Page 87 of The Trouble with Tweed

William narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the polished desktop.

Michael cleared his throat when he realized that the man wasn’t going to help him along in this endeavor. He continued, “I’d like your blessing to ask Claire for her hand in marriage.”

William arched a brow. “I have it on excellent authority that you’ve already asked her.”

He frowned—there was no way Claire had informed him, so how had he known?

William shook his head as if he’d read the question on Michael’s face. “It doesn’t matter how I found out. Is it true?”

Just then, Beatrice barged in, tears streaming down her face. Michael was half out of his chair in an instant at the sight of her distress. William didn’t seem fazed at all, and after a second, Michael sat again. Perhaps this was a normal occurrence he wasn’t privy to.

“William, I’m so very upset about—” Beatrice paused, looking about the room. Spotting Michael, she said, somewhat triumphantly, “About not having a serious suitor this Season!”

“Is this about the tiaras?” William asked blandly.

Beatrice nodded even as she wiped her running nose with a handkerchief.

“What kind do you want?”

“Emeralds suit me best,” she said breathlessly, her red-rimmed eyes still streaking tears.

“Very well. Get out.” William flicked a hand in the direction of the door.

Beatrice turned and fled.

William turned back to Michael. “Now, where were we?”

Michael decided it would be best if he didn’t pretend he’d forgotten. He straightened in his chair and said, “I did ask Claire to marry me already, and she’s said yes.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you love her?”

“I do.” Michael said the words with all the sincerity he planned on using in front of the minister, hopefully in the very near future.

“Very well.” William shooed him away, already turning back to his ledgers. “Welcome to the family and all that. Fair warning, we’re a bit mad.”

CHAPTER 29- CLAIRE

They ended up in the library, the nearest room in the house that wasn’t occupied at the moment. Nearly the instant the door was closed behind them, Michael was on one knee.

“That’s quite abrupt,” Claire said, blinking, but she couldn’t help the wide smile that stole over her face. She didn’t care if she was grinning like a fool at the moment; her delight was too complete to hide.

“I’m afraid that if I don’t propose immediately, we’ll have another repeat of the garden at the ball.”

“I quite enjoyed our interlude in the garden,” Claire said, though her own words made her blush. “I’ve thought of it fondly many times since.”

“I was afraid my actions the other evening may have led you to believe that I’m the rake you always thought I was.”

Claire was still grinning. “Not in the least, though my actions may have led you to lump me in with the Dowager Countess Berkshire.”

“On the contrary,” Michael said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Her advances were completely unwelcome, and I eagerly await the renewal of yours.”

Now Claire did blush, and she shook her head just as Michael captured her fingers in his hand.

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and earnest, a gentle smile upon his face. “Claire, I’m not sure when I fell in love with you, as it has been many years since I recognized that emotion within myself. There’s never been another who has so much as turned my head. For me there has only ever been you. You are the most intelligent, beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Though I don’t feel worthy of you, I hope that you’ll condescend to make this uneven match regardless.”

Claire pressed her lips together. It was so like Michael to make her laugh, even in the middle of his proposal.

“Claire,” he said once more, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze, “will you please overlook my rakish tendencies where you’re concerned and make an honest man out of me? Will you please be my wife?”