Page 33 of On a Midsummer Night
“I do.” The two words were broken, his expression reverent. His arms drew her closer as if he could absorb her into his very skin. “Since I first kissed you in that garden, you’ve imprinted yourself on my soul. I’m so sorry that my father’s death—and my anger and grief—overshadowed that. My need to mend the tattered pieces of my pride became my sole focus, to the detriment of not only my relationship with you but with my mother and sister. Of my friendship with Oliver.”
Henry bent down then and snared her lips with his own. Beth looped her arms around his neck, every inch of their bodies touching. After several moments, he panted against her lips, his forehead resting against hers. “But you were the biggest victim of my pride. I’m so sorry.”
Her heart was full to overflowing. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, his eyelid, and his nose before kissing the corner of his mouth, Beth managed a tremulous smile. “Regardless of the railway’s unfair machinations or your brothers’ intentions, we can have a happy future together.”
A stricken expression settled on his features. “My brothers may make trouble, Beth. I can’t guarantee that marrying me wouldn’t bring scandal upon you. I don’t want to taint your good name.”
Raising her hands up to cup his cheeks, Beth kissed him, pouring every fervid emotion she had experienced in the wake of his disappearance, in watching his courtship of Lucy, in his emotional confession during the waltz. It was a kiss of love and forgiveness, redemption and hope.
“It’syourname I want to share, and I don’t care one whit about what scandal may come to me by wearing it.”
Henry closed his eyes, and she stroked her thumbs across his cheeks. She sensed his guilt, his fear about subjecting her to public disdain, but she hoped her touch assured him that she was not afraid. Beth had never been more certain.
“I love you, Henry Ramsgate.”
His eyes slid open, brindle pools filled with love and want. “Will you marry me, Beth? Will you embrace a future with me, no matter what lies ahead?”
“I was waiting for you to ask,” she whispered against his lips.
Chapter Eleven
The return trip to Dalton House had been a covert one. They maintained their silence out of necessity, but Henry kept her tucked along his side, squeezing her hand regularly. More than once, he pulled her into the shadows to kiss her and hold her close. When they arrived at the back entrance, Henry stared down at her, a sparkle in his eyes that even the dark could not hide.
“I’ll call on Oliver today and ask for his blessing.” His brow furrowed. “I should meet with your uncle as well, shouldn’t I?”
Beth winced. “I confess I’m worried he’ll be upset when he learns you’re marrying me, not Lucy.”
“Has your cousin not told him or Mrs. Dalton of her desire not to marry?”
“She hasn’t.” Beth fidgeted with the ribbons on her bonnet. “The poor dear hasn’t worked up the nerve yet.”
“Well, I refuse to wait for her to find the courage to do so because I want to marry you as soon as your parents can make the trip here for the wedding.” Henry frowned. “Or would you rather marry in Bristol? I know many people there love you.”
“Darling,” she whispered, blinking back tears. “London, Bristol, it matters not. As long as I’m your bride, I’ll marry you anywhere.”
His mien softened. “I wish I could take you back to my rooms and ravish you again, but we’re flirting with danger. Go rest, love, and I’ll visit tomorrow—well, later today. Perhaps with Oliver.”
“Oliver’s presence may be what keeps Uncle Charles and Aunt Meredith from becoming too vexed about the change of plans.”
“We can only hope.” Henry dipped his head until his lips hovered over hers. His proximity sent arousal shooting down her spine. “I will see you soon, my bride.”
Beth lingered on the back steps to watch him walk away until the darkness swallowed him, excitement about the events to come making her giddy.
That was until she arrived at the breakfast table a few hours later.
“I have sent our regrets to Mrs. Norwood that we will not be attending her soiree this evening,” Aunt Meredith announced as she stirred a sugar cube into her teacup.
Sluggish from a lack of sleep, Beth was slow to respond, but thankfully Lucy was not. “Why not, Mother?”
“Because we will be dining in. And I’ve sent invitations for your cousin Oliver”—Aunt Meredith raised a brow at her daughter before inexplicably sliding her gaze to Beth—“as well as Mr. Ramsgate to join us.”
Exhaustion fled in a torrent of nerves, but Beth endeavored not to appear overly curious.
“Oh,” Lucy responded with a flutter of blonde eyelashes. “I’m sure with two such guests that it will be a pleasant evening.”
“The only way it will truly be pleasant is if Mr. Ramsgate finally comes up to snuff.” Aunt Meredith set down her teacup with a clink of bone china. “He’s been paying you court for weeks now, and it’s time for it to be official. Your father and I intend to make such things clear to him, and we hope Oliver, as Mr. Ramsgate’s old friend, will aid us.”
With her palms growing clammy, Beth carefully set her coffee cup aside. She should have known that Aunt Meredith would press the issue of a marriage between Lucy and Henry, and should have encouraged her cousin to be honest with her parents sooner. Now they were faced with an impossible scenario, and should they believe she had stolen Henry away from her cousin, they could potentially ask Beth to vacate Dalton House.
