Free Pride and Fire by Jomarie Degioia

you.”
    “No, no. Quite the opposite.”
    “Then, what?”
    “I told her the wedding would have to wait until next Season and—”
    “Next Season? Why the devil would you insist on that?”
    “I have virtually no inheritance to hope for, Chester.”
    Chester shook his head, incomprehension stamped on his face.
    “My father lost nearly all of it,” Paul said.
    “But… How?”
    “He wouldn’t tell me.”
    Chester raised his brows. “It’s not like you to leave it at that.”
    “I know.” Paul nodded. “But with Michelle to consider, I have enough on my mind at present.”
    “But the girl is quite enamored of you. Even Roberts saw that.”
    “I know, but with my accounts—”
    “This is about your accounts? Why of all the stubborn, thick-headed—”
    “Chester, I have to work a while longer to provide Michelle with the life she deserves.”
    “She deserves to have the man she loves, Leed. Do you doubt she loves you?”
    Paul stared at his friend as his heart slowly beat out the truth. “No.”
    “And do you love her?”
    “Yes, damn it,” Paul snapped. “I love her.”
    “Don’t tell me, friend.” Chester smiled. “Tell her.”
    Chester left him then. Paul poured himself a brandy and thought about what his friend said.
    “I’ll do it.” He drained his glass and set it back on the desk. “I’ll go to her, money be damned.”
    He got up out of his chair and went upstairs to dress. He wanted to look his best when he swept the lovely Michelle off her feet.
     
    * * * *
     
    Michelle’s shoulders sagged with relief when at last the evening was at an end. She climbed into the waiting carriage, finding her two young companions apparently as tired as she was. She was grateful for the silence on the way home. She’d had more than enough forced frivolity for one evening, and looked forward to crawling into bed and crying herself to sleep. Her lips curled. How bloody melodramatic.
    The carriage rocked to a stop in front of her house. She bade the other ladies good night and let herself inside.
    Thankfully her mother had already retired for the evening. Michelle climbed the stairs and turned down the hall to her room. She managed to unfasten the many hooks in the back of her gown and draped it over a chair. Betsy had left out a nightgown of thin lawn, along with a matching wrapper. Michelle undressed, donned the filmy gown and loosened her hair. She climbed into bed, pulled the covers up over her head and managed to fall asleep.
    Sometime later, she awoke with a start. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, so it was little wonder she was awake again. Then she heard something that surprised her. Someone was tapping on her window.
    “Don’t be a fool,” she whispered as she closed her eyes again. “The room isn’t on the ground floor.”
    The little taps came again. She cocked her head and listened carefully. What the devil…?
    She climbed out of bed and lit the candle in the holder on the bedstand. Grabbing her wrapper, she tied it tightly about her waist and went to the window.
    She pulled aside the heavy draperies but couldn’t see anyone. The sound came again, startlingly close to her face. Pebbles? Someone was throwing pebbles at her window? She looked down at the street, her heartbeat skidding to a stop as she saw Paul standing just inside the light of the streetlamp. He stared up at her, hope clear on his face.
    She opened the sash. “Paul, what on earth are you doing here?”
    “I had to see you, Michelle,” he rasped.
    She gazed furtively up and down the street. His carriage was parked a few houses down from hers, but should she risk the scandal?
    “Let me in, love,” he said in a whisper. “Let me in or I’ll shout how much I love you for all the world to hear.”
    He looked like he’d do it, too. A shiver danced over her flesh.
    “Ooh, I’ll be right down.” She nodded and closed the sash. “He loves me?” Grinning, she grabbed the candle and hurried down the stairs