he labored alongside them as a boy, learning to manage his father’s estate, which was now his.
“Tonight is not the first time I have seen you.”
Those words caught her off guard. How? When? Where? “I do not understand. I have never come out, not one Season.”
“I am aware,” he said. “And perhaps that is one of the things I like most about you. You are not an empty-minded debutante and have never been exposed to the shallow natures those young ladies often have, or their scheming mamas.”
“But you have.”
“Yes, much to my disappointment.”
“And now we are here together, for whatever reason our parents chose us for each other,” she said.
“I am glad they did, for every time I observed you when I was in London, I knew you were meant for me.”
His passionate words warmed her heart, and she leaned closer to him, gazing up at him. “When did you see me last?”
“Six months ago, walking with your maid. Of course, you were still in mourning for your mother.”
“And before that?”
“More than a year ago. You were in Hyde Park riding. I followed you with Dexter, but you never noticed me or anyone around you. You were dedicated to mastering your riding technique, for I overheard you speaking with your brother.”
“You know him?”
“Yes, unfortunately, I do.”
She felt her throat constricting, fear seeping into her veins. “Does—does he know about our betrothal?”
“No. If he did, I am sure he would try and stop it.”
“But why?”
“We are not friends, Rose. In fact, we are rivals. We both own competing shipping companies.”
“He would try and ruin our happiness out of spite,” she commented.
“Is that what we share, happiness?” He scooped her hand up and held it tight, waiting for her next words.
Instead of speaking, she dared to touch one of his golden curls, twisting it around her fingers. “Your hair must be the envy of every woman you meet.”
“And every man will envy me for taking you as my wife.”
His warmth and strength wrapped around her, and suddenly she knew there was nothing more she wanted than to be his wife. Her beloved mother had given her the rarest of gifts, a chance at love.
“Tell me if your heart feels the same things your eyes express when you look at me, Rose.”
She could not withhold the truth from him and nodded.
“Rose…” He squeezed her hand and drew her closer, kissing her lips softly, like a whisper across her mouth. Then, with a shaky hand, he reached inside his greatcoat and pulled something out.
She did not know what to expect, really, for she had never spent time alone with a gentleman—only her father and brothers, and this was so different.
Richard shifted to his knees and placed his fingers under her chin, gently coaxing her to look at him. “Lady Rose Bennett, will you marry me? Make me the happiest of men? Give me the chance to show what love can do, how it can unite two people in happiness?”
Love. Happiness. A second chance at life. All in time for Christmas.
“What of Timothy?” She had to ask, for whatever Richard said would determine her answer.
“He will live with us, of course. He will have a brother and second sister to adore him.”
Unfettered joy unleashed inside her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. But what about…”
“Jen?” He laughed. “She will live with us, too.”
“You know about Jen?”
“I know everything,” he said. “Including how much I love you already. From the first time I laid eyes on you, from the first letters your mother and Lady Whitmore wrote to me about you, I knew you’d be the only woman for me.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as he placed a diamond and ruby ring on her finger, sealing their commitment to each other. And then, Richard tugged her into his arms and kissed her with all the passion she knew he had been holding back. His hands wandered up her back and down her arms, and she explored the expanse of his muscled back and shoulders, loving his strength and masculinity.
She was safe. She was loved. And she was home.
“Merry Christmas, Richard,” she said, leaning her forehead against his, gazing into his green eyes.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered. “Tomorrow, we will tell Lady Whitmore the good news. And once we help decorate the castle, we will take our vows under the mistletoe, and I will give you a proper kiss—the kind a husband gives his wife.”
They watched the sunrise, happy and content, their new life together blessed by the holy season.
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