“No. I’m ready to meet with him.” Charlotte didn’t want to wait. She wanted to know what he had to say as soon as possible.
She also craved his company desperately.
She took one last glance in the mirror and then followed Miss Frye downstairs.
Anthony didn’t seeher immediately. He held his shoulders rigidly, standing at the window and staring outside.
Miss Frye softly pulled the door closed behind Charlotte.
“Merry Christmas, my lord.”
He didn’t move. “You weren’t going to tell me goodbye.” And then he turned to gaze at her with those warm, albeit slightly wounded eyes.
And again, she experienced all of those sensations of… belonging with him. She managed a pained smile. “It was all so hopeless…”
But he was shaking his head. And then covering the steps between them to grasp her hands. “Not hopeless,” he stated confidently.
Oh, no. Please do not ask me to be your mistress!
“But it is!” She tore her hands away from him. “I can’t ever. My father would roll over in his grave! I’m not… I could never––” This time it was she who turned her back on him.
“Marry me, Charlotte.”
She froze. And then forced herself to take three deep breaths. Had he somehow discovered her news? Surely, Mr. Frye would not have said anything regarding her personal circumstances.
“I don’t care that you are penniless. I don’t care that you were a servant when I first laid eyes upon you. I’ve spoken to my sister and brother about you, and they don’t care about a dowry or family connections. They care only that I am happy. Look at me, Charlotte?” His question sounding almost like a plea.
He wanted to marry her? Even thinking she was nothing more than a servant?
She turned and stared into his face, noticing that his golden-brown hair looked as though he’d ran his hand through it several times and his cravat was loosened even more than it had been all week. Dark circles etched beneath his eyes and he looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
She’d noticed similar shadows beneath her own eyes earlier.
“And what will make you happy, Anthony? Will you be happy when the neighbors’ gossip about your common wife? Will you be happy when your account dwindles away and you’re not able to repair a manor house that has been in your family for generations? When you are unable to meet your responsibilities?”
He nodded without any hesitation whatsoever.
She wanted him. God knew she wanted to marry him. But not because he pitied her, or merely desired her sexually.
“Why do you want to marry me?”
He closed his eyes for all of a second and then dropped onto one knee. And again, he grasped her hands in his. “Because although we’ve barely just met, in the deepest part of my heart, I love you. I know it sounds foolish, but you are the other half of me–– thebetter halfof me. When I tried to imagine a life without you it was empty and cold. Nothing matters without you by my side. Put me out of my misery, my love, my dear Charlotte, and say you’ll be my wife.”
Looking down at him, his head bent and his lips pressed against her wrists, she realized that no mistake had been made. He’d felt it too, that magical connection. Her bottom lip began trembling and her knees turned to jelly.
“Yes.” She spoke to the top of his head. “Yes, Anthony. I’ll marry you.”
His head jerked up and for the first time since she’d entered the room, he smiled. “Thank God.” He burst to his feet and drew her into the strength of his embrace. “You’ll never have to deal with the likes of Lady Denton again.”
He leaned back and gazed into her eyes. “You’ve always been a lady to me. Even when I thought you were a maid, you impressed me with your person. Beautiful, you know, but so much more.” He bent forward and his lips hovered less than an inch from hers. The warmth of his breath mingled with her own. “Say the words, Charlotte. Tell me I’m not crazy.”
“I love you, Anthony.” They weren’t merely words, but a promise, a state of fact, a natural law. “I love you so much!”
Pressing up on her tiptoes, she closed the distance between them.
Something like coffee, and the spiciest liquor, and something quite undefinable and masculine compelled her to explore his mouth boldly. She wound her arms around his neck, feeling as though she’d finally found her way home.
Her breasts ached for his touch and she craved him… everywhere.
