Bryony set the book aside and pushed to her feet. It would be churlish to refuse an apology. Her heart thumped. Nor was there any sense in avoiding him. Not when he already filled her every thought.
She walked toward the door and stopped short behind her butler. “Why are you here?”
Max cleared his throat. “May I come in?”
She crossed her arms. “No.”
“Very well.” He took a deep breath. “I’m in love with you, Bryony Grenville. I know I am not what your parents hoped. I’m not even what you had hoped. But I love you. I wanted you to know.”
Her heart cracked a little. “Anything else?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His words were filled with self-loathing. “I was the one who didn’t think before acting. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”
Her heart fluttered. They had both been rash. They had both been wrong. What mattered was that they were able to discuss their feelings. To forgive. To help each other be better.
“Is that all?” she asked, her voice softer this time.
“It is not all.” With a flourish, he thrust a kitten-sized blob of blindingly red fabric in her direction. “This is for you.”
Curiosity won out.
She uncrossed her arms and stepped forward to accept what deductive reasoning would have her believe was a cushion of some kind. An uncomfortable one. What with sharp quill ends sticking out through the fabric at every angle.
“Impressive,” she said. “You managed to make it worse than mine.”
“It’s heart-shaped,” he said helpfully.
She gave it a few skeptical turns. “Is it?”
He dropped to one knee in supplication. “I am forced to present you with a poor facsimile because you already possess the real thing. You are the keeper of my heart and the greatest partner a man could ever hope to find. I would like to be yours forever. Would you do me the honor of being my bride?”
Bryony’s eyes shone with tears. There was nothing she wanted more.
But before she could respond, the soft footfalls of her mother’s slippers hurried down the stairs.
“What is this?” Mother demanded shrilly. “Was I not clear?”
“You were cruel,” Bryony corrected, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. “You publicly humiliated the man that I love for no reason at all.”
“You love me?” Max’s grin lit his eyes. “Youloveme.”
“Of course I love you.” Bryony set her fists on her hips in exasperation. “What other conclusion could be drawn from more than a month’s worth of behavioral observation?”
“I told you not to talk like that,” Mother interrupted fretfully. “People will hear you.”
Bryony did not respond. All her attention was focused on the long-haired rogue on one knee before her.
She knelt to join him.
“Yes.” She took his hands. “I will marry you. I’ve analyzed my calculations several times and come to the only conclusion that matters. Living together creates increased opportunities for biscuit-making. And biscuits lead to—”
“Absolutely not,” Mother grabbed Bryony’s elbow and yanked her to her side. “I forbid it.”
Max leaped to his feet. “Lady Grenville—”
“You will not address me,” Mother interrupted without even looking his way. Her eyes were on Bryony. “And you will not either if you continue down this path. I will lock you away if I have to.”
Bryony wrenched her arm from her mother’s grip and reached out toward Max. “Do you have any plans for tonight? How much is a hack to Gretna Green?”
