Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
“All of that is in those journals?”
Another nod from me. “She didn’t write in them as frequently after she met her Clive. Her brother Bishop, apparently, sanctioned this and worked very hard to keep scandal from touching them and making sure they had their privacy. Times were different after he passed away. It wouldn’t be as much of a scandal, but even so, Cannon was charged with doing the same.” I gave him a soft look. “From Harmony’s writings, Bishop reminds me of somebody.”
Battle ignored the compliment.
“Why didn’t they marry?”
Finally, something made me smile.
“She was somewhat of a forward thinker for her time. She didn’t see the point, and Clive agreed. They were committed, that was all they needed. If she’d fallen pregnant, they would have tied the knot so their child wouldn’t face scorn and bullies. But she didn’t, so they didn’t. That said, everyone in the village knew, and everyone loved Harmony as well as Clive, so they just went with it, and they lived happily in their little space in the world for the more than forty years they were together.”
His eyes moved through the letters and journals scattered around me, and then to mine.
“So the mystery is solved,” he said.
“It is indeed.”
Battle looked about as deflated about the whole thing as I felt.
And that was the man I loved.
“Obviously, I won’t write about any of this in my book,” I assured.
“I appreciate that, love, but we do have to call the authorities.”
We did?
“Wait. Why?” I asked.
“There is the matter of a man who’s been missing for eighty years.”
“The only one who cared was his mother, and it is without a doubt that woman is dead.”
“It’s likely he still has family.”
“He died single and childless.”
“That doesn’t mean there isn’t family.”
“Battle, he was a pedophile, and I would hazard to guess, if he has any descendants, they would not want anyone to know that. Now his bones are turning to dust somewhere in an unmarked grave. And good riddance to bad rubbish. He’s forgotten. Great-Granddad married a woman he loved, had a family and a long life. Harmony found a man she loved and had a long life with him. Maybe not the happily-ever-after of a romance novel, but even so, they both had their happily-ever-afters. If you tell the police, this will be a huge deal. Way huger than Chelsea’s bullshit.”
Battle didn’t appear convinced.
Therefore, I kept at him.
“If you call the cops, you’ll not only bring attention to this house, this family, but also Harmony. She took pains to live a quiet life.” I gestured to the letters and journals. “I think we should bury this back in the floorboards, with Harmony’s letters to Charlie, and if they don’t entirely disintegrate and become one with The Downs, we can let some future generation that happens upon them read about two good people who fell in love, the world conspired against them, but they had their HEAs anyway. And the bad guy got his due.”
“HEA?”
“Happily ever after.”
His lips tipped up.
“Please don’t do that to her,” I begged. “Or Saint, Bishop, Flint, those footmen, even Aileen, Unity and Marie. All the people who cared for her in the end and took care of her. Let very dead pedophiles lie where they belong. Missing but forgotten.”
“You’re right, sweetheart, there’s no use dredging it up now.”
Yeah.
That was the man I loved.
I pushed up so I could kiss his jaw, sat back and whispered, “Thank you.”
“In the end,” he began. “We’re her family, you included in a way. We should protect her like they protected her.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let down the side,” I replied, and quoted, “Aristocrats are dab hands at holding their secrets.”
“Sorry?”
“Something Tempie said.”
“Sounds like her.” Then, “Are we going to tell the girls?”
“I’ll let that be your call.”
“I think they’ll be glad to know Harmony found happiness after all.”
That would be my call.
I just nodded.
“What now?” he asked.
“Well, I can’t type. My hands aren’t bad, but they feel tight and typing will probably exacerbate it. And I need a shower. I still have rain hair.”
No lip tip that time, he smiled full out.
“Rain hair?” he inquired.
“I saw myself in the mirror this morning. I look a fright.”
“You look beautiful to me.”
And again.
The man I loved.
Still, a girl couldn’t have bad hair for long, says me.
“So…for me, shower,” I stated. “Then I think I need a nap. After that, I need to fuck a hot duke. And hopefully, that’ll bring us to cocktails.”
“I hope you know, I will always be up for a fuck, but not with you having an injured knee and palms.”
“We just Home-Office-official, unofficially, soon-to-be-officially-official got engaged,” I reminded him.
I’d tell him later, as crazy as it was, his official, but unofficial, soon-to-be-officially-official proposal was the best thing ever.
“I suppose I could eat you without causing further injury,” he mused.