my face, warm and strong. “Tillie.” He said my name in a quiet voice, and fresh tears pooled in my eyes. I never thought I would hear him say it.
My tears fell between his fingers. I laughed and sniffed at the same time, remembering my wet dress and boots and the state of my hair from being outside in the wind. Mr. Hill didn’t seem to care at all, his gaze sweeping my face with raw adoration. “Did you receive my letter?”
I nodded, pressing my lips together. “Just minutes ago. I have been a watering pot ever since.”
He chuckled, reminding me just how much I had missed the sound. His cheeks creased with his smile, his dark brows lifting. “Please assure me they are tears of joy.”
“Yes.” I laughed, a choked sound. “I daresay I have never been happier.” I didn’t have to explain to him the source of my happiness. The fact that he was here, that Papa was here, that he loved me enough to bring Papa home first. Jessie had been wrong—he hadn’t come to me first. He had selflessly done all he could to save my father because he knew that was what I truly needed. “What you did for my father…my words are not enough to express the gratitude I feel.”
He smiled down at me. “It was an honor to save an innocent man, and especially one who you love so dearly. I will ensure both your parents live comfortably for the rest of their days. Your father is ambitious and hard-working. There is no need to worry over his future. He is welcome to live in my home until he has found a new occupation.”
It seemed impossible, but my love and gratitude expanded at his words. “How can you be so generous and kind?”
“I learned from you, you know.” He smiled.
“Even after I deceived you.” I shook my head. “How can you forgive me?”
“I know you well enough to know that you would never hurt anyone intentionally. The moment I discovered that you were Miss Sedgwick’s maid, I knew you were not acting on your own will. It all explained why you were so insistent in your refusal of me.” He brushed a strand of hair off of my forehead, tracing his finger over the side of my face. His smile grew lopsided. “You wouldn’t have been able to resist my offer otherwise.”
My smile grew to match his—I could not have scowled at his teasing even if I wanted to. “Surely you know me well enough to know I am determined. Perhaps I would have.”
“Is that still your intention? Will you refuse me out of pride?” He leaned closer, one arm sliding around my waist, pulling me in.
“I suppose if you have set aside your pride for me, as you said in your letter, I ought to do the same for you.” I rested my hands on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against my palm, my hands rising and falling with his breathing.
“I spent the entire carriage ride planning my speech to you, but it seems you have already read it.”
“I will not stop you from saying it again.” I laughed, but it came out breathless. He was so close, his smiling lips just inches from my own.
He leaned his forehead against mine. “I think I would rather kiss you,” he mumbled.
“I will not stop you from doing that either.”
I watched his smile grow before his lips captured mine, his arms pulling me even closer. My hands slid over his chest and to the back of his neck, and I brought his head closer to ensure he knew without question that these kisses were willingly given, not stolen. His lips moved with certainty, and he kissed me as if he would never kiss me again, although I knew now that that wasn’t true. All the doubt I had felt was banished from my heart with each second, each kiss, until all I felt was loved and cherished and utterly adored.
“I love you,” I whispered against his lips. He tipped his forehead against mine. His chest rose and fell quickly beneath my palms, and he kissed my lips one last time, gentle and slow, before pulling back to look at my eyes.
“Does that mean you will marry me?”
I laughed, realizing I still hadn’t given him a direct answer. He watched me as if he were still afraid I would run away or refuse his offer.
“Yes.” I touched his cheek, tracing my thumb over the dimple that formed when he smiled. “But I do have two stipulations.”
His eyebrows lifted. “And what might they be?”
“You must never make me sing for any guests, no matter how it will amuse you.”
He tipped his head back with a laugh. “And the second?”
“You must never allow me near the tea tray until it is safely on the table.”
He chuckled again. “Surely you will find a way to tip it onto one of the guests either way.”
I smiled. “Only if Miss Downsfield pays us a call.”
His eyes widened. “Hmm. You are not very amiable this afternoon, are you?”
We laughed until my stomach ached and tears streamed from my eyes. Contrary to Miss Coppins’ belief, a heart could burst in other ways much less dangerous than what she so feared.
In that moment, with Mr. Hill’s arms around me, my heart was bursting with all the joy it wasn’t fit to contain, resulting in laughter that couldn’t be stopped, and a smile that ached on my cheeks.
More in the Seasons of Change series
Don’t miss the next book in the Seasons of Change series!
A Well-Trained Lady by Jess Heileman
Other books in the series:
The Road through Rushbury by Martha Keyes
A Forgiving Heart by Kasey Stockton
The Cottage by Coniston by Deborah M. Hathaway
A Haunting at Havenwood by Sally Britton
His Disinclined Bride by Jennie Goutet
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More books by Ashtyn Newbold
Larkhall Letters Series
The Ace of Hearts
Brides of Brighton Series
A Convenient Engagement
Marrying Miss Milton
Romancing Lord Ramsbury
Miss Weston’s Wager
An Unexpected Bride
Standalone novels
An Unwelcome Suitor
Mischief and Manors
Lies and Letters
Road to Rosewood
Novellas & Anthologies
The Earl’s Mistletoe Match
The Midnight Heiress
Unexpected Love
About the Author
Ashtyn Newbold grew up with a love of stories. When she discovered chick flicks and Jane Austen books in high school, she learned she was a sucker for romantic ones. When not indulging in sweet romantic comedies and regency period novels (and cookies), she writes romantic stories of her own across several genres. Ashtyn also enjoys baking, singing, sewing, and anything that involves creativity and imagination.
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