Page 69 of The Gentleman’s Leading Lady

“I aim for what is well above me, I know.” He tightened his hands, drawing her closer.

She turned wary. “Bathsheba Baeccon?”

“Who?”

And just like that, she relaxed against him. “What are you asking me?”

He drew in a breath, preparing. “Can you see yourself here?”

A small line appeared between her brows. She rested her hands on his arms, not embracing fully, but not pushing away. Her skirt drifted around his legs.

“In this house?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he said, because he did not know how to say what he fully meant.

“That is… That is an enormous change. For both of us.”

She was not laughing with joy and amazement, melting into his arms. He knew she was the practical sort, and yet. He held himself carefully still, waiting for the knife.

“It would be,” he allowed. He couldn’t bare any more of his heart than that. Bathsheba had spurned him too easily. He was not a man women loved or doted on, too dour, too grim, too demanding.

Life without Cerys would be a wasteland, now that he knew she existed in the world. What was the point of building an enormous house without having love and laughter to fill it?

She turned and studied the clean, graceful lines of the room, her head tilted to one side. She saw what he’d been trying, all unconsciously, to achieve: a space that was grand but also welcoming. Elegant and comfortable together.

Much like the blend of grace and whimsy in the woman before him, who was built on the same strong, enduring lines. A man who won the devotion of Cerys Evans would have her loyalty forever, so long as he did nothing to prove himself undeserving.

She put her hands on her hips. “Would you ask me to give up the theater?”

He couldn’t breathe. She was negotiating with him. Testing. She was a woman who only carried her impetuosity so far.

“I wouldn’t ask you to part with anything you loved. Neither acquaintances nor—” He didn’t know what to call her work with the company.

“My career,” she said firmly.

“If that is what you wish. I will support you.”

“What about children?”

“Yes,” he said instantly, his breath caught at the notion.

She lifted her dark brows.

“Yes, I want them. Do you?”

She tapped a finger against her chin. A skylark swooped past the window, pouring out its song.

“I’ve always supposed I’ll have my own, at some point. Widow Jones says I’ve a strong impulse to take charge of others.”

He could see that. She looked after the other members of the company, in her own way. She’d have gone after her sobbing friend earlier if he hadn’t put a hand on her wrist, asking her to stay.

He was asking her now.

“So can you?” He took her hand and tugged her close again. Jasmine wafted around his nose, piercing his brain. “See yourself in this house. As its lady.” As my wife. He wasn’t eloquent enough to know how to phrase it any other way. Or say the words aloud, at last, and bare his chest to the blade.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “And you are the faithful sort?”

He stared at her, too taken back to be anything but honest. “I can’t see how a man would want any woman on earth but you.”