She attempted to smile, but it faltered. “I want to help your family. I want to help you.”
So she would sacrifice herself like her older sister only for his family and then be forever the martyr. “I don’t need your charity.”
“It’s not charity.” She stepped closer, the small room making it impossible to step away again. “I missed you. I missed your smile and talking about art. I missed your kindness. And I missed touching you.” Though she blushed, she didn’t look away.
That fickle flame of hope once more ignited, and he tried to snuff it out. “I’m sure you can find someone else to pose for you.”
She shook her head, her smile genuine and unwavering. “No, I can’t, because I love you. I didn’t realize it until I’d let you go.”
His heart started to race and sweat formed on his brow. “You rejected me.” Saying it out loud seemed to take some of the sting away.
“You’re right, and I was wrong to do so, but I knew no better.” She touched his cheek, her hand soft against his skin. “I know better now. I want to be your wife in all ways. I want to be your companion, your hostess, your artist, your dance partner, and your mistress.”
Breathing in her scent, losing himself in her sky-blue eyes, hearing her profess her desire to be his in all ways was too much to resist. He grasped her to him. “How can I believe you?”
Her smile widened. “Because I know now that even if we had to sell my paints and move into a small home with nothing more than a single maid, I would be content as long as I’m with you.”
His chest filled at her willingness to be with him, come what may. It was more than he’d expected. He tried to imagine her in such a setting and chuckled. “Just a maid, you say?”
She cocked her head. “Perhaps a cook as well. I don’t know how to make blancmange.”
“Do I hear correctly?” He gave her a doubtful look. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Her eyes lit with amusement. “I do believe I am.”
Happiness filled him, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers. “Then, my answer is yes.” Cupping her head with his hand, he lowered his lips and kissed the sweet mouth he’d missed for too long. With her by his side, he could do anything.
Her tongue nudged his lips, but he pulled away, not willing to have any impropriety before they were wed. “You must wait.”
She pouted, her lower lip slightly further out than her upper.
“I know, but we must do this right. First, I must ask your father.”
Her hand rifled through his hair, making it hard to concentrate. “Couldn’t you just ask the duke for now and we can run away to Gretna Green?”
Taking both her hands from his person, he forced her to step back. “No. You can wait three weeks.” Though how he would, he wasn’t sure.
“Fine.” She crossed her arms and gave him a sly smile. “I just hope my bowl of fruit isn’t rotten by then.”
As his laughter filled the room, the door opened and the duchess stepped in. “Am I to assume we have a wedding to plan?”
Amelia flew into her sister’s arms. “Yes!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Late February 1817
Andrew squeezed hisnew wife’s hand as she watched the snow fall from the coach window. “We’re almost home.”
“Home. My new home.”
“Yes, Lady Sommerset.” He smiled, hoping to make her as comfortable as possible settling into Lyonsmere Hall.
She held up her other hand to view the ring he’d placed upon her finger just hours earlier. He’d commissioned it, not wanting to take his mother’s since his father was yet a year in the ground.
Her ring was a classic band with a unique design, the grape vines running round it a nod to their favorite source of amusement—he as her bowl of fruit. “Yes, I’m a countess now. I do hope I remember that.” She smirked as she turned her hand this way and that. “This should help. It’s so beautiful.”
“I think it will take my mother time to become used to being the dowager countess. She still forgets that I am the Earl of Sommerset now.”
