“Don’t be so prudish, Father,” Arabella said.
Lord Clavering shot her a disapproving look. “I see that your grandmother has been wearing off on you.”
“That she has,” Arabella confirmed.
As if on cue, Lady Langdon stepped into the drawing room. “Are congratulations in order?” she asked.
Arabella bobbed her head. “They are.”
Lady Langdon clasped her hands together. “That is wonderful news!” she exclaimed. “This is precisely the outcome that I was hoping for.”
Lord Clavering lifted his brow. “Dare I assume that you plied your hand at matchmaking?”
“I did, and it worked splendidly,” Lady Langdon said. “It was obvious that they belonged with one another.”
“Well, I, for one, thank you for your assistance,” Colin interjected. “Without your help, it might have been impossible to convince Arabella to marry me.”
“Your mother helped, as well,” Lady Langdon shared.
“That does not surprise me in the least,” Colin said.
Lord Clavering turned his attention towards his daughter. “It would be best if you return to London with me until the banns have been posted.”
Arabella glanced at him. “I would prefer to stay here.”
“Absolutely not!” Lord Clavering shouted. “I can’t trust that you will be properly chaperoned.”
“Grandmother has been an exemplary chaperone,” Arabella argued.
Lord Clavering huffed. “I truly doubt that. I’m surprised she hasn’t been following you around holding that blasted mistletoe over your heads.”
Colin spoke up. “Would it ease your mind if I went and acquired a special license from Town?” he asked. “That way we could be married at once.”
“It would,” Lord Clavering said.
Turning towards her, Colin asked, “Is this acceptable to you?”
“I would marry you today, tomorrow, or any day thereafter,” Arabella said. “I just never want to let you go.”
“I can assure you that the feeling is mutual,” he replied. “It might be best if I depart for London, then.”
“That would be wise.”
He leaned in and kissed her on her cheek, his lips lingering. “I shall not be long,” he murmured.
“I will be here, waiting for your return.”
Lord Clavering cleared his throat. “I believe you have properly said your goodbyes,” he scoffed. “You are going to be gone for a day, not going to war.”
Colin stepped back from Arabella. “I promise that I will return to you.”
“See that you do.”
Dear Margarette
Langdon Hall, Maidstone
December 30, 1815
