The Marquess of Yew Park House by Lotte R. James

The Marquess of Yew Park House by Lotte R. James

Author:Lotte R. James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2021-11-30T19:32:25+00:00


* * *

I can’t breathe.

Genevieve tried sucking in tiny breath after tiny breath, as Jules had taught her, but she just couldn’t breathe. There was the most incredible weight pressing on her chest, tightening her ribs so they could not expand. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and she turned away, turned away from the man who had just said words she’d never dreamt of hearing. Not from anyone. Even Jules, well, they’d never spoken like that. They had both put their pasts behind them, and that was that.

When she’d first seen the Marquess appear, she’d expected a confrontation. A demand for explanation, the reckoning perhaps he’d not given the day she’d confessed her great lie. The very last thing she had expected was for him to say... All he had.

That memory he had... She remembered that night. She hadn’t wanted to go. She should’ve been home, resting, on the doctor’s orders, but Stapleton had wanted to parade her about, and then when she hadn’t been amusing enough, he’d humiliated her, as always. She remembered all the people around her that night. She remembered wondering if she screamed, would anyone truly hear? If not for Elizabeth in her belly, she might’ve ended it, there, and then. Walked down to the Thames and let it take her away.

The past, the present, all of it flooded her heart and mind like a great tidal wave, the weight crushing her until finally she sucked in a huge gulp of air, only when she tried to expel it again, a sob wrenched free instead. And all she’d kept so tightly coiled inside for years, it unravelled, unwound, and she couldn’t stand. She fell to her knees, all those tears that she had refused to cry for years tumbled out.

The unbearable hurt mingled with the unbounding relief of being understood. Of being seen. Of being acknowledged for all she’d faced, by him. She’d dreamed of his acceptance, yes, but not of his admiration. And she knew she had it, she’d seen the truth in his eyes, and that had been her undoing.

I am not alone.

One moment she was there, her knees entrenched in the mud, clutching herself in the vague hope it might lessen the hurt tearing through, tearing her apart until she would no longer recognise herself, and then he was there, holding her, tighter than she could, encircling her with himself, and it broke her a little bit more, his comfort. The last vestiges of her armour disappeared into the air, just as she’d known it would.

Everything that she had been, the shell she’d crafted so perfectly, was gone, and she was left only with the most fragile, truest part of herself.

Genevieve clung to him, and he shifted his hold, sitting in the mud himself and pulling her onto his lap, rocking her gently as she released all she had within. There was no cold, there was no rain, there was only him, his warmth, his scent, his strength, carrying her, protecting her, and though it was terrifying, Genevieve knew it was as it should be.



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