Fletcher smiled. “Then that is what we shall do.”
Louisa looked at her parents. “So that’s it? Everything with Rotherfeld is over? Fletcher and I can marry?”
“Yes, my dear,” said Father.
Louisa could not keep herself from letting out an excited squeal. She grabbed Fletcher’s hand. He laughed, perhaps caught upon her enthusiasm.
Mother sighed. “All right. We must write some letters telling people not to come to the church on Saturday. Perhaps you will help, Louisa.”
“Of course.” It would be unpleasant work, but worth it in the long run.
Louisa was free now. And she’d marry Fletcher, and the two of them would be happy together for the end of their days. The only downside was that she’d have to wait until the end of the Season for the rest of her life to begin, when she wanted it to begin right now.
She wanted to spend the rest of the day with Fletcher, planning their future, making plans, or just spending time in each other’s company. But it was not meant to be.
Fletcher leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Forgive my haste, but I left my man of business pacing in my house, and I must give him the news that we will not need to part with a great deal of money after all. And that I think, perhaps, I should like to take my soon-to-be-wife on a spectacular honeymoon instead. Perhaps to Vienna. Or Milan.”
A thrill went through Louisa’s chest. “Oh, I have always wanted to see La Scala!”
She wanted to tell Fletcher she loved him, but not in front of her parents. Instead, she smiled at him. And she began a new scheme.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fletcher was about to fall into bed after a very long day—although he couldn’t say he was upset at all about the way the day had turned out—when someone knocked on his bedroom door. It turned out to be his valet, who said, somewhat sardonically, “There is a lady here to see you.”
Louisa.
“The lady is now my fiancée, so I suppose you will have to make yourself used to her presence.”
“Yes, my lord, although need I remind you that you are not marriedyet.”
“You are dismissed, Reeves.”
“Indeed.”
He turned and left. A moment later, Louisa, wearing what Fletcher had come to think of as her mischief cloak, appeared in the doorway. Fletcher, once again, found himself wearing a dressing gown in her presence.
“I suppose I should make myself adjust to the constancy of your presence in my vicinity at night,” Fletcher said.
“That was a lot of fancy words to explain that we shall soon be living together.”
“Yes, but not for another month or so. I promised your former fiancé that we would wait so as to not embarrass him.”
“Very sensible of you.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” He both wanted her to leave and for her to stay, and it was a terrible position to be in. He wanted to honor the commitments he made to Louisa’s parents, but he also wanted Louisa and didn’t want to wait much longer. Havingher standing here was the worst sort of temptation because, he suspected, if he made a move, she wouldn’t say no.
“What can anyone do?” Louisa asked, sounding defiant. “Force you to marry me?”
Fletcher sensed this was not an argument he’d able to win. “Very well. Why have you come?”
“I was supposed to be married a few days hence, and although I have less fondness for my prospective groom now than I did a few weeks ago, I was still…no, let me not frame it that way.”
Fletcher suspected he knew where this was going. “I don’t mean to be prudish,” he said, “but I do not think this is appropriate.”
Louisa made a determined face, standing tall and clearly ignoring Fletcher. “I believe we should be together. Physically. Tonight. Do you not want to be with me?”
“What I want does not signify.” Fletcher truly did not want to mess this up.
