The Indebted Earl by Erica Vetsch (love letters to the dead TXT) 📕

“Charles, I forgive you about the miniature. And I forgive you for what happened to Rich, though I do not believe there is anything to forgive. But I want you to know Rich forgives you too. Here. Please. Rich says it better than I ever could.” She handed him the letter. “I found it among his things when we came back from your trial. I should have looked at it sooner, but I couldn’t make myself go through his belongings when you first brought them to me, and then I was afraid of opening a wound that was healing.”

She stopped talking so he could read Rich’s words. He opened the envelope slowly, and her heart constricted when his hand trembled. Holding the pages toward the light on his desk, he read silently. Sophie laced her fingers beneath her chin, biting gently on the tip of her tongue behind her lips.

When he finished, he lowered the paper, his eyes meeting hers. She smiled.

“There is no debt. There is no guilt. I loved Rich, and you are correct—I will always cherish his memory. But, Charles …” Her voice went soft as the full weight of what she was going to say hit her. “I love you. I don’t know when it happened or how or even why. I just know that I do. I love your walk and your dependability, and I love the way you take on responsibility, shouldering each new challenge without complaint. I love that you can deal with my mother and have her eating out of your hand. I love that you let Betsy wear your hat and that you teach Thea about boats and that you give Penny such a great example of what a good man should be. But aside from all of that, Charles, I just love you.”

She barely had the last word out when he dropped the letter and the miniature, and his hands came up to hold her face. An instant later he was kissing her. His lips moved over hers, and she threaded her arms around his neck. His hands lowered to her back, clasping her to him, and he deepened the kiss. A growl formed in his throat and vibrated on her skin.

The power of his desire thrilled her, and she clung to him, trying to say without words everything in her heart. He broke the kiss to scatter more on her cheeks, her forehead, her temple. She gasped for air, her heart thudding against his chest.

“Sophie.” He breathed her name as if hearing it for the first time, full of wonder.

She put her cheek on his chest, listening to his heart, as he rested his chin on her hair. “I understand who and what you are. I will miss you so much. But I will write to you. I promise. Just please return to me safe from time to time.”

A ripple went through him, and he put his hands on her upper arms, standing her away from him a few inches. “What are you talking about?”

“When you take command of your ship. I understand. You were made to be a sea captain. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to be. I know you didn’t want to be an earl, didn’t want to have wards dependent on you, didn’t want a wife. I promise we won’t do anything to keep you on shore or make you feel like you shouldn’t leave. I’ll talk to Thea and make her understand.”

A smile quirked the side of his mouth, and he shook his head. “Sophie, my darling girl, now you are the one with odd ideas. You’re right—I was a seaman, and I will always feel the pull of the sea. But if you think you’re getting rid of me that easily, well, you have another long think coming. I realized recently that I wanted to stay with you at Gateshead, but I didn’t know how to tell you, how to stay without violating the terms of our marriage agreement. Tomorrow I will tell the admiral that I am resigning my commission. My place is here, with you and our family.”

Waves of wondrous happiness threatened to topple her. To cover the tears she knew were coming, she sent him a sassy grin. “So am I to understand you are amenable to renegotiating the terms of our agreement?”

The air rushed out of her lungs as he crushed her to him, covering her lips with his. When she could finally listen once more to anything beyond the singing in her heart, he said, “I believe we should continue this conversation in a more intimate setting.”

With no argument from her, he scooped her up and marched to the connecting door to his bedchamber. Sophie felt as if one chapter of her life closed, and she joyously embraced the opening of the next, free of guilt, free of debts from the past. She prayed that Charles felt the same. No ghosts, no guilt, no debt.

E

PILOGUE

Gateshead Estate

October 1814

“POOR MOTHER. IT seems none of her plans are coming together exactly as she would want.” Sophie let her mother’s lengthy epistle fall to the bed-covers and took the small plate Charles offered, grimacing at the crust of dry bread that had become her morning routine. “Her leg is healing, by the way, but slowly. I cannot imagine what Charlotte and especially Cilla have been through as she convalesced this fall.”

Charles stretched out beside her, atop the coverlet, stacking his hands behind his head. “What’s got her ratlines in a snarl this time?” He crossed his boots at the ankles, the epitome of relaxation.

Sophie nibbled the edge of the bread, chewing slowly. “She’s decided to alleviate her boredom, and her disappointment in me foiling her plans for a fall hunting party, by inviting us to Haverly for the Christmas season. And from the sounds of things, since I had the temerity to marry you out of hand and foil her matchmaking, she has