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He smiled as he straightened, his heart thudding painfully against his chest. “I found myself drawn here, Miss Smith, when I had a rather startling realization.”

She blinked, not seeming entirely steady. “What was it?”

Benj took a quick glance at his surroundings, then stepped closer, the distance between them still technically polite. “I realized I am terrified that, for the rest of my life, every woman I meet is going to be lacking in my eyes because she isn’t you.”

He heard the faint exhale that passed her lips, watched as she wet those lips carefully. “Benj …”

“I want the full six weeks with you in Wiltshire that I was promised,” he told her, lowering his voice. “I believe I’d make an offer by the end of it, given I’ve fallen nearly in love with you.”

Martha’s lips curved into the loveliest smile he’d ever seen, one brow lifting playfully. “Nearly?”

He shrugged with a hesitant smile. “Is it really possible to fall in love in one month? I was thinking it would take at least six weeks. I want more time with you, Martha. I want those six weeks.”

Her smile was sad and shimmering. “I would love to return to Wiltshire for such a time, but I am certain my mother would not let me. You see, she has designs upon the son of a viscount for me.”

Benj took a small step closer, his heart dropping to his knees at the prospect of losing her. “And what are your designs?”

She bit her full lip, almost pleading. “I have none. I want to go back to Wiltshire with you, but I am stuck unless there is a stronger offer, such as a proposal, and an engagement. And you said you needed two more weeks to be sure.”

He was shaking his head before she finished, his mind and his heart suddenly perfectly in tune and clear as day. “I don’t need two weeks anymore.”

Her mouth dropped again before she laughed, tilting her head in his favorite manner. “But you just said …”

“I have nothing in this world to offer you,” Benj told her, even as his voice turned rasping, “but a title and my two hands, a ramshackle passel of sheep, far too many pigs, and some fields I have plowed myself and will likely have to harvest myself. But I do love you, Martha Smith, and I don’t want to make anything of myself or my estate if you aren’t there by my side.”

Her eyes shimmered in the candlelight, their pure green brilliance shining through. “I had to leave Wiltshire for you to say that?” she asked him, laughing again.

“I didn’t realize it would be this way,” he protested, taking her hand and squeezing. “I didn’t want you to leave, but Pontcaster became so much worse for me when you left, so you’re my only hope of redeeming any of it.”

“I don’t see how it could get worse, but it’s a sweet thought.” She sniffed a little, smiling brightly. “Shall I sweep in and save your estate with my fortune?”

Benj shook his head. “I don’t care about that. Just save me. Will you marry me, Martha?”

Her throat worked on a swallow, then she nodded, her smile turning tender. “Yes. Benj … I didn’t know anything could feel this way. I wanted it to, but … I love you, my darling. I would love to marry you.”

He laughed breathlessly at her words, none of this seeming possible or real, and yet it was her hand in his, and her scent around him, her eyes he was seeing. “It’s going to take ages for Pontcaster to be ready and worthy of you, darling, but I’ll work hard, and when it’s ready, we can marry, and …”

“Nonsense,” Martha interrupted firmly, taking his other hand in hers and clenching. “I want three weeks, no more. The bare minimum for the banns. Benj, I want to go back to Wiltshire with you as soon as possible. As your wife.”

“You cannot.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s in no fit state …”

“I am neither squeamish nor ignorant now,” Martha said, overriding him again. “I can manage whatever you can manage.”

There would never be another woman like this one, and remarkable was too pale a word.

“Your mother will never approve,” he felt duty-bound to remind her.

Martha scoffed very softly. “You’re an earl. She’ll approve.”

He raised a brow. “She’s never heard of me. Or of Pontcaster.”

“She’s never been to Wiltshire, either, so she’ll have no idea of the state of things.”

Benj’s jaw dropped before he grinned at his bride-to-be. “Are you suggesting I be less than honest?”

“Not at all,” Martha quipped. “Just be vague in your honesty.” She quirked her brows and leaned close to his ear. “It will work, my love. Let’s make haste.”

A vision of his future spanned before his mind then. Laughing in the fields with this woman, looking like country bumpkins. Picking their own vegetables and harvesting their crops, both toiling hard. Children darting across the land with the sheep, playing with the dogs who should have been working. Dancing in assemblies among their neighbors, tenants, and friends. Holding each other at the end of a day before a fire, content just to be together.

Never, in his wildest dreams, could he have ever imagined anything so perfect.

“All right,” he replied, eager to make that vision a reality. He brought one hand to his lips, kissing the back for all to see. “Let’s make haste. We’ve a wedding to arrange.”