Andrew furrowed a brow. “I’m really not too concerned about it. Taking a wife, I mean.” He paused. “Seeing as how I already secured a promise of marriage some time ago.”
Danielle glanced up at him, a huge grin lighting her face. “Oh?” She glanced around. “Do I know the lucky lady?”
His face lighting at hearing ‘lucky lady’, Andrew stared at her. “Of course you do.” He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a tentative kiss, one that had her eyes rounding while his closed. He didn’t linger, though, awareness of someone nearby skittering across his back. He slowly straightened, prepared to apologize for taking liberties.
At that moment, though, Danielle’s attention went to a man standing next to a nearby hedgerow, smoke from a cheroot he held curling up in the spring air. He was watching them, and Danielle recognized him.
Her real father. Or his ghost, rather.
Apparently her father had decided to act as her chaperone.
“I do?” she asked, returning her attention to Andrew and acting as if he hadn’t kissed her.
“It’s... you.”
“Me?” Danielle blinked and then furrowed her brows, as if she were trying to remember the occasion when she might have agreed to such an arrangement.
“You said you would marry me. You were about ten at the time,” he claimed. “Danielle, I remember everything you’ve ever said to me.”
Danielle opened her mouth to respond but closed it and swallowed. “Oh,” she replied, wincing at the recollection of the conversation she and Dahlia had had with their mother only a few days ago. It seemed ‘oh’ was an appropriate response for any number of situations. Her gaze darted to her father’s ghost, seeing his pleasant expression had been replaced with one of worry.
Returning her attention to Andrew, she said, “Actually, I’ve decided I wish to remain unmarried. As soon as I’m five-and-twenty, I’m going to take my inheritance and go to Italy and Greece.”
Crestfallen, Andrew looked as if he’d lost his best friend. “What? When... when will that happen?”
“About three years from now,” she replied. “Unless I can talk...” She was about to say ‘Father’ but wondered if she should say ‘Uncle’ instead. How many people in thetonknew that the man she had always thought of as her father was really her uncle? A quick glance at the hedgerow showed her father was still standing there, although he was no longer smoking. His arms were crossed, though, much as they had been in the parlor a few days ago. “If I can talk my parents into giving me my inheritance early, then I’ll leave as soon as arrangements can be made.”
“Alone?” Andrew asked in alarm.
Her gaze once again darted to her father. “Well, I’ll have to have a traveling companion, of course.”
“You’ll take me, then. Or... or I’ll take you,” he stammered.
Danielle tittered. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Andrew,” she replied. “What would people think?”
“That we were married,” he replied, almost too quickly.
Torn between what she had decided for her future and Andrew’s version of it, Danielle reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “May I have a few days to think about it?”
He nodded. “Of course,” he replied. “Will I see you at Lady Morganfield’s garden party tomorrow?”
“You will.”
“And may I have two dances at Lord Weatherstone’s ball?”
Danielle chuckled. “Of course, Andrew.” She sighed. “I’m going back to the house now. I don’t require an escort, though,” she added, noting her father’s ghost was still hanging about. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She dipped a curtsy and hurried off toward the east, leaving Andrew struggling to breathe.
