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Her whole body sizzled. “David, isn’t this a little bit sudden?”
“Not really. It’s been twenty years in the making.”
“Oh, David.”
“Is that a yes?”
How she wanted to pounce on him and accept. But, “Well, there’s just so much to consider. My girls, for one. They’re the most important things in my life, and I couldn’t make this decision without… And I have nothing to offer you, David. Nothing. Longarry left us penniless. If it weren’t for Flora and Crispin, we would be out on the streets.”
“What about your parents?”
“My mother died ten years ago, and my father lives alone in London. Neither Flora nor I see him. I’ll never forgive him for marrying me off to Longarry.”
“So your sister knows the whole situation?”
“Yes, she does now. She knew I wasn’t happy, but she didn’t know the whole truth until Longarry died.”
“When will you tell me the whole truth, my Iris?”
“David… Later, all right?”
He stroked her cheek tenderly. “All right. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I still want you to be my wife.”
“But the girls. Crispin gave them dowries. I don’t know how I will ever repay him for that.”
“I’ll give them dowries. I’ll take care of all of you now.”
“But what of your own children?”
“My children will not suffer, I promise you. We are well off. Jacob and Evan both receive substantial annual allowances, and Miranda married well and is no longer my responsibility. I have plenty, darling, and I want to share it with you.”
Iris sniffed, her eyes misting. “But I have nothing, David.”
“How can you say that? You have yourself. You’re are all I’ve dreamed of for twenty years.”
“I’m afraid I come with a lot o
f…baggage.”
“I’m not afraid of baggage, my Iris. The only fear I have is losing you again.”
She smiled weakly, her heart pounding. “Oh, David. I do love you.”
“Then you’ll be my wife?”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes!” She kissed his face, his neck, his chest. “I never thought I’d know true happiness.”
“Nor did I, my love. But we both will. For the rest of our lives.”
Iris leaped out of bed. “I want to bathe and dress. I want to go downstairs and tell everyone our news.”
David chuckled softly. “Whatever you wish.”
* * * *
Cameron busily scraped his quill on parchment, putting the last notation on his ballad for Rose. He titled it Wandering Rose, in memory of how she had danced before him in her sheer pink veiling in his dream. Dawn had broken several hours before, and he heard Tricia stirring in her chamber. He had been up for hours, working through the tune on the pianoforte and scribbling notes and chords. The work was nearly complete. It was both the easiest and the most difficult piece he’d ever written.
“Do you want some tea, Cam?” Tricia asked, padding out into the sitting room in her nightdress.
