“Yes, I suppose I am.” She sighed in resignation and stepped into his arms. A moment later they were circling the terrace, the cold forgotten. “How did you arrange all of this?”
“One learns how things work and who to ask for what when one grows up in a household like this,” he said in a matter-of-fact manner. “If you’re especially lucky, you discover a member of the household staff plays an instrument, in this case a violin, and can be convinced to play while standing in an open doorway.”
“My, that was lucky.”
“It was indeed. I was prepared to hum.”
She laughed.
“I have been surprisingly lucky tonight.” He paused. “You approve then?”
“Goodness, Cameron, it’s wonderful.” Even nature conspired in the spell Cameron had wrought. The pale moon peeked out from behind dark-edged clouds like a celestial goddess stealing a look at the mortals below. The night itself was still, without even a suggestion of a breeze. The music floated on the air and drifted into Lucy’s soul. It was indeed magic. And he had done it all for her. Her heart fluttered. “And, well, perfect.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He paused. “I knew I needed to do something, something grand and perfect, once I learned from Lady Dunwell that you discovered my real name at the ball.”
“I can’t imagine this was easier than simply confessing your deception.”
“You’d be surprised,” he said under his breath. “I suppose confession might be easier when one starts out with a clear deception in mind. In my case, one thing simply led to another and before I knew it, well, it was messy and convoluted and I had no idea where to start. But I didn’t plan to deceive you.”
“Thank you for saying so.” She paused. “I really didn’t think you had.”
“That’s something, at any rate.”
“Goodness, Cameron, I have always thought that I was an excellent judge of character.” She shook her head. “I would hate for you to prove me wrong.”
His hand tightened on hers. “As would I.”
“Believe me, I do understand the expectations placed on children by their parents and their families.”
“Expectations?” A cautious note sounded in his voice.
“Yes, of course. To be, to do exactly what we are supposed to be and do.”
“Ah yes.” He led her through a flawless turn. “You were supposed to be part of a banking dynasty.”
“Which was never my desire, by the way. It seems to me one can choose to do what other people and society itself has decided is appropriate or one can follow one’s own path, no matter how difficult it may be.” She shrugged. “Although it’s much easier simply to do as expected.”
“Not upsetting the cart as it were.”
“Exactly.” She nodded. “Even if everyone else thinks we’re foolish or choosing the wrong path. But you could have confided in me, you know.” She gazed up at him. “Ambition is admirable. I would never fault you for wanting to succeed on your own.”
He grinned. “How very American of you.”
“I am very American,” she said primly. “I can’t imagine how difficult choosing your own way in life would be for the son of a duke. To go against one’s family’s plans and wishes.”
“Oh.” Surprise sounded in his voice. “Well, yes.”
“I suspect a private investigator is not what your father envisioned for you.”
“No, he most certainly did not,” he said slowly.
“Which is why you use the name Fairchild.”
“I have always used Fairchild professionally.” His tone was measured. Even now that the truth was out, the poor dear was watching his words.
“It seems to me if you are doing what you want to do in spite of your family’s objections, then you must prove their objections wrong.”
“And how would I do that?”
“Why, by being the very best private investigator you can, of course,” she said firmly, and resisted the urge to point out that he hadn’t been very good at his chosen profession thus far.
“That certainly makes sense.” He smiled weakly. “Particularly as my family tends to be very accomplished. My oldest brother is brilliant in matters of finance and management. He will make an excellent duke one day. My two other brothers excel in the family’s business pursuits. And my sister is pursuing the arts. Painting and sculpture and whatever else strikes her fancy at any given moment. My mother is aware of Grace’s work but my father has no idea.”
She nodded. “It is more difficult for women.”
“Indeed it is. Not all women are as strong-minded and independent as you, although you and Grace would get along quite well.”
“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, independence is fairly new to me as is the idea that I’m the least bit strong-minded. I like to think I was simply waiting for the right time to . . . to burst forth.”
He grinned. “Like a caterpillar.”
“Not exactly the example I would have chosen, but I suppose so.” She thought for a moment. “I am trying very hard to be the woman no one expected me to be and I find it”—she searched for the right words—“exhilarating. It suits me. I like it very much. It’s suspiciously like fun. And I am having a great deal of fun.”
“I have noticed that.” He chuckled. “I’d like you to meet my sister and my mother and grandmother as well. You’d like them and they would certainly like you.”
“What a lovely thing to say.”
“Not at all. I can’t imagine anyone not liking you.” He smiled down at her. “May I confess something to you?”
“Yes, of course.” She breathed a sigh of relief. It was past time for his confession, although she wasn’t sure what was left to confess. She already knew about his name and his family connections. And understood as well that his choice of profession wasn’t something his family approved of. That was not the least bit unexpected. Beyond that, unless he was going to confess an interest in her money, and she doubted that, she couldn’t imagine what other secrets he might have.
“I quite enjoyed our dance together at the ambassador’s ball.”
“As did I.”
“It seemed to me as if we had danced together before. Or always.” He held her a little tighter. “As if we were fated to dance together.”
“You thought that, did you?” she said lightly, as if it was of no consequence. As if it didn’t make her stomach knot and her heart thud. As if it wasn’t quite wonderful.
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Will you dance with me always?” His gaze met hers. “Will you dance with me for the rest of your days?”
She stumbled and stopped short. “What are you asking?”
“I’m asking you to spend the rest of your life with me.” He drew a deep breath. “As my wife.”
“As your what?”
“My wife.” He cleared his throat. “I’m asking you to marry me.”
“Cameron.” She stared. “I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled. “Yes is always a good answer.”
“I hadn’t really planned on marriage,” she said slowly. “At least not yet.”
“Neither had I. But then I hadn’t planned on you either.” He chuckled. “But one should never waste an opportunity when it presents itself.”
“And I am an opportunity?”
Because I have money?
She tried and failed to ignore the thought.
“You, Miss Merryweather, are a gift.” He took her hands in his. “A treasure I neither expected nor sought. I further suspect that you, Lucy Merryweather, are the love of my life.”
“Oh my.” Her heart caught.
“I don’t want to reach the end of my days with regrets. You and your quest have taught me that.” He shook his head. “Losing you would be a regret I would take to my grave.”
“Love is never a regret,” she murmured. And dear Lord, she did love him.
His expression sobered. “There are still some things I need to tell you.”
She gazed into his eyes and surrendered. “I don’t care.”
“But—”
“Very well.” She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you married?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “No.”
“Betrothed?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Are you engaged now or have you even been engaged in criminal conduct?”
“Let me think.” His brow furrowed. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Are you going to break my heart?” she said abruptly, and held her breath. “I would like to know that in advance.”
“I might ask you the same thing.”
She stared into his dark eyes. “The last thing I would ever want is to break your heart.”
“Good.” He took her hand and pulled it to his lips. “Because I would rather cut my own heart out than break yours.”
She smiled. “A simple
never
would suffice.”
“Then never it is.” He paused. “But, Lucy, there are things we need to talk about.”
She placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. “Tonight, they’re not important. You made this a place of magic for me, for us, and I don’t want anything to spoil it.”
“Neither do I.” He smiled. “Then will you marry me, Lucy Merryweather?”
“I . . .” She wanted nothing more than to say yes. To throw her arms around him and press her lips to his. To tell him that she loved him and would love him forever. But some small, reasonable part of her urged caution. She chose her words carefully. “I do need to think about it before I give you an answer.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”
“Of course I do.”
He stared and dropped her hand. “What is there to think about?”
“Why, obviously there are any number of matters to consider.” She ticked the points off on her fingers. “My family and yours, for one thing. Where we would live, for another. Whether or not I would continue my quest, of course. All sorts of practical matters that need to be addressed.”
“I don’t care about practical matters.”
“One of us should.”
“I have no desire to be practical.”
“Frankly, neither do I.” She pulled a deep breath. “But if this were any other decision, particularly one this important, you would be the first to tell me to give something like this due consideration. In fact, you would be most irate if I didn’t.”
“I have given it due consideration,” he said staunchly.
“Due consideration on both sides.” She shook her head. “I am not going to be swept away by a romantic gesture no matter how wonderful. Marriage is for the rest of our lives. It shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“I’m not taking it lightly. I’ve never asked anyone to marry me before.” His tone sharpened and he stared at her. “I’ve given this a great deal of thought.”
“I haven’t.” Admittedly, when she’d realized she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, it had occurred to her.
“Hasn’t it crossed your mind before now?”
“Marrying you?”
“You needn’t say it as if I had asked you to swim an ocean or fly to the moon or do something completely absurd.”
“Not at all but—”
“But.” His eyes narrowed. “You think I’m beneath you.”
“Don’t be absurd.” She scoffed.
“Until recently you thought I was nothing more than a . . . an inept private investigator.”
“Do remember in the future that you were the one to use the word
inept
.” Her tone hardened. “Not I.”
“You would never consider marriage to a man who had to work for a living.”
She stared in disbelief. “That’s neither fair nor true. And even if it was, if I was that . . . that
shallow
, the fact that you are the son of a duke would negate that objection, wouldn’t it?”
“One would think,” he snapped.
“Under your reasoning, why, I should jump at the chance to marry you.”
“Most women would.” He shrugged in an offhand manner, as if the idea of any woman not leaping to accept his proposal was so far-fetched as to be unbelievable.
“I am not most women. I would never marry anyone because of what they are.” Her eyes narrowed. “I am more concerned with who they are.”
“You know who I am.” His jaw tightened. “I am the man who has done everything in his power to keep you from ruining your life with scandal and improper behavior. I am the man who has gone out of his way to help you in your silly little quest.”
She gasped. “Silly little quest?”
He ignored her. “I am the man who has made certain you did not fall prey to unscrupulous French cooks and artists bent on seduction!”
“I would never—”
“I am the man who just foolishly asked you to marry him!” He glared at her. “Bloody hell, Lucy, I am the man who loves you!”
“You’re also the man who deceived me from the moment we met,” she pointed out. He had absolutely no right to be quite so indignant. “As well as the man who didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth!”
“You know the truth now.”
“Through no fault of yours!”
“I intended to tell you!”
“Intentions, Mr. Fairchild or Effington or whomever you are calling yourself tonight, scarcely count if they never come to fruition!” she snapped. “You had any number of opportunities to confess.”
“Yes, well, admittedly that might have been a mistake on my part.”
“Might have been a mistake?” She pulled a steadying breath in an effort to calm herself. It didn’t help. “I am not inclined to make a decision at the moment on your generous offer of marriage. I shall consider it and give you my answer in the morning.” She turned and stalked toward the door.
“What about my other question?”
“Answering one will give you the answer to the other,” she called over her shoulder, and continued into the manor, avoiding the library and the parlor and heading straight to her rooms.
She almost expected him to follow her and wasn’t sure if she was disappointed by his failure to do so or grateful. They were both saying things they didn’t really mean and it was probably best to part now before either of them said something that was truly unforgivable.
Besides, while she had done what she was certain was right a few minutes ago, now she wasn’t sure if she had been extremely sensible or had just made the biggest mistake of her life. The horrible heavy weight squeezing her heart indicated the latter. Still, try as she might, she wasn’t entirely confident he wasn’t still hiding something.