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Louisa shrank back again, visibly shaking.
The Dowager stepped towards her. “How old are you, child?”
Louisa blinked, a little afraid at being addressed by the Dowager.
“What?”
“How old are you. Quickly, it’s important.”
“I… I am twenty-one.”
“Excellent. Then you are legally of age, and your grandfather cannot compel you to do anything. Do you want to stay here?” The Dowager asked coolly.
Louisa’s eyes widened. “Stay… stay here? What would I do?”
“We can work that out later, but I think it’s safe to say you’d be happier and safer with us than you would with your awful grandfather. We’d keep you safe, and make sure you were able to care for yourself. What do you say?”
Louisa drew in a shaky breath. “I’d like to stay.”
“Good.” The Dowager turned to Lord Nicholas. “You may go now.”
“Not without my granddaughter.”
The Dowager sighed. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll be obliged to set my grandson on you. We can wait until my other grandson – you called him a street rat, didn’t you? – returns, and he can throw you out too. How does that sound?”
Lord Nicholas was entirely defeated. He stuttered out a curse and spat on the carpet, then stormed out. The door was closed and locked behind him, and the Dowager sat heavily down in a seat.
“Thank heavens.” She gasped. “That’s over. Louisa, this man of yours – Owen, wasn’t it? You want to marry him?”
Louisa nodded eagerly. “And he wants to marry me, your ladyship. He… he’s inherited a farm from his father. I have the address. It’s nothing much, but it’ll support us. He asked me to marry him, and that’s when Grandfather threw him out without a reference.”
The Dowager nodded. “Then it shall be arranged, don’t worry about it. Here, I shall find you a room and a hot bath.”
Benedict cleared his throat, and the Dowager glanced questioningly at them.
“Yes?”
“Grandmother, you should know that I asked Rosaline to marry me.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And you need my permission?”
“No, but I should like your blessing.”
She nodded, glancing between the two of them. “I suppose I was rather cruel earlier. I’m sorry that I was so eager to believe badly of you, Miss Wyre. I’m sorry that I tried to bargain away my grandson’s hand in marriage for my own pride and fear. I have a lot of apologies to make, it seems. Can you ever forgive me – both of you?”
“Grandmother, you are the victim here.” Benedict murmured. “I am not angry at you, and of course I forgive you.”
The Dowager glanced at Rosaline, who bit her lip.
“Ihave nothing to forgive.” She answered simply, and the Dowager sighed in relief.
“Iam glad. Of course I give you my blessing.” She smiled weakly at them both. “I wish you all the happiness in the world.
EPILOGUE
TWO MONTHS LATER
It really was a beautiful day for a wedding.
