Eventually, as she felt drowsiness begin to overtake her, she moved.
She had thought he was asleep, but his arm moved at once, holding her in place. And his eyes were open.
“Will you stay?” he murmured. “Just for an hour.”
She settled back down, smiling into his shoulder. “Yes.”
***
She stayed for four. Dragan knew because he woke as she slid out of his bed before dawn. He didn’t stop her. She was his, but he would not embarrass her before the household. And they could each do with another hour or so of sleep before they faced the fight with her parents.
He smiled into the pillow, desiring her with a sweet, lazy lust. She was wonderful, his Griz, giving and passionate and beautiful. Oh yes, they would have such times together.
If she could stand the poverty.
Tomorrow’s fight. And there had never been anything or anyone more worth fighting for.
***
Three hours later, he and Griz stood before the duke in His Grace’s library. He had just asked formally for her hand.
The duke gazed from one to the other in some consternation. “When do you wish to marry?”
“As soon as possible. This week, next week. No later than next month.”
“But you have no means to support a wife,” the duke pointed out. “Do you?”
“No,” Dragan admitted. “Not really. Dr. Cordell pays me a little as his assistant, and I hope to work more for him in the immediate future. In the longer term, I mean to take the final medical exams.”
“I suppose you could live here if you are set on this course…”
Griz looked stunned by such an easy admission. “I also have a little money,” she said. “saved from allowances, and if you were to keep that allowance going, Papa, we could afford a small house. Probably.”
The duke eyed her just a little sardonically. “To keep up appearances as my daughter? It had probably better not to be too small a house, then.”
“I do not wish to be beholden,” Dragan said stiffly, aware that he nevertheless owed Griz some degree of the comfort she was used to. It just went against the grain to live off her.
“We can sort that out later,” Griz said, catching his fingers to implore his silence. “Then you do not object, Papa? We have your permission, if not your blessing?”
“I don’t like it,” he said. “You knew I wouldn’t.”
“Yes, but you want me to be happy and out of your hair,” she wheedled.
“Yes, I do. But will you be happy? You barely know each other.”
Griz laughed. “That’s the odd thing, Papa, we do.”
Before the duke could reply, the library door opened, and Lord Horace walked in.
“Ah, Tizsa, they said you were in here. Good morning,” he added to his father and sister. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“Tizsa has just asked for your sister’s hand.”
“Just as well from what Forsythe told me,” Horace said bluntly.
The duke blinked. “You are advising me to agree to this mad start?”
“You might as well, for she’ll do it anyway,” Horace said. “Besides, seems to me they understand each other, and she’s been a lot happier since they met. He might not prevent her crazy starts—in fact, he’ll probably join in—but he seems more capable than we are of bringing her off safe.”
“Why, Horace,” Griz said in some surprise. “You do observe human nature.”
The duke scowled. “He doesn’t even have a decent suit to marry her in!”
“Oh well, I daresay wedding gifts will take care of that,” Horace said vaguely. “But actually, I was looking for you, Tizsa, because I have a proposition.”
“What kind of proposition,” Dragan asked dubiously.
“I was impressed—my superiors were impressed—with the way you ferreted out the truth about Gabriel when the rest of us suspected nothing but that something wasn’t quite right somewhere.”
“Thank you,” Dragan replied. “I think.”
“We—Her Majesty’s government—would like to retain you to investigate similar problems that may arise.”
He felt Grizelda’s gaze on him, suddenly anxious. “What sort of problems?” he asked flatly. “I’ll not denounce people for speaking their mind against the government or help oppress people without hope.”
“I don’t ask it of you,” Horace said in apparent surprise. “I want to throw a few discrepancies at you. Discrepancies in my department and others, so that we can root out any…entitlement.”
“Corruption,” Griz corrected.
Horace scowled. “If you will. I doubt it will be constant work, however, so we’re also happy to recommend your discreet services to others who will also pay.”
Dragan liked puzzles. Even as he meant to pursue his final exams and some kind of career in medicine, he had been aware of his restless need of distraction. In Hungary, he had absorbed the revolution and war and his interest in art. And here, in his new life with Griz, there would be more puzzles.
His fingers entwined with Grizelda’s and held. He smiled. “Then, on agreed terms, I am happy to oblige.”
Griz laughed with sheer delight and hugged him, and he knew that against all the odds, he had found his new home.