Page 85 of The Gentleman’s Leading Lady

“You love me.” The words came out strangled. Was he going dumb with joy? His thoughts crumbled apart. A warm surge filled his chest.

“Is it hard to believe? We have only known each other a matter of weeks. But you are so very adorable. And I am certain I can persuade you to fall in love with me, and forget all about Bathsheba Baeccon, even though⁠—”

“Cerys, my perfect love,” he said gently. “Step away from the door.”

“Why?” She sounded hurt. “Are you leaving me too?”

“I am going to break it down.”

“Oh.” A rustle sounded, then her voice, further away. “Carry on, then.”

Dante had never been a brawler. Save for the time Tom Thompson had insulted Daniele and pulled her hair, he had never attacked anything in his life. But this door stood before him and Cerys. He had never in his life thanked God for his size, until now.

He pulled back his leg, balanced, and kicked at the door.

The lock creaked but didn’t budge.

“Is it working?” she called.

Rage swelled within him. This door was every taunt and insult leveled against him that he had not been born a gentleman. It was every scornful remark that dropped from his father’s lips because Dante could only draw, not sculpt. It was every cut his mother had received from those who thought she married beneath her. It was every commission he had not gotten because he was half-Italian, and it was every time a gentleman’s name had been published as the architect on a project although Dante had done all the work.

This door was everything that stood between him and his dreams, and now it separated him from Cerys. He would not stop until that door was down. In this moment, he was Samson at the Temple of Dagon, bringing down the Philistines.

He kicked, and kicked, and kicked again, the impact jarring up his leg and thigh, but rage goaded him on, and the prize inside. The door shuddered, splintered around the lock, and then the whole portal parted from its hinges and fell inward with a crash.

For a moment there was no movement but the scuffle of fleeing mice. Then a dim shape appeared, one hand held before her. “Dante?”

He stepped forward. “I’m here.”

And then she was pressed to his chest, face against his shoulder, and he closed his arms around her. She was whole. She was unhurt. She was safe now, and he would never let her go. The night closed about them, warm and fragrant.

“You want to marry me,” he said hoarsely, cradling her head, stroking her back, running his hands through her hair, which flowed over her shoulders free of pins and the clever little hat. Jasmine and softness filled his senses. His chest swelled with joy.

“I do, I do. And we will live in that beautiful house, and have children, rooms full of children. Little boys who dream of making art, and little girls with your scowl.”

He couldn’t speak, could only hold her, this woman who had made his life complete.

“That’s all right, then,” was all he could say.

“Cerys, my little potato flower.” Her mother’s voice came from behind Dante’s shoulder. No doubt she wanted to hold her daughter, too, but Dante wasn’t ready to let go.

Cerys stilled. “I’m not alone, my love,” Dante said gently. “Look up.”

She pulled her face from his shoulder and peered behind him, searching the dark drive. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re here. You’re all here.” She reached her arms around Dante, stretching her hands toward her mother, and burst into tears.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Ideclare, I never heard such utter villainy in my life.” Lady Diana sat in her favorite chair in the grand salon of Suffolk House, restored from a theater to a formal parlor once more. Candles burned from every sconce and bracket, and a fire in the grate threw heat, even though, at the other end of the room, the gentlemen had opened one of the tall doors to the terrace so the smoke from their cigars could issue out of it.

“She took you to the abandoned Royal Spa, pretended she’d been set upon by thieves, and left you there?” Diana repeated.

“Then told Mr. Manelli that I had run away with a lover,” Cerys confirmed.

Diana snorted. “That takes a nerve. I never thought much of that woman. I’ll see that she’s cut everywhere for the rest of the Season, never you fear.”

“I hear she and Lord Baeccon are withdrawing to their castle in the north, so we will be free of her.” Cerys sat opposite Lady Diana on the chaise longue with its scrolled back. Her mother sat on one side and had been beside Cerys for most of the day since Dante had rescued her.