Page 166 of Modern Romance Collection February 2025, 5-8

‘What are you saying?’ she asked faintly.

He dug into his trouser pocket, pulled out a box and handed it to her.

‘I was planning to give you this after dinner tonight, but things did not go according to plan. I’m saying, Clemmie, that I’m asking you to consider marrying me. I know I’ve blown it, the way I’ve handled this, but I’m used to making decisions, sorting out problems on my own. It’s hard to break the habit. If I have lost your trust, I’ll do my best to win it back—for as long as it takes.’

Clemmie opened the box and saw a ring sitting there. An aquamarine surrounded by diamonds.

‘It’s the colour of your eyes.’ He dropped into a squat beside the chair. ‘I love you, Clemmie. I think I always have. But I didn’t see it because I was trying to keep things the same. I was paranoid about change. I never realised that my marriage wouldn’t be like my parents’ becauseIam not like my parents. You have always been the one constant in my life. I want you to be the one constant in my future. I want to share that future with you.’

He looked at her, a question in his eyes.

She shook her head. She couldn’t speak. Her throat was choked up with emotion and with the joy that was singing through her veins as she slid the ring onto her finger.

‘It fits perfectly and I never, ever want to take it off!’

She slid out of the chair and they both rose to their feet together.

Arms around his neck, she gazed lovingly up into his eyes. ‘What happens now?’

‘We go to bed?’

‘That sounds like a plan. I have no idea what happens next, but I think we’re going to have fun finding out.

Much later that night, as they were lying in bed, he spoke. ‘I’ll just throw this out there...how about we get married by special licence tomorrow?’

She was tempted... But, ‘My mum would never forgive me. Nor your family.’

‘My family are not coming.’

‘We’ll talk about it later.’

‘No, we won’t.’

Two months later...

‘We must invite your family,’ Clemmie said as they strolled together through the gardens, past a carpet of irises, towards the spot that afforded the best view of the manor and to the new carved oak bench that had been placed there.

Could a house look happy?

As she stared at the honey-coloured stone it seemed to Clemmie that Maplehurst did.

She and Joaquin had been staying in the gatehouse, which now boasted a high-speed internet connection so he could work from home. It meant they were close at hand to supervise the ongoing refurbishment of the manor. Her mum had stayed on with Harry, who really did seem to be a keeper, and was keeping her options open about returning full-time to the gatehouse.

It had been a busy few weeks. As well as turning Maplehurst into their permanent home, Clemmie had taken on an active role in Joaquin’s literacy programme. She had accepted the job only on the understanding that it was arealjob. It was indeed real, and challenging enough to take up a large part of her day. But the hard work was counterbalanced by the fun bits, like delivering books to school children in deprived areas.

‘Why must we?’ he asked now.

‘Your parents would be humiliated if we didn’t.’

He shrugged, but when he met her earnest green eyes the cynical twist of his lips smoothed. He touched her cheek and kissed her parted lips.

‘We don’t want to sink to their level,’ she whispered against his lips as they drew apart.

She felt the laugh rumble in his chest.

‘All right, invite them,’ he said, philosophical about losing this war of attrition. His lip curled again. ‘But be warned: my father is still pinching bottoms, even from his electric wheelchair.’

‘You won’t regret it,’ she promised, stretching up to kiss him.

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