She’d expected news from him. Nevertheless, when he told his tale of nighttime adventure, she was astonished.
“With Finley’s help, I got the men to Whitehall. Honestly, I wish I could have let Jeremiah and his brother go, but seeing how I was such a terrible judge of character and all my so-called friends from the chophouse are dishonest, what could I do?”
She shook her head in wonder. “Then Mr. Molino was not behind it, but the other one, the one you said was a jolly sort.”
“Delorey, who had a nice way of slapping me on the back and Jeremiah who recently lost his job. A detective will detain Delorey today, and I guess he’ll tell the police whether Molino was part of it, as well. My suspicion is that he was involved. After all, a king’s ransom is enough for a few men to share.”
“And for them to do some despicable things,” Beatrice added. But there was something else she was waiting for him to tell her.
“I know you probably are eager to know,” he said.
“Yes!” Her heart beat fast.How had his meeting with Mr. Russell gone?
“I hired a glazer to fix the window in the study and the one by your servant’s door in the back. By the time your parents return, they won’t even notice there was damage.”
She frowned.Did he really think she gave a tinker’s damn about a few broken windows when their future was at stake?
“Greer, I ...,” she trailed off at the way he was holding himself back from smiling. “Oh, you!” She smacked him on the shoulder. “Tell me how it went!”
“It went well. Very, very well. Miss Sylvia is an extremely wealthy cat.”
Beatrice clamped a hand to her mouth as she gasped, feeling her eyes fill with tears. She’d been hopeful ever since speaking with Asprey’s manager, but hopes could easily be dashed, as she knew. In this case, the opposite was true.
“I cannot believe it,” she whispered.
“Nor can I. And if not for you, I would have given the entire fortune to Mr. Molino for the price of paste.”
Unable to fight the warm feeling of love, she moved into the circle of his arms. “You know, you are simply back where you started,” she said, with her cheek against his chest. “A rich American in search of a wife.”
“Not exactly. I had money, but not anything like what Mr. Russell has just disclosed.”
She shrugged. “Money or more money, that’s all the same.”
He laughed, perhaps at her nonchalance. She didn’t mind.
“What I mean,” Beatrice explained, “is that you’re back to where you started, not being able to claim your ancestral home.”
“I feel the same as I did before, when I thought I had a full bank account. I love you, Miss Rare-Foure, and I will not think twice about losing Carsonbank House if I gain you as my wife.”
He loved her!And he’d finally said the words aloud.
“I love you, too,” she said, feeling giddy with happiness. “But I’ve told you that already. I’m glad you didn’t let me chase you away from our shop.”
He laughed. “And I’m glad you make toffee, as it has become my favorite sweet in the whole world.”
“Then I shall make you as much as you wish.” She was standing in her family’s confectionery, being held by the man who would become her husband, and she could not imagine ever feeling happier than she did at that moment. “What happens now?”
“Your parents are supposed to return any day, aren’t they? And when they do, I will go with hat in hand to your frightening father—”
She laughed. “He is the least frightening of fathers.”
“And then we will announce our engagement. That is, if you still want to marry a man who has to rely on his cat for his livelihood.”
They both chuckled. She liked the feel of his laughter beneath her cheek.
“I stopped by Chestertons’ agency this morning before even going to Asprey’s and told the agent I wanted the townhouse after all.”
“How wickedly daring of you, Mr. Carson,” Beatrice said, drawing back. “You counted your chickens after all.”
