Harvey’s head swiveled in her direction.
“You are already disagreeing,” Alden pointed out. “And I’d think you growing ill if you ever gushed.”
Harvey looked back at Alden.
“I amnotdisagreeing. You didn’t give me a chance to answer before you presumed I’d say no.”
“Then answer,” Alden growled. “Go ahead. Do.”
He fell silent as both he and Harvey gazed again at Clara. They waited, Harvey with ears pricked, Alden’s heart pounding swiftly.
Clara’s mouth softened. “Alden, you ridiculous man. Of course I’ll marry you.”
Alden stilled, anything he meant to retort dying on his lips. Had she truly just said—
Harvey leapt to his feet, tail moving rapidly. Not, Alden decided after a dazed moment, because he knew that something incredibly wonderful had just happened, but because Emily and Anne, followed by Lord and Lady Duxford, were climbing up the hill.
“Here you all are,” Emily proclaimed. “We saw the most beautiful fireworks. You missed them.”
Alden hadn’t missed anything, as the most spectacular event of the night had occurred under this stand of trees.
He knew he should announce the engagement, thank Clara for accepting, and ask her father for his blessing, but he could only stand mutely, reaching to enclose Clara’s hand in his.
She immediately came to his side, sliding her arm through his and leaning her fine warmth against him.
“What do you think, Mama, Papa?” Clara asked, jubilant. “Alden has asked me to marry him, and I have said yes.”
“What?” Emily shrieked. “Oh my. That is splendid. Splendid.” She and Anne seized each other’s arms and began bouncing in a circle and squealing, skirts flying.
“That is indeed splendid,” Lady Duxford said. “How lovely of you, Alden.”
Lord Duxford gave Alden a warm nod and turned a fond smile on Clara. “Excellent news. I’ll have the banns read right away.”
“Yes, indeed, but they shouldn’t marry until spring,” Lady Duxford said. “December and January are far too cold, andyou can’t rely on the weather in February and March. April either. Late May would be best. Then we can have the wedding breakfast in the garden. The early roses should be out by then. Do think about guests, Alden—besides your mother and father, I mean—and give me your list as soon as you are able. By next week should suffice.”
“Do not frighten him away, Mama.” Clara clutched Alden’s arm in mock alarm. “Six months is plenty of time to organize guest lists.”
Lady Duxford’s eyes widened. “No, indeed it is not. I must begin at once. Emily, Anne, cease capering about. We must return home and lay plans.”
She started past Clara and Alden in the direction of the Griffin house, then, at the last moment, turned and crushed Clara in an embrace. Clara rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, her eyes shining with tears.
Lady Duxford released her daughter and surprised Alden with an embrace for him. “I am so happy for you both,” she whispered into his ear. She drew back and patted his arm. “Welcome to the family. Now, I must be off. Emily, Anne, come along.”
Anne and Emily, hands entwined, scurried along after her, waving at Clara and Alden as they passed.
Lord Duxford stepped forward and shook Alden’s hand. “Well done, my boy. She’ll look after you excellently.”
“Papa,” Clara admonished him.
Lord Duxford drew her into a tight hug. “You will look after each other.” He touched her cheek, then laid a hand on Alden’s shoulder, gripping tightly. “I really must have that conversation with your father.”
He spoke offhandedly, but Alden saw his eyes bright with emotion.
Alden deepened his vow to himself to allow nothing bad to happen to Clara, ever. He’d failed a friend, but he’d keep his wife safe and happy.
Clara slid her hand into his as they watched her family speed happily down the hill toward the cottages that lined the Heath. Harvey sat on his haunches next to them, content to stay here in the darkness with Alden and Clara.
“You really should be thinking of your guest list,” she informed Alden. “Mama will stand over you if you don’t hand it to her at the beginning of next week.”
