“Franny, there was a time when I was foolish and afraid.”
“I recall,” she answered.
“Never again will I put the club, or anything else, before the only woman I have ever loved. I gladly give you The Emerald Garter as it has no meaning without you in my life.”
He leaned forward and kissed her again.
“I am but a future employee of yours, and this may be rather presumptuous given my new position, but Frances Hawthorn, would you be my wife?”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she bit her bottom lip, afraid to answer and afraid she had not heard him correctly. This is what she had wanted five years ago.
Was it even real?
“Your silence scares me. Have I truly lost you? Is there any hope that I can win you again.”
Frances nearly chuckled at the earnestness in his voice and instead of answering him in words, she bent and lifted her skirts high enough to reveal her emerald garter. “Only if you accept what should have been your winnings.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Seth’s mouth went dry at the sight of her shapely leg, turned ankle, and soft thigh caressed by her garter.
“Is that a yes?” He needed confirmation.
“Yes,” she answered, which brought a tremendous amount of relief.
“A Special License as soon as it can be obtained,” he insisted. Except… “Unless you want a wedding with all the ceremony of a wedding breakfast, ball…” He trailed off when she placed a finger against his lips.
“A simple reciting of the vows before a minister is all I want or need.”
“It will be the first thing I do as soon as the sun rises,” Seth insisted. “Then, the moment we are wed, and as soon as we have privacy, I will remove your garter.” He wanted to do so now, but wanted to act honorably and not take Frances to his bed before they were wed.
“Not now?” she asked with disappointment.
“You are not my wife—yet.”
Frances leaned forward, her breasts pressed against his chest, lips hovering near his.
“I never wager more than I am willing to lose, and as I did cheat earlier…”
“Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked.
“If you are willing,” she answered. “Though in truth, I’m not certain how to go about doing so.”
“I am not so difficult, Franny. You simply need to walk in the room and I want you.”
Her brown eyes searched his and he noted doubt and perhaps fear, as if she was no longer certain of them.
“I love you, Franny. With my whole heart, I love you, and have for so long that I can no longer remember when the love of a dearest friend turned to the love of my heart.”
She smiled. “My seventeenth summer,” she said. “That is when I realized that I was in love with you.”
“It was the same for me.” He smiled. “I had returned from London, full of myself, a most mature nineteen-year-old and then you stepped into the cottage where I was waiting for you, and I truly lost my heart.”
“You did not tell me that you loved me until two years later,” she reminded him.
“I was afraid to lose my dearest friend. Afraid that it would change everything between us.”
“Do you not think we have waited long enough?” she asked.
