Mel looked up at Rhys, who was watching the embrace with an expression of such raw tenderness that it made her chest ache.
“Did you teach them that?”
“I taught them many things.” He moved closer, until he was standing beside them, until Mel could feel the warmth of his presence without touching him.
“Most of them by negative example.”
“You’re getting better at positive examples.”
“I have an excellent teacher.”
Viola released Mel and stepped back, looking between her father and her governess with an expression of satisfaction.
“Are you going to kiss her now?” she asked.
Rhys choked. Mel felt her cheeks flush crimson.
“That is not, we haven’t, there are conversations that need to happen first,” Rhys managed.
“But you cherish each other. Kissing seems like the logical next step.”
“Matrimony is the logical next step,” Mel heard herself say.
“Kissing comes after.”
“Does that mean you’ll wed Papa?”
Mel looked at Rhys, at the hope blazing in his eyes, at the man who had finally found the courage to be honest about what he wanted.
“I’ll consider it,” she said. “After we’ve had several long conversations about expectations and practicalities and the many ways this could go wrong.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
“It sounds like a conditional yes, pending further discussion.”
Rhys laughed, the sound breaking free of him with evident relief.
“I’ll take a conditional yes. I’ll take anything you’re willing to give me.”
The thundering of footsteps on the stairs announced the return of Thistle and Anna. Thistle held the shell aloft like a trophy, while Anna carried what appeared to be Mel’s lesson plan book, which she had apparently retrieved from the schoolroom.
“I brought your shell!” Thistle announced. “And Anna brought your lesson plans because she said you’d need them if you’re staying.”
“That was very practical of her.”
“I’m always practical.” Anna handed over the book with dignity.
“Also, I’ve already begun planning the wedding. I estimate we’ll need approximately six weeks to prepare, assuming we want proper invitations and a suitable menu.”
“Anna…”
“I’ve also started a list of potential guests. It’s quite short, given the circumstances, but I believe quality is more important than quantity in these matters.”
Mel looked at the child before her, at the fierce intelligence and the desperate need to control chaos through organisation and planning. She recognised that impulse. She had spent most of her life employing it.
“We’ll discuss the guest list later,” she said. “For now, I believe you should all go back to bed. It’s still early, and the morning has been eventful.”
“But…”
