Page 167 of Feathers in the Wind
She looked at him for a long moment before she said. “None of that matters to me. You are Luke Collyer, soldier of fortune and the man I love.”
He caught her in his arms and kissed her. As they broke apart, he drew her in closer, wrapping his arms around her. “And I am trying to summon the courage to ask your father for your hand in marriage. Will you marry me, Deliverance Felton?”
Her arms tightened around him. “I think that would be a terrible idea,” she said. “But if you're the best offer I'm ever likely to get, then yes.”
He laughed and looked down at her strong face with the beautiful eyes and sharp, determined chin. “Yes, I'm afraid you are stuck with me,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her.
And maybe, when all of this is over, you will be the Lady Deliverance Harcourt, mistress of a beautiful house in Warwickshire, that will bring you solace for the loss of Kinton Lacey, he thought.
Chapter 24
Luke stood at the door to the library, which had been turned back to its rightful owner, staring at the blackened studs in the old oak door. By his side, Deliverance fidgeted. He had never seen her so nervous and in truth riding into the teeth of enemy musket fire seemed less daunting than facing Sir John Felton. He squeezed her hand and knocked.
At Sir John's abrupt ‘Enter’, Deliverance put her hand to her chest and flattened herself against the wall.
They had agreed, after some argument, that Luke would face Sir John on his own, so he stepped into the familiar room, shutting the door ajar to allow Deliverance the opportunity of hearing what passed between himself and her father.
Sir John looked up. “What is it, Collyer?”
He sat at the table, now cleared of Deliverance's books and Luke's papers. A bottle of wine stood at his elbow and he appeared to be writing a lengthy report. Above him, the man’s portrait glowered as if sensing what business Luke had come about.
Luke came straight to the point. Sir John was not a man for idle chatter. “Sir, I would like to request your daughter's hand in marriage,” he said.
Sir John straightened in the chair, his face taking on the forbidding cast of his portrait above him. “Which daughter?”
Luke stared at the man. Which daughter? Penitence was betrothed. As far as he knew that left only one other.
“Deliverance,” he replied.
Sir John turned an interesting shade of puce. “Don't be ridiculous, Collyer. What on earth makes you think that I would let you marry my daughter, a man with your reputation?”
Luke swallowed. He had played this over in his mind and in every iteration, Sir John had stood and grasped him by the hand and wished him well.
“Sir, I assure you—”
Sir John rose to his feet, with a finger pointed at Luke's chest “I sent you here against my better judgment. I know all about your little escapade to Ludlow and how you deliberately endangered my daughter's life. If you think for one moment that I would hand her over to you… in marriage. Marriage! My daughter marry a scapegrace such as you?” Spittle formed at the corners of Sir John’s mouth as he spoke.
“I—” Luke got no further.
“First you get her shot and then you send her out as bait for that bastard, Farrington, to have his way with. She could have been killed, or worse. I was prepared to turn a blind eye to your lack of judgment but if I thought for a minute that you... you... If you have compromised my daughter's honour, Collyer, I warned you what would happen.”
Luke stared at Sir John. His mind had gone blank and he could think of nothing to say in his defence.
The door burst open and Deliverance entered, her anger matching her father's. “That wasn't how it was, Father, any of it. Luke saved my life.”
“Be quiet, Deliverance.” Her father roared her. “This man has taken advantage of your innocence and placed you in grave danger on more than one occasion. He is an irresponsible, womanising—”
“I want to marry him.” Deliverance's voice rose, choked with emotion. “You are letting Penitence marry Jack Farrington.”
“That is an entirely different case. They have been betrothed for years and Jack is a thoroughly respectable young man whereas this,” Felton waved a hand at Luke, “wastrel and whoremonger.” He straightened and ran his hands down his coat as if the gesture would erase his anger. In a more moderate tone, he said, “In the circumstance, Collyer I cannot permit you to spend another night under this roof. Barrett will take Farrington on to London. You can take the rest of your men and find service with the Earl of Essex. I never want to see your face again. I want you out of my home and away from my daughter by sundown tonight.”
“Luke! Do something.” Deliverance turned to him.
He knew what she wanted him to say but the words stuck in his throat. If he tried to speak the white anger that burned in his heart at the injustices just meted out to him would cause him to act intemperately. Memories of the arguments with his father flooded back, with their equally disastrous consequences. He needed to clear his head before he spoke another word.
He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
“Deliverance Felton, do not move!” Sir John said before the door slammed shut.
