“That may be true, but hopefully this will come close.” Taking a bracing breath, he knelt down in front of them and placed a hand on each of their adorably knobby knees. “I understand we just met her a little while ago, but you enjoy Miss Snow’s company, don’t you?”
“She tells amusing stories,” Anne said.
“And she sneaks us chocolate when you’re not looking,” Amelia giggled.
“Does she?” he said with mock sternness. “I’ll have to have a word with Miss Snow about that. What would you think of she came to live with the three of us? If she was here all of the time, not just for dinner.”
Anne frowned. “Would Nanny have to leave?”
“No. No, Nanny will remain here for as long as she likes.”
The sisters exchanged a glance, then gave identical shrugs.
“There would be all right,” said Amelia.
“Yes, that would be all right,” Anne echoed.
“To be clear, Miss Snow wouldn’t be another nanny. She would be…well, she would be like a mother.”
“Oh.” Amelia’s brow pinched. “But our mother died. You said.”
“Yes, yes your mother, Catherine, did die. Miss Snow–Lillian–would be another mother. She would…” Blast it, why was this so damned hard?
“Miss Snow would not be replacing your first mother, mydears.” This from Nanny, who walked across the study and put a hand on Abel’s shoulder. “Catherine will always be your mother. But sometimes in life, if you are very fortunate and you have a father that is as wise as yours, you have the rare opportunity to have asecondmother. If Miss Snow agrees, that is. Your father will have to ask her. It is called a marriage proposal.”
Anne scooted to the edge of the chair. “Can we help?” she said excitedly. “With the pro…prop…”
“Proposal,” he said hoarsely. “And yes, you can. Absolutely.”
“Ifyou put on your shoes,” Nanny said, thrusting the boots at them.
“Race you to the carriage!” Amelia cried.
“Not if I get there first,” Anne shrieked.
In the deafening silence following their departure, Abel scrubbed his hands down his face. “Tell me this is lunacy, Miss Hathaway. I met Lillian less than a month ago.”
“Giving your heart to someone to keep is the verydefinitionof lunacy, Your Grace.” Ester smiled gently. “But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“She isn’t what I was looking for.”
“One does notlookfor love, Your Grace. It is not a series of boxes to be checked or a list to be crossed off. If one is very fortunate, they recognize love when they see it. No matter what form it comes in. And once they have it, they do everything in their power to keep hold of it.”
“I do love her.” He closed his eyes as he let the importance of his own words wash over him. “I’ve loved her since the Yuletide Ball and every night since.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Go get her,” said Ester, giving him a small nudge. “At the very least, go get in your carriage before the girls take off without you in it.”
Abel’s eyes widened. “By God, you’re right.”
He sprinted from the room.
* * * *
Opening nightturnout was…dismal.
“Perhaps we put the wrong date on the fliers?” Marjorie ventured after she snuck a peek out at the audience. Only a third of the theater was filled, but it was the three chairs in the front row–the chairs marked with little reserved signs she’d crafted herself–that filled Lillian with the most disappointment.
‘We’ll see’ Abel had said when his daughters had asked if they could attend the play. With less than five minutes to go until the curtains opened, she supposed that the three empty chairs meant ‘we’ll see’ had turned into a no.
