The Obsessions of Lord Godfrey - Stephanie Laurens Page 0,107
It was time.
Godfrey straightened and faced her father. “Sir, I would be honored to act for your family, but you need to know that…” He paused and held out his hand to Ellie. She took it and rose to stand by his side. Together, they faced her father as Godfrey continued, “I’ve asked Ellie to do me the honor of becoming my wife, and—”
“And,” she cut in, unable to hold back a beaming smile, “I’ve agreed.”
Her father sat back in his chair. His gaze scanned her face.
Ellie beamed and hoped he could see what was in her heart.
Her father’s lips slowly lifted, his expression lightening as he took in her happiness.
Godfrey tightened his grip on her hand. “Ellie and I hope you will give us your blessing, sir.”
Beaming now, her father studied them. “My daughter has finally made her choice, and I’m delighted—nay, thrilled—that she has found a gentleman such as you in which to place her trust.” He inclined his head to them. “You most definitely have my blessing.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Before Ellie could move to her father, Maggie squealed and flung herself into Ellie’s arms.
“I say! That’s great news.” Harry seized Godfrey’s hand and pumped it. He met Godfrey’s eyes and earnestly stated, “I know you’ll take good care of Ellie.”
“I intend to,” Godfrey replied. Of Ellie and all the Hinckleys.
He moved to Mr. Hinckley and grasped the hand the older man offered. “Your daughter is a pearl beyond price, sir. I will always treasure her.”
Mr. Hinckley nodded. “See that you do—but in truth, I have no doubt about that. For all you appreciate paintings, you’re one who understands that beauty reaches much deeper than the skin.”
Godfrey dipped his head in acknowledgment as his gaze returned to his bride-to-be.
Ellie finally managed to disengage from Maggie and Harry and bent to hug her father. “Thank you again, Papa. You won’t regret it.”
“Of course I won’t!” He patted her shoulder. “You’re obviously happy, and that’s all I ask.”
Beaming radiantly, Ellie straightened and looked at Godfrey—and he couldn’t help but beam back.
As he reclaimed her hand, Mr. Hinckley harrumphed. “Now then, what are your plans?”
They all sat again and, with the fabulous paintings quite forgotten, excitedly discussed the when and where of Godfrey and Ellie’s wedding.
At Mr. Hinckley’s suggestion, Harry rang for Kemp, and Mr. Hinckley informed that worthy of the family’s glad tidings and dispatched him to unearth a bottle of champagne from the cellar.
Kemp duly returned bearing the staff’s good wishes as well as a bottle and glasses. Soon, the others were toasting Godfrey and Ellie, then Godfrey made everyone laugh by proposing a toast to old Uncle Henry. “Because, when all is said and done, it was his eye for a good painting all those years ago that led to me coming to Hinckley Hall.”
They all raised their glasses, cheered, and drank.
Godfrey caught Ellie’s eye and raised his glass to her in a silent toast. Then he relaxed beside her and looked at the others—at their smiling, now-slightly-flushed faces and their transparent happiness and joy. Clasping Ellie’s hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers. “Thank you, my love, for bringing me this—for giving me this family.” He met her eyes and quietly stated, “This is what life’s truly about.”
That night, Godfrey and Ellie were the last to head upstairs.
Earlier, he had written the promised documents for Jeffers and left them as arranged on the hall table, then with Ellie pacing alongside, had pushed her father to his rooms on the ground floor, where his manservant had been waiting to assist him.
Now as, hand in hand, he and Ellie left the darkened front hall and, guided by the single lamp left burning on the landing, climbed the stairs, Godfrey looked within himself and found nothing but peace and contentment.
I’m happy—truly happy.
At the head of the stairs, when he would have turned toward his room, Ellie tugged, and when he halted and arched his brows at her, she smiled and led him in a different direction.
Curious, eager, he let her tow him through the gallery and down a corridor, let her draw him into a room that was redolent with the subtle perfume he associated with her.
The curtains had been drawn against the chilly night. A lamp stood softly glowing on a table by the wall and, together with the small fire burning in the grate, endeavored to cast a golden light over the room.
It was into that light that she led him—into that welcoming warmth.