My heart pounded so fast that I felt faint, like I could barely breathe. I had so many questions, especially after this morning, and yet they’d all flown out of my mind in place of the one he was asking me now.
“I can’t have you believing you’re a mistress,” said Nick. “The thought of that makes me ill. I won’t hear it again.”
“But will you make me keep it a secret?” I asked, boldly, knowing I couldn’t accept the ring and leave that question unanswered. “Is this just a ploy to keep me quiet?”
“I have some affairs to sort out, and some arrangements to make, but no, it won’t be a secret, Grace. Sod anyone who sees our happiness as an affront to their soft sensibilities,” said Nick. “And let me deal with Margaret. If she can’t handle it, she can leave.”
“Then when will we announce it?” I asked, desperate to try on the ring, but disallowing myself. I watched Nick’s expression turn into a smile.
“We’ll announce it at the Christmas ball. We have one every year at the house. You can wait a few weeks more, can’t you?”
If my heart pounded any harder I would collapse.
“You really want us to be married? I’ll be your partner in every sense, including the business?” I asked. I thought of Heather House and the value of it. “I could make a substantial investment for my part in it.”
Nick laughed, making me smile. “I’d love nothing more. You’ll be lady of the house. We’ll announce it at the ball and get married early next year.”
Lady of this house!
“So what do you say?” he asked. “I love you, Grace. Willyou marry me?”
“Yes!” I screamed, holding my shaking hand out for him to slide the ring on my finger.
If I’d tried it on when I’d first arrived at Crowthorne House, it would have rattled its way right off my finger – but now, it fit beautifully.
It was a platinum silver band with a large tear-shaped sapphire glimmering at its centre.
It was perfect.
Chapter Fourteen
Nicholas
I found Margaret in the kitchen, where she would usually be making the afternoon tea and preparing for dinner. Given that there were no cooking aromas, a single pot on the stove or even a kettle boiling, I guessed something else had stolen her attention. Grace and I were festering in her mind, making her seethe.
She was resting two balled fists against the counter top, looking out over the patio and the gardens beyond, her face like a scrunched-up newspaper. Her countenance didn’t get any better when she spotted me.
“Grace and I have something to celebrate tonight. I thought we’d eat on the terrace by the fountain. Can I rely on you to call the caterer, and have a bottle of champagne brought in?”
Margaret’s arm flew out as she snatched a potato peeler from the draining board and hurled it directly at my head. I dodged it, just, before ducking to avoid more oncoming ammunition. Forks, spoons, a strainer, a cheese-grater and a mandoline went soaring over my head and shoulders, but mercifully, no knives. Maggie’s face was red, her chestheaving, her eyes glistening with tears, by the time she stopped.
“Why don’t I set up a table with a linen cloth and two chairs by the statue of Louisa instead?” She argued breathlessly.
“Margaret,” I said. “Let’s not go through this again.”
“You’re just the same as when I first worked for the Crowthornes. Nothing has changed. You’re that indignant little boy who wouldn’t listen to common sense, and now look what you’re doing.”
I began to gather up the kitchenware that littered the tiled floor.
“What am I doing, Maggie? I’m making myself and the woman I love dearly very happy. It’s time we all moved on. We should have moved on alongtime ago.”
“And why didn’t you?” she asked, folding her arms across her breast.
“Margaret.”
“And have you noticed that someone else hasn’t exactly moved on?”
I sighed. It had been a long, difficult day – I wasn’t in the mood for this conversation now, or ever.
