I coughed into my hand. “I thought that was from Mr. Clodwick!” I shook my head, hardly believing it. “Then it was you who said I was lovely?”
“Do you doubt that I feel that way? Because I will all too happily remind you of your loveliness every day for the rest of our lives.”
I couldn’t help the warmth stealing over my cheeks. Rowan Ashworth was a charmer indeed. “The apology in your letter was perfect. I’m so sorry for the confusion.”
“I might have a lot of faults, but apologizing has become one of my strong suits.”
“You mean kissing?” I had experienced plenty of his apologies today, and I was rather partial to his methods.
“Let me amend my statement: Apologizing, in the form of kissing, is becoming one of my strong suits.” He dropped a chaste kiss on my cheek.
I gave him a side-eye. “Are you going to apologize for how weak that apology was? I cannot accept such a half-hearted effort.”
“Weak, you say? We cannot have that.” He willingly wrapped his arms around me and apologized with his whole heart. Quite convincingly.
Epilogue
Arabella
Four months later . . .
Tugging Rowan’s arm, I weaved through the crush of the ballroom to have a better view of Elizabeth. “I see her! By the woman with the peacock feathers in her hair.”
Rowan tucked me in front of him so a couple could pass us. “I see her. Here comes the master of ceremonies with Samuel Pritchard right behind him.”
Mr. Pritchard was a school chum of Rowan’s—not one who had participated in the infamous bet, but a good friend just the same. We had thought that a discreet introduction would feel more flattering to Elizabeth. Both of us were sure that Mr. Pritchard would treat Elizabeth like a queen, but it would be up to her if she let him.
We watched as the introduction unfolded and Elizabeth’s countenance brightened. Her smile made the corners of my own mouth lift.
“I think she said yes,” I whispered. “Look, she’s taking his hand.” Mr. Pritchard led a beaming Elizabeth to the dance floor.
“Our work here is done,” Rowan said, guiding me away. I glanced over and saw them standing in a long line of couples preparing for the next set to begin. She laughed over something Mr. Pritchard said. My heart sang at the warm sight. Violin music began, filling the walls of Mr. and Mrs. Burnett’s townhome with a lively reel.
“Look, there is Harriet in the dance line.” I stopped Rowan, motioning to the opposite end of the couples.
Rowan followed my gaze. “Good, her husband looks properly miserable.”
I bit back my laugh. “The poor man doesn’t dance very well, does he?”
“No, but he is a puppet to Society and would not miss being seen on the dance floor.”
I leaned against his arm. “It is a good thing you befriended him and cleared up some of his misguided thinking about the treatment of one’s wife.”
“If he had not learned that I was so well thought of in certain circles, thanks to my printed opinions, I do not think he would have listened.”
“Then I should be very glad that I have such a famous husband, and I will be sure to convince him to visit this side of Surrey often so we might continue to use your cultured influence to aid my friend.”
“If you insist,” Rowan said, leading me away once more.
“Are we to dance?” I asked, wondering where he was taking us.
“Not this set.” A moment later, he whisked me through the open doors to the veranda. A cool breeze greeted us. This particular garden was overly spacious, but it was larger than I had expected for a house in town.
“You’re always trying to get me alone,” I teased.
“That was only my second goal. I thought you could use some fresh air. Your cheeks are flushed.”
Rowan was always noticing things and acting before I could even voice a concern. But this time, I had concealed my secret well—with the exception of my flushed appearance. I kept waiting for the perfect opportunity to surprise him with my news, but the man was always surprising me instead.
