langstons develop a new scheme against us?” she asked.

  He gripped her waist and drew her against him. “I honestly have no proof of their crimes except Lucy’s word.”

  “And Hugh’s.”

  “Hugh?” he echoed, puzzled.

  “Lucy seduced him into doing her bidding, then they fell in love. When they realized they wanted to get out from under the earl’s control, they came to me first.”

  He frowned and opened his mouth, which she quickly covered. “I told you that I only found out this morn. I was looking for a moment to explain everything, but the Langstons arrived. Then this plan occurred to me.” She let her fingers slide down his cheek. “You will not punish Lucy and Hugh, will you? Lucy only acted out of fear for her family and her life.”

  “And what is Hugh’s excuse?”

  “Love—and immature anger, perhaps. He regrets what they did.”

  “I am certain that I can find a very difficult way for him to make it up to me.”

  “As long as you allow them to marry.”

  “Hmm.”

  She smiled brightly. “I do have more proof against the Langstons.” From beneath the girdle at her waist, she drew out a folded paper and handed it to him. “’Tis a letter they sent to Lucy. She saved it. They were foolish enough to say an incriminating thing or two.”

  He stared down at the paper, then shook his head and grinned.

  “Edmund, ’tis time to let all this go,” she said softly, pressing herself against him. “You have nothing to prove to anyone. You are more worthy of love and respect than any man I’ve ever known.”

  “I have made so many mistakes, Gwyn. I know not how to make our marriage work, but I want to try.”

  He touched her stomach, and she held his hand there.

  “I do not know if this will be a son,” she whispered. “Will you love our daughters just as much?”

  He cupped her face between his large, warm hands. His eyes, once so fierce and cold, were a warm, pure blue. “Such an easy thing to do, when they’re sure to take after their mother. ’Tis the start of a new year, the start of our life together. Will you let me show you how much I love you?”

  “Yes, please do.”

  Their kiss was warm and loving and full of a lifetime of promises.

  “Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered.

  Epilogue

  When Mrs. Haskell announced a visit from Geoffrey Drake, Edmund rose from the table in the winter parlor and shook his friend’s hand. It had been many months since he’d last seen Geoff in London.

  “Edmund, congratulations on the birth of your son.”

  Edmund smiled and nodded. “My thanks. Come sit down. I am sure Mrs. Haskell went to inform Gwyn of your arrival.”

  Geoff took a seat across from him and accepted a tankard of ale. “You must finally be at peace in regard to the troublesome Lord Langston.”

  “I was never worried about it. The estate and the lead mine have succeeded so well that I could have offered him a price to leave us alone.”

  “Especially with the persuasion of that letter they’d sent to Lucy. You’ve taken good care of it, I presume.”

  Edmund grinned. “Naturally.”

  The door opened, and Gwyneth walked in, carrying their new baby at her shoulder, followed by their four daughters. The girls raced each other to climb into his lap and onto his shoulders, arguing over whose turn it was to hold the baby. He exchanged smiles with his wife, deeply grateful for the love they shared and the life she’d given him.

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  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  HIS BRIDE. Copyright © 2002 by Gayle Callen. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  Microsoft Reader April 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-194474-1

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