He’d written books! Books that had been published by a legitimate publishing house—a publishing house who had no idea that they were distributing stories written by one of England’s very own dukes.
She’d yet to realize the depths of this man’s character, but the more she got to know him, the more she wanted to explore them. What other fears did he have? What dreams taunted him? How did he see the world?
How did he see her?
The door clanged from the front as another customer entered.
“I would feel as though I belong.” The words gushed out of her. She’d told him she didn’t know what would be different about her if her father had married her mother, but she’d simply been afraid to admit it.
He looked confused for a moment.
“You asked me—”
“What would be different about you.”
“Yes.”
He dragged his fingertips slowly from her shoulder to cover her hand—where it rested on her heart. “The heart wants to belong.” They might as well have been the only two people in the world. The air surrounding them was thick, preventing other souls from entering. “Sometimes,” he smiled sadly, “the brain doesn’t allow it.”
“I know.” Her voice caught.
“If belonging is a state of mind, Collette, we need to alter your thinking.”
She exhaled a sound that wasn’t a word nor was it a sob. It was an exclamation of utter confusion.
“Don’t give me your answer yet. But promise me one thing.”
Even though she knew better than ever to promise something without knowing what it was, she found herself inexplicably agreeing to it. “Yes.”
“Three things, actually.”
“Very well.” She smiled at this.
“Firstly, that you will not try to make up reasons not to marry me.”
She nodded.
“Secondly, that you will not make plans to travel to Scotland. It would be rather inconvenient for me to have to chase after you for an answer.”
She shook her head at this but answered, “I won’t.”
“And thirdly…” He tilted his head. “When we’re together, in private, will you call me Addison?”
Which meant he intended to meet with her in private again. Was he courting her? He said he would wait for her answer.
“Not Holden?” she asked.
He grimaced. “My middle name.”
Addison Holden Brierton. It was a lovely name. Perhaps the loveliest she’d ever heard for a man.
“So long as you will call me Collette.” But he had already.
“Collette.” Was the air even heavier?
“Addison.” Such a lovely name. “Will you promise me…?”
“Yes?”
