The butler cleared his throat. "Mr. Lucien Jonas," he announced. The ghost of a smile played about the normally unflappable butler's lips. He dipped a bow and then backed out of the room.

"Wh-what is the meaning of this?" the earl stammered. He retreated as Lucien advanced with slow, deliberate strides into the parlor.

The sight of him after all these weeks blotted out the humiliating, horrible things leveled at her by the earl. "L-Lucien," she whispered. Why is he here? Why, when he'd been so very clear that after his father's pa.s.sing he would return to the life he'd lived all these years without her?

Her brother-in-law found his brash arrogance. "Why are you here, sir?" He puffed his chest like a preening peac.o.c.k. "There is no room for a mere butler-"

"You'd be wise to not finish those words, either," Lucien intoned on a silken, steely whisper.

The color drained from the earl's cheeks. He found the courage, however to tug at his jacket and say, "I am the Earl of Sherborne and I'll not be spoken to in..."

Lucien continued striding forward and the lean bully of a man stumbled over himself in his haste to place the sofa between him and the threatening gentleman. Lucien stopped beside Eloise. He pa.s.sed that inscrutable, powerful stare over her face, the grays of his eyes dark like the summer sky after a tempestuous storm.

Then, with seeming reluctance, he shifted his focus back upon the earl. "You are to leave this home, Sherborne. And you are no longer to sully Eloise with your presence here. If you speak to her," he said, as he stepped around the mahogany piece between them and then closed the distance between him and her b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a brother-in-law. "If you so much as speak to her, I will demonstrate just how capable I am with one arm," He lowered his tone to the gravelly, harsh one that had initially terrified her upon their reunion at the marquess' home. "And I will make you regret whatever vile word you uttered." He leaned close. "Are we clear, Sherborne?"

The earl's cheeks turned ashen and in spite of the obvious quake to his slender frame, he managed a jerky nod.

Eloise's heart tripped several beats at his bold defense of her. She pressed her eyes closed a moment. She'd been on her own for so very long, she'd grown accustomed to relying on no one but herself. She opened her eyes once more and caressed Lucien with her gaze. For the first time in a long time, she was not alone. Joy swelled inside and a wave of emotion so strong slammed into her that she could not speak. Her throat worked painfully.

Lucien looked at Sherborne through eyes of impenetrable slits and then gave a belated nod. "You're done here." He stepped aside and her brother-in-law all but sprinted from the room. With his awkward gait, the earl knocked into a side table and then upended an ivory, open-backed armchair before scurrying from the room like a rat chased from Cook's kitchens.

Her shoulders sagged with relief at the man's exit. However, with his parting and the vitriol of Lucien's exchange, she registered his presence. She fiddled with her skirts. "Lucien."

"Is that all you'll say?" His deep baritone washed over her.

Eloise stilled her distracted movements. "Hullo?"

He closed the slight s.p.a.ce between them. "I suppose that is a good deal better than get out," he said dryly. He raised his hand, his knuckles hovered awkwardly at her cheek, and then he dropped his hand back to his side.

Eloise mourned the loss of that slight, desperately desired touch. "Wh-why would I order you to leave?" She loved him and always would. She would take him in any way she could-even if he was merely a visiting friend.

A humorless grin hovered at his lips. "Perhaps because you should order me gone."

She shook her head. "I'd not do that."

"Not even if I deserve it?"

"Why would you deserve it? Because you never loved me the way I loved you?" She bit the inside of her cheek, the startling honesty of that admission twisted her insides. Suddenly, his body's nearness was too much. She wandered over to the ivory sofa and trailed her fingertips over the mahogany back.

"I-"

She held a hand up. "You loved and married. I'd never begrudge you the happiness you knew." Even as the lost dream of him had shredded her heart.

"I-"

"I long ago accepted that anything more between us, it was a mere dream, Lucien." The truth of her words twisted like a blade in her belly. She hugged her arms to herself. "I knew that, even as my heart did not." Except, even now she lied to herself. Her love of Lucien defied all logic and knowing. It was based on friendship and emotion and those undefinable sentiments only carried deep within a person's heart.

"Eloise, I-"

She curled her hands over the back of the sofa and studied her white-knuckled grip upon the furniture. "You don't need to apologize," she a.s.sured him, picking up her gaze, she met his stare directly.

"I'm not here to apologize." Heavy regret shaded his words.

Oh. Warmth crept up her neck and heated her cheeks. "Uh. Well, then." She shifted awkwardly on her feet. "Why are you here?" she blurted and then at the frown on his lips she added, "Not that I'm not incredibly happy to see you." Regardless of his feelings or lack of feelings for her, she would, always be filled with joy at seeing him. Even when he was snarly and angry and foul. "I am," she added as afterthought.

His eyebrows dipped.

"Happy to see you," she clarified. "I'm merely..." Rambling. You're rambling, Eloise.

Lucien strolled over, impossibly cool and hopelessly elegant with his long, graceful movements. He stopped in front of her with the sofa between them. "May I speak?"

She nodded.

"I didn't come to apologize," he added.

Eloise sighed. "I know. You said as-"

"Eloise."

"Er, right, sorry," she said on a rush. "You were saying?"

Lucien reached his hand across the s.p.a.ce dividing them and cupped her cheek. "I'm not here to apologize because every apology I make will be inadequate and you deserve so much more than that." She leaned into his caress. The expensive, tailored leather glove cool and soothing upon her skin. "I was a b.l.o.o.d.y fool," he said with a directness that widened her eyes. He lowered his hand to his side. "You deserved more from me as a friend. You deserved a better man than me as your husband." He surveyed the luxurious, mahogany, Chippendale furnishings of the parlor, his gaze lingering upon the large and ornate golden bevel mirror upon the far right wall. "And I'd wager my other arm that you had him in Sherborne."

Yes, her husband had been good and more than she had deserved. But he'd never been Lucien. She'd not disrespect Colin's memory with the truth in her heart.

With a distracted movement, he picked up a porcelain shepherdess and turned it over in his hand, studying it. "My father left me property to manage-unentailed land in Kent."

Eloise tipped her head. Is this why he's come? She wet her lips and searched for the proper reply. "You will do splendidly in taking over the running of that estate," she said at last. For she did not doubt a moment with his intelligence and strength, he was more capable than any other landowner in the whole of England. And yet, she wished it was more that brought him here. Wished it was her.

A normally unflappable Lucien set down the shepherdess. The delicate piece wobbled on the table, then righted itself. He dragged his unsteady hand through his hair. "I've not come here to speak about the property," he paused. "Though it seems important you should know of it." He slashed the air with his hand and knocked the figurine once more. The golden-haired shepherdess tipped and fell on her side, unbroken. Lucien gave his head a shake. "That is, it seemed you should know about my acquisition of the property." Lucien frowned. "Nor have I come to apologize." His lips pulled in a grimace. "I am b.u.mbling this."

She desperately tried to sort through his ramblings. "b.u.mbling wh-?"

He raised his gaze to hers, silencing her question with the burning intensity in his gray eyes. "I'm here to tell you I love you."

Her heart froze, suspended. "You..." And then the organ resumed hammering a frantic rhythm. "What?" The word emerged on a halting whisper. Lucien crossed around the sofa and stopped. "I don't understand." Because after years of loving him and dreaming for that sentiment returned, she'd long ago given up the hope of it.

The muscles of his throat worked. "You don't understand because I've been a b.l.o.o.d.y fool." He lowered his brow to hers. "It took me too long to understand that I love you, Eloise Constance. I've loved you as long as I've known you." He raised her knuckles to his mouth and brushed a kiss against them. "I just didn't realize it. I realize it now and know it's likely too late-"

"No!" The exclamation burst from her.

Eloise's denial ripped through him. No less than he warranted but still agonizing for what it represented. It had been the height of arrogance to come here and expect she should put aside the freedom she had as a widow to wed a broken, unworthy gentleman such as himself.

With pained reluctance, Lucien released her. "No," he repeated in deadened tones. He flinched at the regret tinging that one word. He'd not have her feel guilty. He gave a stiff nod and backed away. "Forgive me," his voice emerged hoa.r.s.e. "I understood it was unlikely that you should indeed return my sentiments after my years of gross neglect." He took another step away from her, never removing his gaze from her person. "I will always be your devoted servant and friend." He bowed. "If you'll excuse me." With that, he hurried to the door.

"Is that all you'll say?" she called out, staying his hasty flight. "You'd just leave?"

Her words jerked him to a stop. His muscles tightened under the folds of his jacket. He turned around and looked questioningly at her. He'd not convince her that he was worthy, because he did not himself believe it-and so he would leave.

Eloise sprinted over. She placed herself between him and the doorway. "You misunderstood me."

Lucien looked at her probingly. The first stirrings of hope fanned in a heart he'd only recently realized wasn't deadened. The organ still beat. It beat for Eloise. He spoke slowly. "I misunderstood-?"

"No it is not too late, you great lummox." The words burst from her lips. "I love you, L-Lucien," she said. Her voice broke. "I always have." She smiled tremulously up at him. "I always will."

Lucien drew in a harsh breath, and momentarily closed his eyes. "You were everything I never knew I needed, Eloise. You were always there and I never saw it."

She leaned up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his in a slow, gentle kiss. "You see it now," she whispered. "And that is all that matters."

She was wrong. What he'd become in the years since their youth mattered. The years had changed him. War had changed him. But then, hadn't life changed us both? "You can love me, even as I come to you missing an arm, a man who has acted as a servant-?"

Eloise touched her fingers to his lips silencing him. "None of that matters." She moved her palm and pressed it over his heart. "This is what matters. Only this."

Ah, G.o.d. He loved her. He wanted her in his life. For now. Tomorrow. And forever. "Marry me."

She blinked, retreating a step. "What?" Her hand fluttered about her chest.

He raked his hand through his hair and cursed. "I'm making a b.l.o.o.d.y mess of this."

Eloise let her hand fall to her side. Did he imagine the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips?

He cursed. Again. "I'm cursing." He couldn't even put to her a proper offer of marriage.

Eloise's shoulders shook in clear amus.e.m.e.nt. "Uh, yes. I hear that." He dropped to a knee. "What are you-?" Her words ended on a gasp.

"I have had three weeks to find the perfect words for you, Eloise, and, even with that, I can't manage to be what you deserved." She opened her mouth but he went on, not allowing her to speak those likely contradictory words. "Will you marry me? Marry me because I love you and I'll spend the remainder of my days showering you with every happiness you deserve." He frowned. "Though I'm not the same witty young gentleman I once was." He looked to the pinned up sleeve of his jacket. "Nor am I the young, more pleasing gentleman you likely fell in-"

A breathless laugh escaped her. "Yes, Lucien."

His heart froze and hope exploded through him. "Yes, I'm not the pleasing gentleman you fell in love with?" He stood slowly. "Or yes, you'll marry me?"

She looped her arms around his neck and leaned up. "The latter," she whispered against his mouth.

A smile turned his lips. "I love you, Eloise." He lowered his mouth to hers and claimed her lips in a gentle, searching kiss.

He was home.

The End

Biography

Christi Caldwell is a USA Today Bestselling author of historical romance novels set in the Regency era. Christi blames Judith McNaught's "Whitney, My Love," for luring her into the world of historical romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and try her hand at writing romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections and rather enjoys tormenting them before crafting a well-deserved happily ever after!

When Christi isn't writing the stories of flawed heroes and heroines, she can be found in her Southern Connecticut home chasing around her feisty six-year-old son, and caring for twin princesses-in-training!

Visit www.christicaldwellauthor.com to learn more about what Christi is working on, or join her on Facebook at Christi Caldwell Author (for frequent updates, excerpts, and posts about her fun as a fulltime mom and writer) and Twitter @ChristiCaldwell (which she is still quite dreadful with).

Other Books by Christi Caldwell

"Winning a Lady's Heart"

A Danby Novella Author's Note: This is a novella that was originally available in A Summons From The Castle (The Regency Christmas Summons Collection). It is being published as an individual novella.

For Lady Alexandra, being the source of a cold, calculated wager is bad enough...but when it is waged by Nathaniel Michael Winters, 5th Earl of Pembroke, the man she's in love with, it results in a broken heart, the scandal of the season, and a summons from her grandfather the Duke of Danby.

To escape Society's gossip, she hurries to her meeting with the duke, determined to put memories of the earl far behind. Except the duke has other plans for Alexandra...plans which include the 5th Earl of Pembroke!

"A Season of Hope"

A Danby Novella Five years ago when her love, Marcus Wheatley, failed to return from fighting Napoleon's forces, Lady Olivia Foster buried her heart. Unable to betray Marcus's memory, Olivia has gone out of her way to run off prospective suitors. At three and twenty she considers herself firmly on the shelf. Her father, however, disagrees and accepts an offer for Olivia's hand in marriage. Yet it's Christmas, when anything can happen...

Olivia receives a well-timed summons from her grandfather, the Duke of Danby, and eagerly embraces the reprieve from her betrothal.

Only, when Olivia arrives at Danby Castle she realizes the Christmas season represents hope, second chances, and even miracles.

"Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride"

Book 1 in the Scandalous Seasons Series Hopeless romantic Lady Emmaline Fitzhugh is tired of sitting with the wallflowers, waiting for her betrothed to come to his senses and marry her. When Emmaline reads one too many reports of his scandalous liaisons in the gossip rags, she takes matters into her own hands.

War-torn veteran Lord Drake devotes himself to forgetting his days on the Peninsula through an endless round of meaningless a.s.sociations. He no longer wants to feel anything, but Lady Emmaline is making it hard to maintain a state of numbness. With her zest for life, she awakens his pa.s.sion and desire for love.

The one woman Drake has spent the better part of his life avoiding is now the only woman he needs, but he is no longer a man worthy of his Emmaline. It is up to her to show him the healing power of love.

"Never Courted, Suddenly Wed"

Book 2 in the Scandalous Seasons Series Christopher Ansley, Earl of Waxham, has constructed a perfect image for the tonthe ladies love him and his company is desired by all. Only two people know the truth about Waxham's secret. Unfortunately, one of them is Miss Sophie Winters.

Sophie Winters has known Christopher since she was in leading strings. As children, they delighted in tormenting each other. Now at two and twenty, she still has a tendency to find herself in sc.r.a.pes, and her marital prospects are slim.

When his father threatens to expose his shame to the ton, unless he weds Sophie for her dowry, Christopher concocts a plan to remain a bachelor. What he didn't plan on was falling in love with the lively, impetuous Sophie. As secrets are exposed, will Christopher's love be enough when she discovers his role in his father's scheme?

"Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous"