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“Yes, quite. Merely anxious to finally reach the task I’ve set for myself.” If he quick-marched her through the lower levels of the house, that wasn’t his intention, but he’d had his fill of the delays. In short order, darkness crept through the ground and the first floors of the townhouse. Silence gathered about them, heavy and comforting, and as light snow fell outside, he grabbed Felicity’s hand. “Come.” His order sounded overly loud in the emptiness.
“Where?” A touch of intrigue clung to her voice, and she held onto his fingers tighter. Was she afraid of the dark?
“You’ll see.” The only place in the house that would guarantee him privacy was his own rooms. Without delay, he led her to the top floor and then paused at the first door that led to his apartment. “Thank God Mother’s room is on the opposite end, along with Luke’s. She sleeps like the dead and snores besides, so we won’t wake her.”
She gasped. “We shouldn’t… It isn’t proper…” Her words trailed away as he pushed open the door and pulled her into his sitting room.
He snickered at her shock. No, it wasn’t proper, but if all went well, she’d be his fiancée and it wouldn’t matter. “We won’t be interrupted here.” He closed the door as softly as he could, turning the key in the lock after. Then it was his turn to gasp, for candles had been lit in tiny tin holders upon the Bavarian tree his mother had ordered into his rooms. The soft light twinkled off the glass balls and glimmered on the tin bells as well as the silver-shot red bows. “No doubt this was Mother’s doing.”
“It’s beautiful.” She glanced between him and the tree. “I only have fir boughs over the mantle in my room.”
“You know how Mother is.”
Perhaps his mother knew Felicity would never invite him there, and also knowing Mother, she wanted to drive home the sentimentality of the holiday while talking about romance and the future. For the first time, he didn’t mind her constant meddling. Then his confidence wavered about the edges. How did a man ask for a woman’s hand and heart? What if she rejected him like his first fiancée?
Cold fear wrapped around his heart and spine. Then he shoved all of that away. There was nothing for it except to confront the fear head on and speak the truth. “I never meant to hurt you when I offered you those papers two days ago.”
“Yet you did.” She retained her position near the tree that rested upon a low table near the door leading to his bedchamber. Sadness reflected in her eyes, lit and magnified by the candlelight. “That business is the last thing I have to remember my father by. It might be failing but it’s mine. And I might have made mistakes, but how else am I to learn?” She shook her head. “You had no right to take all of it from me.”
“No, I didn’t. I see that now, but please believe I only had the best intentions in mind.” Slowly, and with a hearty dose of caution, Bartholomew approached her. “I wanted to set your future so you wouldn’t constantly worry, and with funds in the bank, you’d have the world at your feet, security to fall back on while you made plans.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “I was so angry with you and perhaps at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because you would succeed when I failed, where I’d struggled for two years with the business.” She frowned. “Because you’re respected merely because you’re a man. I’m not given that same consideration.”
“Perhaps you should fly at them like a Valkyrie as you did upon first meeting me. That would properly terrify those men into compliance.” When his attempt at a joke fell flat, he sighed. “We can fix that.”
“How?” When she raised her gaze to his, anger snapped there. “You mean to run the business yourself with your first mate. Where do I fit into all of that?”
His intentions had been skewed. “I’ve gone about this wrong.” Since she apparently took comfort from actions instead of words, he removed the sheaf of paperwork from a drawer in a nearby table. “Let’s start over.” As she watched, he tore his solicitor’s work into small squares and let them fall onto the Aubusson carpet like snowflakes. “I’d like us to become partners—you, Daniel, and I—in Cowan Imports, for I realize now that you must be an integral part of the business.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, which only pushed those charms closer to the low scooped neckline of the gown. “How do I know you won’t eventually edge me out or buy out my share with another high-handed attempt at settling my future?”
“Because you won’t let me.” This wasn’t getting him closer to his goal, and she was so damned beautiful there beside the soft glow of the tree that he had no more defenses. “Let me put it to you in another way.” Daring much and offering all, Bartholomew dropped to one knee before her. “We’ve known each other for nearly ten days, but through my mother’s letters, I feel as if I’ve been aware of you for much longer than that.”
Her eyes rounded in shock. She relaxed her arms. “What are you doing?”
“Just this.” He caught one of her hands in his. “Over the course of knowing you, I discovered you’re exactly the type of woman I’ve always wanted in my life… as my wife.”
“What?” Surprise lingered in that one-word question and was mirrored in her eyes. “Surely you can’t be—”
“Ah, but I am.” Bartholomew grinned, for he enjoyed setting her at sixes and sevens. “I’m in love with you, Felicity. I’m falling deeper into that state with every passing day. I don’t know if it’s the magic of the season or my mother’s constant machinations to throw us together, but I’m quite certain I’ll soon be entirely distracted by you.”
“You love me.” It wasn’t a question.
“I do.” Unable to be parted from her even at that short distance, he struggled to his feet and then took both her hands in his. “I want you with me always, in whatever I do, and I certainly do want to move your father’s business forward without you having a part of it.”
“Oh.” She trembled. “I suppose I should tell you a secret of my own.”
“Yes?” Anticipation buzzed at the base of his spine.
The delicate tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “When you presented those papers to me, I was furious with you, for I thought you wanted the business more than you might want me.” A sheen of tears jumped into her eyes, rendering them luminous. “After the kisses and… other things we shared, I convinced myself you were only using me to pass the time, to wile away boredom, for how could any man desire a woman as plain and on the shelf as me?”
“Gammon. All gammon.” He drew one of her hands to his lips and kissed the gloved middle knuckle. “You’re easily the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen for years—in both looks and soul—and as for your alleged advanced years?” How easy it was to tug her close and into his arms. “In case you haven’t noticed, sweeting, I’m not exactly young. You’re the perfect age for me.” He brushed his lips over hers in a fleeting kiss. “You are perfect for me.”
“Oh, Bartholomew.” Felicity slipped her hands up his chest, and the heat she left behind seared into his skin. She held his head between her palms and stared into his eyes. “I feel much the same. The adventure, the thought of you entered my mind when I dictated some of your mother’s letters or listened as she’d read them aloud. But when I met you in person, argued with you—”
