“I didn’t come for the dinner.” Carter stared into her eyes. “I came for you.” Her eyes widened.
“But how—”
“Mrs. Grey.” Carter half-laughed. “Apparently she’s known who you are all along.” Whereas he’d missed all the clues, imagining her to be an actress!
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
Her answer was a delicate shrug. “Would you have hired me? Would you have agreed to produce Lady of the Scullery?”
Carter blinked at her questions. Would he have? “I would have produced the play.” It really was that good. But he never would have hired the daughter of a duke as his assistant.
Sensing his ambiguity, she gave him a weak smile. “I suppose that’s something.” But she looked sad and Carter didn’t like that. Careful not to let her out of his sight, Carter rose.
“You’re leaving?” She looked as though she would stand but he halted her with a shake of his head.
“I’m coming over there.” For a few hours he’d thought he might never see her again. And now, he just needed…
Her.
And with each step, his pulse soared. Because she was right here. And for reasons he would never understand, fate was on his side.
What had felt like a betrayal, hadn’t been that at all. It had been a gift.
He withdrew the chair adjacent to hers and lowered himself beside her. “Look at me, Elle.” He faced her.
When she turned, he touched the gentle curve of her cheek. “I didn’t come here to meet your parents. If I’d much as glanced at the address my father left, I might have known. But I didn’t know.” He willed her to comprehend what he was saying. “I didn’t know.”
And then he saw it, the light of understanding. And something else. Hope? Delight?
She gave her head a little shake. “But it was all arranged—”
“I didn’t know,” Carter repeated.
Her tongue coming out to lick her lips caught Carter’s attention. It took all his control not to gather her into his arms and make his case without words.
But she was a writer. Words might be precisely what she needed.
“When I read your note, all I could think was that you had it all wrong.” Carter slid his fingers into her hair. When had she become so precious to him? “I can find other investors, Elle. In fact, I’ve a meeting with Malcolm Hollandale—the man has more money than he knows what to do with.” He caught her hand and squeezed it. “I can even find other plays. But what I can’t replace… is you.”
“As your assistant?”
“As so much more than that.”
“Because of…” She slid her gaze toward the door where their parents had just disappeared.
But before she could finish her question, Carter was shaking his head.
“In spite of…” He slid his gaze the same way she had, but smiled.
“But it’s what they want,” she argued.
Carter couldn’t help the grimace at the reminder. “We’ll just have to live with that, I suppose.”
She raised her free hand, holding it over her mouth.
“Not because of your parents, or my father, or my inheritance. And I’ll be damned if I touch so much as a penny of your dowry.” Carter did something he thought he never would. He slid off his chair and onto one knee. He thought he’d feel foolish, but he didn’t. Not even a little.
“Marry me, Elle?”
