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Tears pricked her eyes. Mr. Steele’s expression softened to where she could truly see his love for her—for it matched her own for him. “You have continued to see me, Mr. Steele. The real Marianne Coventry. That is why you are worth more than a thousand gentlemen to me. That is why I wish for you to always be a humble woodcarver. My humble woodcarver.”

As she finished, he pulled her closer, his hands at the small of her back. “If your sister’s negotiation skills are anything like yours, Miss Coventry, I can see now why your father relented.”

She laughed. “I am merely speaking the truth, sir.”

He sobered, his brow raised. “Then I shall speak the truth to you next. I did not live—truly live—until I met you. You have made me happier than I have ever been before. So…” He paused, drawing in a deep breath, and with all the sincerity in the world, he asked, “Will you marry me, Mrs. Hickenbottom?”

Laughter erupted from her lips at his unexpected words. She stood on the tips of her toes and pressed her nose to his. “Of course, I will, Mr. Higgenbottom.”

He pulled back. “You’ve forgotten my name already?”

They shared a smile, and Mr. Steele leaned toward her, pressing a sound kiss to her lips.

After a moment, he pulled away. “How I wish I could kiss you forever. But I would hate for your father to return, only to find us in each other’s arms again.”

Marianne smiled, stepping back, though it took everything within her to do so. “You’re right,” she said, pulling on a look of feigned austerity. “Now get to work on finishing this library, woodcarver.”

He instantly straightened with a stiff nod. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he sent her a wink. “Though, I must admit, I far prefer carving for Miss Coventry than for this stern, future Mrs. Steele.” He glanced at her sidelong, and a smile inched across his lips.

Unable to help herself any longer, she reached forward, bringing his face down to hers to share in his affection again. It was worth the risk, for Mr. Steele kissed as well as he carved, and that was saying something, indeed.

EPILOGUE

Marianne tucked her arm through Edward’s and followed him toward their awaiting carriage, their smiles unceasing.

The wedding that morning had been perfection, and the gathering afterward at Daffley Park had been even better. The guests—upper and working classes alike—had mingled as they’d sampled various pastries, a wedding cake, and, of course, cherry tarts.

“Why not have the typical breakfast affair?” Father had protested when plans were being made.

Beatrice had piped up in an instant. “Because Marianne and Mr. Steele love pastries, Father.” She gave him a pointed look. “Worry not, when Mr. Wakefield and I wed, we shall have the dreary meal you prefer.”

That had seemed enough to satisfy Father, and Marianne had sent her sister a grateful smile.

Over the last few weeks, Marianne’s life had changed dramatically. Her relationship with Beatrice had returned to what it had been before, Mother was in her element planning two weddings, and Father, well, he was as happy as the circumstances allowed.

Their footsteps crunched against the gravel drive as she and Edward turned, facing their families who had trailed after them.

Beatrice and Mr. Wakefield stepped forward first.

“I wish you both a very pleasant trip,” Mr. Wakefield said with his usual kind smile, which Marianne had grown used to seeing. He’d proposed to Beatrice only a week after Edward and Marianne had become engaged. “Though do not delay your return. I’m certain your sister will be eager to see you again.”

“Indeed, I will.” Beatrice removed her arm from her betrothed’s and reached to hold Marianne’s hands in her own. “Enjoy the sea air for me, sister.”

“I will.”

Marianne and Edward would travel to Cornwall to spend a week there in just each other’s company. She was more than looking forward to their time away—no carving, no responsibilities, no Father ensuring they’d never spend a second alone together.

Mr. Wakefield and Edward engaged in conversation about where their first stop in Cornwall would be—Tregalwen Beach, then off to St. Just. Beatrice’s tightening fingers drew Marianne’s attention toward her.

“You will be back for the wedding,” Beatrice stated in a whisper, though uncertainty flickered in her light blue eyes.

“Of course,” Marianne assured her. “You know we will return from Cornwall here, rather than Bath. I would not miss your wedding for anything.”

Beatrice smiled, blowing out a soft sigh of relief. The Steeles would have made straight for Bath and Edward’s wood shop, but Edward still had a month and a half of carving before he completed the library. Though looking forward to beginning their new life, Marianne was pleased she could remain at Daffley Park a little while longer—if only to spend further time drawing closer to her family.

Chuckling from Edward and Mr. Wakefield drew their attention toward the men, then Beatrice and Marianne shared a smile.

“I hope you will be happy with him,” Beatrice whispered, “even though he is a working man.”