What a Lady Most Desires
Page 30
Stephen looked mortified, but he carefully smoothed his features to diplomatic blandness. “I have come to see if—” He ran a hand through his hair, and fell silent. Every eye in the room was fixed on him expectantly. It was so quiet the clock sounded like thunder.
Nicholas folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t think anyone is going to leave now, so you’d better get on with it.”
Stephen glared at his friend. “I had thought to speak to Delphine first—after I saw Lord Ainsley, of course. It doesn’t seem fair that she should be the last to know.”
Delphine swallowed, her heart pounding. She couldn’t breathe, or move. Stephen began to pace, and she watched his boots move across the carpet. “I am not the kind of man given to public declarations,” he said, and stopped walking. “But I—” He took a gulp of air, and turned to face her father. “I wish to marry Delphine.”
Lady Ainsley yelped and clapped a hand over her heart. Delphine peered out from her hiding place. Her father regarded Stephen calmly. “I think we must consider—” he began, but Stephen interrupted.
“I know, Delphine’s feelings. That’s why I’ve come. To see.”
“She has refused others before you,” Ainsley said. “Why do you wish to marry my daughter?”
Stephen shifted. “It’s not about money, my lord, or your title, though I’m certain you would be a fine gentleman to be related to by marriage.”
Sebastian stifled a snicker, but Delphine didn’t pinch him. She was staring at Stephen.
“I, that is—”
“Say it,” Nicholas prompted.
“She loves me,” Stephen blurted.
There was more silence.
“I mean, I love her. I love her.” He paused, took a breath. “If she is here, I would like your permission, sir, to tell her that, and to ask her to be my wife.”
Sebastian gripped Delphine’s head and nodded it up and down for her. She was too stunned to resist.
“Delphine? Do you have anything to say to this gentleman’s request?” her father asked, leaning forward to look under the desk.
Stephen turned. They all turned, and Sebastian offered her his hand. Mortified, her cheeks blazing, she stood up. Stephen stared at her in surprise, his brows rising even as his jaw dropped.
Nicholas grinned.
Her mother’s eyes widened, and the countess opened her mouth to speak, but Lord Ainsley took his wife’s arm firmly. “You have my permission to speak to Delphine, my lord. We’ll clear the room and give you the privacy you wanted.”
But Stephen didn’t bow, or move, or speak. His eyes remained on hers. He slowly crossed the room toward her. He took her hand and dropped to one knee before anyone could leave. They all stopped where they were, clustered by the door, and watched. “I love you, Delphine St. James. Will you marry me?”
She looked at him, her heart pounding, and the answer hovered on her lips.
Then he swallowed, and she realized he looked afraid. Terrified, in fact.
“No,” she said, her heart falling.
“Delphine!” her mother gasped.
“Oh for—” her brother began.
Nicholas sighed.
Her father regarded her carefully. “Are you sure, Delphine? A goodly number of men have come to ask me for your hand, my dear, but I have never received such a heartfelt proposal before today.”
“No,” she whispered again. “I can see the fear in your eyes, Stephen. You feel you have to do this because we—” Her face flamed. “But you don’t. I forgive you.”
He got to his feet. “Afraid? Of course I’m afraid! I was afraid of this, Delphine—of no, instead of yes.” He closed his eyes. “I’m not making sense. I want to marry you. I’m not afraid. I love you. It took blindness for me to see that, to understand that without you, I will always remain blind and broken and wounded. You are my eyes, Delphine. You showed me the man I want to be, with you by my side, my wife, my lover. I want to grow old with you, wake up to your smile, the sound of your voice, your touch.” He paused, swallowed. “Will you at least allow me to start again? Not from before the picnic, or from the moment I asked you to dance at the duchess’s ball—from the moment I met you, when I was still perfect in your eyes. You said I turned away. I was a fool to do so, I know now I was in love with you even then, I was just too foolish to see that you were—are—everything I’ve ever wanted. It would be impossible for me to turn away now. If you give me your permission, I will court you, woo you, for however long it takes to convince you that I love you, and to prove to you that I am not afraid.” He sank to his knees again. “Will you allow me to call upon you, my lady?”
Delphine looked into his eyes again. She saw herself reflected in the gray depths, saw her place in his heart. There was no one else in the world that mattered to him, or to her.
She fell to her knees too, threw her arms around him and kissed him. “Yes.”
“Oh, Delphine!” her mother began to cry, and reached for her husband’s handkerchief.
“At last,” Sebastian said.
“Meg will be pleased,” Nicholas chuckled.
Stephen looked confused. “Yes to which question?” She laughed and kissed him again.
She looked up at her family, beaming from one face to the other. “I love him. I have no idea if he’s a Tory—are you?” she asked him, but he was too stunned to reply. “I don’t care!” She looked at her father. “Is that all right if I marry him, Papa?”
Her father regarded her with a warm smile. “You don’t need my blessing, dear girl, but you have it.”
Nicholas grinned. “I assume it’s safe to tell Meg you said yes?”
“Yes,” she said again, her eyes on Stephen, his on her. “Yes.” He smiled at her, and there was only love in his eyes. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her properly.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I know.”
One by one everyone else left the room, but Stephen and Delphine didn’t even notice. They had each other at last, and it was enough.
Epilogue
June 1816
Naples
Stephen was bared to the waist and grinning. Delphine shaded her eyes against the sun and laughed as he pulled another sheep from the pen and began to clip the fleece from the struggling creature. He wasn’t quite as proficient as the shepherd working next to him, but he was doing fine—until he looked up to smile at her, and the ewe took the opportunity to wriggle out of his grip. Two strong lads caught her, and he turned over the shears to them and came toward Delphine. She stood in the strong Italian sun and opened her arms to him, kissing him quickly, ruffling his sun-streaked hair. He set his hand gently on her swelling belly. “All right?’ he asked.
“Hmm, better than that,” she said. She pulled a bit of fleece off his chin. “You must be the only diplomat in the world who shears his own sheep.”
He grinned at her. “I’m getting better at it. You shall card the wool and spin it and knit blankets for our son,” he teased.
The baby kicked. “Our daughter is going to be a champion boxer some day,” she whispered back, and he rewarded her with a kiss. He picked up his shirt and went to the pump to wash.
“I had a letter from Meg this morning,” Delphine said, watching him. He still took her breath away. “Baby David is teething. Nicholas says there’s an estate for sale near Temberlay, if we’re interested.”
He looked up with a smile. “We can go home next spring, when the posting ends,” he said. “Not just rent a farm in Italy, but own land of our own.”
“Are ye askin’ me, m’lord?” she teased.
“Do you fancy being a farmer’s wife?”
“We’d be home in time to plant crops,” she said. “We could spend the evenings by the fire, and I’ll read to you, and bake cherry tarts—when I learn how.” She watched him shrug into his shirt, and helped him button it.
“I’ll plant you a rose garden for summer days.”
“Perfect.” She sighed.
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He reached down to pluck a daisy from the side of the path, and tucked it behind her ear.
“Perfect indeed,” he said, studying her, his eyes growing hot. “Shall we have a picnic supper by the river?”
Delphine laughed as she slipped her hand into his, and they walked up the path together.
About the Author
LECIA CORNWALL lives and writes in Calgary, Canada, in the beautiful foothills of the Canadian Rockies, with five cats, two teenagers, a crazy chocolate Lab, and one very patient husband. She’s hard at work on her next book.
www.leciacornwall.com
leciacornwall@shaw.ca
www.avonromance.com
www.facebook.com/avonromance
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By Lecia Cornwall
WHAT A LADY MOST DESIRES
ONCE UPON A HIGHLAND AUTUMN
ONCE UPON A HIGHLAND SUMMER
THE SECRET LIFE OF LADY JULIA
HOW TO DECEIVE A DUKE
THE PRICE OF TEMPTATION
ALL THE PLEASURES OF THE SEASON
SECRETS OF A PROPER COUNTESS
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
WHAT A LADY MOST DESIRES. Copyright © 2014 by Lecia Cotton Cornwall. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition SEPTEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780062332417
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062332400
FIRST EDITION
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