“Welcome, Captain Dare.” Her mother extended a hand and Cyprian took it, giving her a short, courtly bow. Her mother smiled approvingly at Eliza then turned her ever gracious mien toward Cyprian. If anyone could put a person at ease, it was Constance Thoroughgood. Beneath Eliza’s hand she could feel some of the tension ease from Cyprian’s arm. She must remember to ask her mother just how she managed to
project that lovely calm in the middle of such tense circumstances. But first they must deal with Uncle Lloyd.
Cyprian’s posture once more became stiff when they turned to face his father. But when Eliza took the three steps needed to bring them before Lloyd Haberton, Cyprian stayed right beside her.
“Uncle Lloyd,” she began, as she searched for the right words. “You and Cyprian met under all the worst circumstances. His opinion of you is not high,” she admitted, deciding to be candid. “And I know that your feelings toward him are less than generous—”
“I do not seek his generosity,” Cyprian interrupted her.
“Nor am I inclined to give it!” Uncle Lloyd snapped back at him.
“That’s not what I mean!” Eliza exclaimed, forcing her way between the two of them.
“Well, if he thinks he’s entitled to even a farthing’s worth of my estates—”
“Your estates mean less than nothing to me,” Cyprian sneered.
“Then return my ransom money!” Lloyd Haberton’s face grew red with fury. “Return my ransom money to me unless you are lying!”
Eliza’s eyes darted from Cyprian to Uncle Lloyd and back to Cyprian. He was enjoying this, she realized. If he could enrage his father to the point of apoplexy, he would probably consider this evening a towering success. To Eliza’s absolute relief, her father interrupted the two men before a full-fledged conflict could erupt.
“I will not condone this uncivilized sort of behavior in the presence of my wife and daughter!” he thundered. Both men glared at him but at least they were silenced. “Now,” he continued, yanking at the lapels of his frock coat. “It’s late and I am hungry. We shall sit down and make our peace and enjoy our dinner.” He turned to
Eliza’s mother and extended his arm to her. “My dear, allow me to seat you.”
Eliza had never been prouder of her father than she was in that moment, nor had she ever admired him more. As he seated her mother at one end of the oval table, then positioned himself opposite her at the other end, Eliza tugged discreetly on Cyprian’s arm. He did not lead her to the table as she hoped, however, but instead looked down at her.
“I would like to have a word with you. Alone,” he added, not bothering to lower his voice. But if his voice was unexpressive, his eyes were not.
“Cyprian,” she began in an imploring whisper. Her father, however, cut her off.
“After the meal, and assuming we come to some amicable agreement, I will gladly grant you time alone with Eliza. Perhaps a hot toddy before the fire, or some other appropriate activity.”
“That would be very nice,” Eliza answered when Cyprian did not, praying all the while that he would go along. Then he let out a short, harsh breath and with uncharacteristic brusqueness steered her to the table.
“Here, Captain Dare, sit beside me,” Constance said, smiling as she patted the chair beside hers. Her bright eyes met Eliza’s, sending her hope and encouragement. “Eliza, you sit between Captain Dare and your father.”
That left the place opposite them for Cyprian’s father. Eliza was not certain she could endure an entire meal with them glaring at one another like furious dogs straining at their leashes.
When Lloyd took his seat, however, the situation seemed to become a little less tense. Father and son might not like it, but they were actually sitting at the same table, preparing to partake of a meal together. This was going to work, Eliza knew with a sudden surety. It might be difficult and even become ugly. But eventually it was going to work.
Mrs. Dooley appeared with a tureen of steaming chowder, platters of crusty breads, a cheese assortment, and two different wines. While she served, the conversation was limited. When the woman pulled the door closed behind her exit, however, Cyprian took charge. He addressed Eliza’s father.
“Despite the awkwardness of our introduction, I am here to ask for Eliza’s hand in marriage. We are well suited, despite outward appearances to the contrary. And I believe she is willing.” He covered her right hand with his left one and sent her a faint smile. “I will be a good husband to her.”
And I will be a good and loving wife to you, Eliza sent him the silent reply. She had anticipated arguments and stubbornness and overwrought emotions at this meal, but she’d not counted on the overwhelming feelings created in her by Cyprian’s simple statement to her father. Her heart swelled with a love she never could have anticipated just a few short weeks ago.
“Well,” her father responded to Cyprian, nodding his approval. “I am happy to hear that. And I am well aware that she is eager to be wed with you. But I must know more of your circumstances. Where will you live? How will you provide for her? That’s why I invited your father here.”
“He has nothing to do with this.” Cyprian glared at his father. “I am my own man. I own three ships free and clear and I can provide well for Eliza with no assistance from him. As for where we will reside, I have a substantial residence on the Channel Islands, and should Eliza wish it, I can build her another home elsewhere.”
“Well, do not expect a marriage settlement from me,” Lloyd muttered, glowering at both Cyprian and his brother-in-law. “He kidnapped my son, after all, and stole my money—”
“He is your son!” Eliza cried, jerking upright. She
leaned over the table, shouting at him. She’d heard all she could stand of her uncle’s grousing. “When will you accept that fact and make peace with him?”
“He doesn’t want peace with me! He only wants to humiliate me in front of my family! That’s why he’s marrying you, Eliza, to get at me. And you are fool enough to—”
“Do not call her a fool.” Cyprian stood up too and Eliza feared he had finally lost the battle he fought with his temper, for he projected an icy rage.
“No, do not call me a fool,” she broke in, hoping to head off any further escalation of their argument. “Aubrey and I are united in this matter, Uncle Lloyd. The both of us have come to see that there is much to love both in you and in Cyprian. He is your son, whether or not you are willing to forgive him for kidnapping Aubrey. And he is your father,” she continued, addressing Cyprian now. “He may have abandoned your mother, but he didn’t abandon you. He didn’t know she bore him a child.” She grasped Cyprian’s hand in hers, twining her fingers with his. Only when he responded to her urgent grasp with a slight squeeze did she then reach across the table to take one of her uncle’s hands.
“Enough time has been wasted. Please, let’s not dwell on the mistakes of the past. The future is all we have left to us. I want it to be a good one.” She took a fortifying breath and prayed for the right words to break their impasse. “You will be grandfather to our children, Uncle Lloyd. Would you throw that away?”
She could feel the resistance in her uncle’s hand. Yet as her reference to grandchildren sank in, something changed. His frown eased a trifle and then he glanced reluctantly at Cyprian.
“Will you let them know me as their grandsire?”
Oh, please, Eliza prayed even more fervently. Her fingers tightened on each of their hands as she turned her gaze on Cyprian.
He was not in a forgiving frame of mind; she could sense that. And yet as she clutched at his hand, willing herself to be the conduit between father and son, she felt the very moment when he relented.
He sighed and looked away, and she wanted to cry for joy.
“If Eliza wishes it,” he stated in a stiff tone. He tilted his face down to hers. “If you truly wish it.”
“I do,” she breathed. “Oh, Cyprian, I do.”
Her uncle cleared his throat noisily, then as if in after thought, yanked his hand free of Eliza’s with an irritated frown. “Perhaps now we can get on with the meal,” he muttered. “But there is still the matter of the ransom money,” he added as he picked up his spoon.
“I’m sure we can make an arrangement that is satisfactory to both parties. Isn’t that right?” Eliza’s father asked. He stared at Cyprian until his soon-to-be son-in-law gave a grudging nod, then eyed his brother-in-law until he got the same sort of assent. Then he smiled. “Good. Now that that’s settled, let us make a toast to Eliza and Cyprian.”
As Eliza and Cyprian sat down, their hands still entwined, Gerald Thoroughgood stood and raised his wine glass to them. “To my only daughter, Eliza Victorine, and to her fiance, Captain Cyprian Dare. Long life and much happiness.”
“And many children,” Constance added.
“Yes,” Lloyd said after a moment. He lifted his glass. “Many children.”
After that the meal went relatively well, although to Eliza it seemed to stretch on forever. She wanted to be alone with Cyprian even if it had to be under the most circumspect conditions. She needed to speak privately with him even if they could not touch or kiss or even embrace. There were things she was bursting to say to him, but alone.
By the time her father tried to force a dessert of
baked apples on them, she was ready to scream. But as if she read Eliza’s every emotion, her mother came to the rescue. “Eliza, no doubt you and Cyprian would like to share a moment or two alone.”
“Oh, yes. Thank you, Mother.”
“I’ll arrange for a private sitting room,” her father began.
“We’d rather take a walk,” Cyprian replied.
“But it’s snowing.”
“I love the snow,” Eliza vowed. “I’ll just get my cloak,” she added, scooting away from the table.
“But what about your lungs? Constance,” Gerald turned, appealing to his wife. “The cold is not good for her lungs—”
“I believe our Eliza is no longer the sickly girl we tend to think she is. She’s a woman now, strong and healthy, dear.” She smiled at her husband. “She’ll be fine.”
Eliza sent her mother a grateful look as she donned her cloak, pulled her hood up and searched the inside pocket for her gloves. Later she would find her mother and they would talk. Later she would try to thank her for everything she’d done to make sure things turned out so well. But now … now was the time for her and Cyprian.
Once quit of the inn, though, with several stern warnings from her father to stay within the forecourt and not to linger above a quarter hour, Eliza could not restrain herself.
“You came,” she murmured, grasping the sleeve of Cyprian’s great coat and forcing him to face her. “You came for me in spite of everything.”
“He and I will never be father and son,” Cyprian warned, for he knew of what she spoke. “Not in the way you would have us be.” But his serious expression could not hold in the face of her loving gaze. His lips softened in the beginnings of a smile, and his midnight blue eyes
roamed her face, as if examining every angle of it, studying her, memorizing her. Claiming her as his own.
An overbrimming joy filled Eliza, a flooding warmth that even the worst snowstorm could not chill. Were she to will it, she was convinced she could melt the gathering snowdrifts, banish the heavy clouds, and summon the sunshine and warmth of spring, so complete was her happiness. It would always be springtime in her heart, so long as Cyprian loved her. But he hadn’t actually said it to her except in the midst of passion. She wanted to hear it now, when they were bundled in winter clothes, and only their faces were unencumbered by multiple layers of wool.
She stepped right up to him and laid her head against his chest. At once his arms came around her and she snuggled into the strength of his embrace. He held her as if he would never let her go, and yet his hold was as gentle and careful as if he held some delicate treasure and feared to break it.
But she would not break. So long as he loved her, he could never, ever hurt her.
“I love you, Cyprian.” She raised her gaze to stare up at him, up at the harshly beautiful face that was hers now to stare at for the rest of her life. “When you came tonight, I … I thought I loved you before. But now … now it’s even stronger.” Then she laughed and buried her face against his chest, for she feared she sounded the lovesick fool. But then, that was precisely what she was, and what she intended always to be.
When Cyprian lifted her face with one warm finger beneath her chin, she met his eyes shyly. What she saw in his dark heated gaze, however, sent all thoughts of shyness skittering away. For love shone in his eyes, clear and unhidden, there for her to see and know and revel in. Then he spoke the words of his heart, and the cold and the dark and the snow really did disappear for her.
“I love you, Eliza. Against my will. Despite my every
instinct that tried to prevent it, I have lost my heart to you.” His palm curved against her cheek and though he wore a faint smile, his words were serious. Almost reverent. “Since you have my heart, it remains only for you to agree to take the rest of me as well. Your parents appear to have consented, but it is your consent I need. Only yours. Say you will marry me and I will spend the rest of our lives proving my love to you.”