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“Of course,” she said with a smile. As she stepped into the music with Rhys, it was almost as good as dancing with Cameron would be. But not quite.

Cameron and Arthur were both exhausted by the time they reached Tremayne House, but the lights were on inside and he could hear the whisper of dance music as he headed back to the stables. He slid off Arthur and wearily started to remove the saddle.

“I’ll take care of Arthur,” a voice said at his elbow. It was Farrell, the head groom. “You go inside and claim your lady.”

Cameron gave a twisted smile. “Does everyone know my business?”

Farrell grinned. “Yes. Now inside with you!”

Cameron turned and crossed the backyard to the kitchen. The sudden warmth made him want to sink down on a kitchen chair and fall asleep on the table, but not yet. He tossed his coat, scarf, and hat over the back of the chair, then followed the music.

He paused as he passed a mirror in the hall, grimacing at the sight of himself. His clothing was disheveled and his breeches were wet from the snow. Not to mention that his overlong hair was tangled and his prickly chin proved that he was overdue for a shave. He looked like a shiftless vagabond who would be banned from any decent household, but he couldn’t bear to wait any longer to see Casey.

Passing through the refreshment room, he grabbed a lobster tart and wolfed it down in two bites while he walked. When he opened the door to the ballroom, a tidal wave of music and warmth flowed over him and he paused, dazzled by the bright colors and dancing couples.

At first he couldn’t see Casey. He frowned, thinking that he was tall enough that he should be able to see her, but where… ?

Then he caught his breath, wondering if that was Casey waltzing with his older brother Bran. She was the right height and build for Casey, but Cam didn’t recognize the shining gold hair, and her magnificent and equally shining gown looked like the garb of a royal princess, not a Tremayne, even a very fashionable one.

The woman must have felt the pressure of his interest, because she half turned and caught his gaze with hers. A bolt of pure energy flared between them. She abandoned Bran and raced through the dancers as a pathway opened before her. “Cameron!”

“Casey!” He moved toward her and she sailed right into his open arms. His golden lady was so warm, so sweet, so Casey.

He pulled her close, delighting in the warmth and feel of her slim body. “You look like Cinderella, and I look like a beggar from Seven Dials,” he said ruefully.

“Really? I think you look quite wonderful. Very kissable.” She raised her face and they kissed for an endless moment of delight.

When they separated to breathe, he asked huskily, “Dance with me, my lady?”

“Of course!” she said with a dazzling smile.

Ignoring his battered riding boots and his general dishevelment, he swept her into the waltz. He suspected that she’d had some recent dancing lessons because she glided across the floor very smoothly, perfectly in step with him.

An advantage of the waltz was that it gave a couple the opportunity to have a real conversation. He said succinctly, “I visited Faversham before returning and talked to your family solicitor. He explained that your father died about six months ago, and you’re something of an heiress.”

“Oh?” she asked quizzically.

“The title and estate will go to your father’s heir—a second cousin, William—whom you probably don’t know,” he explained. “But your parents’ marriage contract specified that your mother’s rather sizable fortune would be divided equally among the younger children. Since you’re the only one, it will all come to you.”

She blinked. “You mean I’m well-off? What an odd thought after so many years of watching every sixpence! I’m not sure what I’ll do with it apart from being able to afford having your sister Naomi make all my clothing once she opens her shop. She did an amazing job with this gown.”

“Naomi created this?” He studied it more closely. “It’s magnificent, even for her. You really do look like a princess.”

“That’s how I feel tonight.” She blushed. “I’ve been having trouble feeling really female, but perhaps the final piece of the puzzle of feeling like a proper woman is to dance with a proper man.”

He smiled back at her, intoxicated by her closeness. “You certainly feel like a real woman to me. In a tomboyish sort of way!”

She laughed. “That sounds right.”

The waltz music ended. Knowing that the moment had come but feeling profoundly nervous, he reached into his inside pocket and retrieved the small velvet box. Should he go down on one knee? But he didn’t want to draw that much attention to them so he simply offered her the box, feeling shy. “Please?”

She opened the box and caught her breath at the sight of the ring. Raising her gaze, she asked, “Does this mean what I think it means?” Her eyes were wide with wonder.

He said softly, “If you think it means that I love you and very much want to marry you, yes.”

Tears glinting in her eyes, she mutely held out her left hand so he could slide the ring onto her third finger. It fit perfectly. “This is beautiful, Cam!”

He kissed the ring on her finger. “Always and forever, my matchless Cinderella tomboy, and light of my life.”