Dear Mum, subtle as ever.
“Alone at long last.” Mr. Kingsley claimed the vacated seat beside her and drew close enough to steal a sip of her tea. To steal her very breath. “As much as I respect Mrs. S., I’m afraid I can’t abide by her wishes in this case. For quite some time now I’ve longed to do something scandalous. Something I can resist no longer. Will you indulge me, Miss Stanton?”
Her blush intensified. “My good sir, whatever are you suggesting?”
Mr. Kingsley’s mouth parted in a grin. “I’m suggesting, my dear lady, that we order another round of dessert and thoroughly spoil our appetites for dinner.”
Clara raised a brow over the rim of her cup. Why, that cheeky hobgoblin. She attempted to bite back a smirk and failed miserably. “Those chocolate truffles were rather delectable.”
“Sinfully.”
She slanted a saucy look toward Mr. Kingsley. “If we’re going to ruin ourselves, we might as well do it properly.”
“Right-oh.” Mr. Kingsley summoned a waiter, and minutes later, their table was laden with a fresh pot of Darjeeling and a profusion of confectionary delights.
As the feast progressed, conversation veered once again to the subject of their youth. On their second day in Bern, Mr. Kingsley had revealed to them his noble ancestry and grim life at Kingsley Court. Yet even now, she struggled to comprehend the utter cruelty of his father, Lord Edgewood. Struggled to reconcile that the unassuming man before herwas, in fact, the eighth son of an earl. For in her mind, he would always be Mr. Kingsley.
HerTheodore.
The incredibly patient man whose question she was finally ready to answer.
Clara lowered her teacup. It was time to trust God with the final piece of her heart still clutched in her grasp. “Theodore, I—”
Jade eyes connected with her own, and the resulting blush melted Clara’s senses. Botheration, she couldn’t speak to the man if he insisted on looking at her in such a way. Tenderly and intimately, as though she were the only thing he wished to look upon for the rest of his days. It accentuated the handsomeness of his features and breadth of his shoulders to the point of distraction. There was only one thing to be done.
She shut her eyes. “Yes.”
“Yes ... what?” Confusion skewed Mr. Kingsley’s tone.
Was he quite serious? Clara’s eyes flashed open, and at the sight of the hobgoblin’s smirk, she swatted him soundly. “Yes, I accept your suit, Mr. Theodore Kingsley. When we return to London, you may call upon me as often as you wish. For I would like nothing better than to wake up every day and know you’ll be a part of it.”
A gleam illuminated Mr. Kingsley’s eyes, and he interlaced their fingers upon his knee. “My days are yours, Miss Clara Marie Stanton. Come storm or fair weather.”
Her heart swelled, and she rested her head against his shoulder as they watched the aquamarine river ribbon around the shoreline.
Mr. Kingsley’s chin nestled atop her head. “I suddenly find myself quite eager to set foot on English soil. To go home for good and all.”
Since he’d opened the door, she might as well broach thesubject now. “How would you feel about escorting Mum back to London unaccompanied?”
“Unaccompanied? Where are you going to be, I should wonder?”
“Oh, I’d be nearby.” She smiled. “Grand said I could fly the owl back to London.”
With a melodramatic huff, Mr. Kingsley eyed her warily. “I see how it is, you crafty minx. I pledge you my days, and then you soar off amongst the clouds, leaving me behind to wrangle your mother’s ever-growing menagerie.”
“Growing? Stars, what sort of creature has Mum rescued now?”
“A one-eyed kitten. She found the scrawny thing begging outside the inn yesterday.”
Clara shook her head with a chuckle. “Serves me right for having the audacity to take a nap. Where has she hidden the little stray?”
“Mrs. S. stowed the furry bag o’ bones in mine and Drosselmeyer’s room. A temporary arrangement, I was told, until she could find the opportune moment to tell you. I could hardly sleep last night for the mewing.”
“You poor man.” Clara cupped his face, tracing a gloved thumb along his temple. “Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Mum straightaway and tell her to leave the kitten in your room. The furry bag o’ bones should train you well for the time you’ll spend bedding down with three raucous fox kits and a snoring ermine.” Before he could protest, she rose and flounced toward the inn.
“Wait just one confounded minute.” A clanking against the cobbles signaled Mr. Kingsley’s anticipated pursuit. “I’ll follow you round the world happily and escort Mrs. S. with pride, but couldn’t you take a few members of her traveling zoo?”
Twirling about with a flourish, Clara grinned at her automaton suiter. “Right-oh. Since you asked nicely, I’ll take the turtle.”
