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Your loving daughter,
Emily
* * * *
The next afternoon, feeling much restored in body and spirit, Emily went to see how Roz and Phil and the baby were doing. She sat with Roz in a sunny corner of Roz’s bedroom, while, against common practice, Roz put the baby to her breast. Roz explained with a blush how much she delighted in the closeness with her baby and how he went from eating to sleeping and back again. She sounded so competent, so knowledgeable about her child that Emily again marveled at her sister.
“He’s demanding then,” Emily said as she watched her tiny nephew doze off in his mother’s arms. Roz had a happy tired look, but a tired look nonetheless.
“Very, but he will sleep now for an hour or more.”
“Then you should, too. Let me take him while you rest.”
“Would you like to, Em?”
“I would. I’ll leave you to yourself and call the nurse if I need help with him.”
Roz agreed, and Emily took up her sleeping nephew and descended to Roz’s drawing room. The body, she thought, continued to offer unexpected pleasures like the feel of a trusting babe asleep on one’s chest.
She stared at the back of the green damask sofa and lost track of time trying to fix in her mind the impressions of the previous two weeks. After a little time, however, she realized that the sofa had been restored to its original place in the room, and that it was occupied. Her heart gave a little skip, and the sleeping babe jerked his arm and settled again.
Emily rose slowly, her legs a bit shaky under her, and crossed the room to peek over the sofa back.
Lynley looked up at her with a grin. “I knew you’d come here.” He rolled to his feet and stood. “I’ve been to see your father,” he said. “You and I have some business to attend to.” He looked solemn.
“Oh?”
“And—” He reached for her hand. She lifted it from the baby and Lynley guided her back to her seat. He held her hand a moment longer to remove the ring he had given her a fortnight earlier. She didn’t cry out, though her hand felt instantly bereft.
“I’m going to propose again,” he said, kneeling down on one knee, still holding her hand. “I’ve compromised you irreparably. Even I know that. But that’s not the reason I’m proposing.”
“It’s not?”
“No. This time I’m proposing because I love you wholly, completely, without reserve.” He looked very solemn. “You are necessary to my happiness.”
Emily’s heart skipped in little country-dance steps of joy. The baby turned his head against her chest. Lynley spoke of happiness, and she knew he would not do so if he had not driven away the demons of the past. She smiled encouragingly.
“I want you to be my partner in life,” he went on, “long after we finish catching spies.”
“Are we going to catch more spies?”
“We are. You made a strong impression on Goldsworthy. He’s willing to admit you as the first female spy in the club.”
“I’ll have assignments?”
“We will,” he insisted. “As partners.”
“And? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“Well, you do have to agree never to write to the Times about the club.”
“I see.” She looked down at her hand in his large, strong one.
He gave her hand a little shake. “Can we get back to the matter before us?”
“Which is?”
“My proposal. Will you marry me?”
