“And when I’ve known her for an eternity, in this world and in heaven, if I’m so fortunate as to be admitted, I will feel exactly the same as I do now.”
“Oh,” Annalise sighed dreamily, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Youarea poet.”
Derrick grimaced. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
Unfortunately, the lady’s maid didn’t appear quite as smitten with him as her charge.
“You are a duke with a reputation, Your Grace.” Becca folded her arms. “For drinking, gambling, and - Annalise, don’t listen, my dear - whoring. Is it your intention to give up all of your vices?”
“Well, I was going to keep afew. Jesting,” he said hastily when Becca’s eyes narrowed. “Only jesting. If you are asking if I intend to remain loyal to Annalise, my answer is, and will always, be yes. I am will not lie and describe myself as a good man, Miss Becca. But when I am in the company of Annalise… when I am in the company of Annalise, I don’t feel as bad as I’ve convinced myself that I am. I realize that sounds trite, given the hours that she and I have known each other. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”
Terrible, torturous moments of silence.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“I like him,” Becca announced, unfolding her arms. “Annalise, my lady, you’ve chosen well. Your Grace, you may continue with your proposal.”
His proposal?
Oh, right.
That.
“Don’t you dare bite me,” he told Constantine as he lowered himself to bending knee and gazed up into the beautiful countenance of the woman that he loved. “Annalise, I… I am afraid I’ve run out of poetry.”
“That’s all right.” Her smile’s brightness rivaled the sun. “I’d like to share some of my own. I went out this morning determined to find true love. You see, while you spent most of your adulthood in gambling dens and gentleman’s clubs, I’ve spent mine here, closed off from the rest of the world, forced to watch as it passed by without me in it. So I went out into that world today to search for my future husband. Instead, I found you. Or you found me. You weren’t who I was looking for, Derrick.”
He frowned. “I am not sure I like the direction this proposal is heading.”
“You weren’t who I was looking for,” Annalise repeated, holding up a finger, “but you were certainly who I was meant to find, and I love you. Will you marry me?”
“I thought I was supposed to say that part,” he said, a tad disgruntled.”
“You can if I like.”
“Idolike, thank you very much.” He reached out and took her hand. “Lady Annalise Buttercream, protector of geese and love of my slightly jaded heart, will you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?”
“Yes,” she said happily while Becca began to clap and the geese honked. “Oh, a thousand times yes!”
“What’s all this?” asked a man as he came walking briskly up the front pathway, his eyes - the same blue as Annalise’s - going from the trio of geese, to Derrick, still on his knee, to a sniffling Becca, to a glowing Annalise, and then back to Derrick. A frown already forming, he snapped, “Who are you? What are you doing here? Why are you kneeling like that?”
What was that saying of desperate men?
The third time was the charm?
“Good afternoon, Lord Sandwich,” he said formally as he rose to his feet. “I am Derrick Blake, the Duke of Tennyson. And I am in love with your daughter…”
Epilogue
They were married by special license precisely three weeks later. It rained, as it was won’t to do in London during the springtime, but when Annalise and Derrick emerged from the church there was a rainbow that stretched from one side of the Thames to the other.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Annalise gasped, halting in her tracks to point at the breathtaking display of colors.
“Not as beautiful as what I’m looking at,” Derrick said huskily and she blushed a deep pink when she realized he was looking at her.
