Philip pushed his way out into the garden at Gullsville Place, where he’d been instructed that he could find Cecelia. She sat on a bench beneath a shade tree, her face turned away.
The conversation with Lord Gullsville had been swift, but not without its surprises.
“Cecelia,” Philip said as he approached.
She did not turn her face up to look at him. “You needn’t have bothered to come to me.”
A prickle of fear edged through him. “Did I hurt you?”
They hadn’t been able to speak alone after they’d been woken after the storm, after they’d lain together. Perhaps he had been too eager and unintentionally rough. Or perhaps she regretted what she’d done.
Damn it. He should have said no. He should have walked away into the driving rain to cool his lust.
“No, you haven’t hurt me…yet.” She finally faced him, her eyes red and swollen from her tears. “I suspect that is why you are now here.”
Hurt flashed through him. “I told you I am no rake, my love.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I know you are not.”
He sank onto the bench beside her where the perfume of the garden mingled with the loveliness of her lilac scent and reached for her hand. “I came to make good on my declaration to marry you.”
“Then I presume you have not spoken with my father as yet.” Her gaze settled on where her hand remained limp against his hand.
“I have.”
She sucked in a hard breath as tears welled in her eyes. “Then you do not know.”
He frowned. “I don’t understand. What do I not know?”
Her hand withdrew from his to cover her face. “I have no dowry, Philip.” A quiet sob came from behind her fingers.
He took them gently and lowered them so he could see her, tear-stained but still lovely. “I know.”
She blinked. “You do? And you still wish to marry me?”
He smiled at her. “Of course I do, Cecelia.”
“I…I…” She swallowed. “I feared you would think I had used you to get at your wealth. That I had…” she glanced around, ensuring their privacy before continuing in a quiet voice, “that I had lain with you in an effort to trap you into marriage.”
He scooted closer to her on the bench and put his hand to her warm face. “I know you, Cecelia. You would never do something so deceitful. Not the girl you were before, nor the woman you are now. You are too kind. No matter how wild your spirit, your heart has always been pure.”
She pulled in a soft breath. “You still wish to marry me?”
“More than anything else in the world.” He stroked his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a tear. “That is if you’ll have me, rake that I am. Stealer of Hermia. Charmer and flatterer…” He winked.
“Brave and handsome,” Cecelia added. “Loving and loyal.”
“I rather like where this conversation is going,” Philip teased, winning a laugh from Cecelia. “Marry me, my love.” He lowered himself to his knees in the soft grass at her feet and gazed up at her. “Say yes.”
The tears shone in Cecelia’s eyes once more, though this time he knew them to be from joy rather than sorrow.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
And there in the shade of the small tree, he drew her into his arms to kiss away any remaining hurt. To prove his love for her, which he intended to spend a lifetime reinforcing.
Epilogue
Seven years later
