“Let them talk. What can they say when they discover we are betrothed?”
He took her arm and almost dragged her out onto the terrace. In short order, her back was against an ivy-clad wall, his hand braced next to her head as he leaned in. “Don’t play with me, Silvia. If this is an attempt to get back at me—”
She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. “Do not be an idiot. I love you and I have for more years than I wanted to. Yes, I’ll marry you, but I will not have my father perform the ceremony.”
“Thank God.” He gathered her in his arms, and she threw her arms around his neck. “No one will ever take me from you again.”
“I know.” She laid her cheek against his chest. “It took a while for me to understand, but I know that now.”
Nick kissed her, long and deep, exploring her mouth in a way he hadn’t before. Someone cleared their throat, and he shielded her with his massive body, placing one finger over her lips.
“I shall keep my back to you,” Cousin Clara said. “But you must realize that when Beresford left the room with you in such a precipitous manner, tongues started to wag. May I assume that an announcement of marriage is imminent?”
Nick grinned at Silvia. “You may, ma’am. I am happy to be able to tell you that Miss Corbet has done me the great honor of agreeing to be my wife.”
“Oh, wonderful. That makes my job so much easier.” She gave an airy wave of her fingers. “Carry on. You have a few moments before the curious start to appear.”
He lowered his lips to Silvia’s with a ferocity he never had before. As if he had been starving and she was his manna. “I love you.”
“I love you, and I’ve never been happier.” Tears started in her eyes, and she blinked them away. “Although, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive my father.”
Nick grunted. “Is that the reason you don’t want him to marry us?”
“Yes. If you do not mind, I’d like a small wedding by special license.”
“Silvia, in order to marry by special license, one of two things must occur. Either I have your father’s permission—”
“No. I forbid you to ask him.”
“Or,” he continued in that patient tone she used to hate, “you must have attained your majority.”
“But I—”
He placed a finger over her mouth. “Will have to wait three days and about one hour to become my wife and the Countess of Beresford.”
“It’s almost midnight,” Clara interjected dryly.
Silvia shook her head and giggled. “Three days and not a moment longer.”
“Agreed.” He held out his arm. “We should go back in before everyone comes looking for us and we are the Season’s latest scandal.”
They found Clara waiting near the door. When the three of them went in together, shoulders shrugged and eyes were no longer fixed on the entrance to the terrace. Nick winked at Silvia. How Cousin Clara had done it, Silvia did not understand. Although later, she had every intention of thanking Clara for her help.
The strains of a waltz caused a surge of movement toward the dance floor. Nick escorted Clara to a chair, and Silvia to where the other couples were taking their places. She felt lighter than she had in years, as if she was in one of those hot air balloons sailing through the clouds. If only she did not have to act as if she wasn’t dancing on the moon. “I’m happy.”
His larger hand engulfed hers, and he placed his palm on her waist. “That makes two of us. I’ll write your father informing him of our marriage upon our wedding day.”
“That would be best. I do not know if he would attempt to interfere again; after all, he did say you could ask me, but I no longer feel such loyalty after what he did. Even if it was for my sisters.”
“I don’t blame you at all, my love.”
Silvia wanted to cry for all the waltzes they had missed, and the years they had spent apart.
Once the set ended, Cousin Clara decided to sit with friends, no doubt to tell them about their pending nuptials, leaving Nick and Silvia to sup alone, or as alone as one could be with two hundred other guests.
Potted palms and other large plants separated the tables against the walls and punctuated the room, giving a feeling of privacy that was as false as it was welcome.
A high, peevish voice on the other side of the plants next to their table interrupted Silvia and Nick’s murmured conversation. “But why isn’t Lord Stanstead here? Even Papa is present, so there cannot be a political event this evening.”
