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“Desperately,” he said. “Always.”
For the first time she smiled, a wobbly little smile. Her breath gave a hitch as hope sprung new within her. “Always?”
“Even when I thought I didn’t, I did. I’m an idiot, as Adam likes to tell me. Please don’t say it’s too late, Sophy. Marry me. I don’t think I could bear not to have you be my wife for the rest of my years. I’d only be half alive.”
Sophy gently brushed her fingers over his swollen eye. “Oh Harry.”
“It was worth it,” he assured her. “I’d do it again.”
She met his eyes, reading them, taking in his seriousness. He loved her, he wanted to marry her. His talk of giving up Pendleton … She wasn’t sure what to do about that. Or his father …
“Sir Arbuthnot,” she murmured.
He groaned. There was regret in his eyes now, and also a resolve she hadn’t seen for a long time.
“I hate him for what he did to us. To my father,” she added softly. “But he is your father and this will make him so angry.”
“Very,” he agreed. “But I am a grown man and I am of age. He can’t stop me.”
“He will use Pendleton to bring you to heel, Harry. He will disinherit you. I can’t let that—”
“I meant what I said, Sophy. When it comes to a choice between you and my inheritance then I choose you. I choose you, my love, every time.”
Until then she had struggled to believe it possible. Now, seeing his beloved face, so fierce and determined, hearing his vow to put her first, she believed it. Believed him.
“Say yes,” he said.
Sophy felt her smile growing. “Yes.”
Harry smiled back, wincing at the pain of his bruised face, and then leaned forward and kissed her. A kiss that took her all the way back to Pendleton three years earlier.
“Whatever comes next, we will deal with it,” he said firmly. “Nothing is impossible when we are together.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and tried not to think about Sir Arbuthnot or what he was capable of. Harry was with her and they could be strong. But could they be strong enough?
Chapter 29
SOPHY
“This is not what I hoped for.”
“I know, Geoffrey, but it’s what Sophy wants.”
Susan and Sir Geoffrey spoke in low voices, the latter with a cup of tea in his hands, and a plate at his side with cake on it. Her grandmother was in her usual chair, looking a little tired, and as Sophy entered the room she could not quite hide her feelings.
“Dear child,” she said. “Sit down. Tea?”
Sophy nodded although she didn’t want any. Her grandmother poured her a cup and held it out. Sir Geoffrey watched, his eyes sober.
“I have heard all about your midnight caller,” he said.
“One cannot accuse him of lack of enthusiasm,” Susan almost smiled.
Sir Geoffrey chuckled and then grew sombre again. “Unfortunately, your acceptance of Mr Baillieu’s proposal of marriage will involve you in his scandal. My sister has refused to chaperone you further and I am afraid I cannot blame her.”
“As much as I appreciate your sister’s help, I won’t need a chaperone anymore,” Sophy said in a determined voice. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you both, you have been so kind, but London society is not for me. I am like Harry in that way. I want to go home, to Pendleton Manor, and live my life with the man I love.”
Grandmother raised her eyebrows. “Do you think Sir Arbuthnot will allow that?”
