Part 34 (1/2)

Again, the faint smile. ”I daresay,” he answered. ”I am not sure I really care all that much anymore.”

Xanthia leaned forward on the bench, far enough to set her cheek against his. ”Then what do you care about, Stefan?” she whispered. ”I know I do not deserve it, but please, please, say that it is me.”

He turned his head, and set his lips near her ear. ”It is you, Zee,” he answered. ”It has always been you. I love you with my every fiber. I cannot seem to stop.”

She let one hand slide up his chest. ”I pray you never will stop,” she said with a catch in her voice. ”For I love you. I love you more than is wise, I know. But there is no use fighting it. There-it is said. I cannot live, I do not believe, without you in my life. Please, Stefan, please say that we can begin again? That we can pick up where we left off?”

”What, with a torrid, illicit affaire?” he murmured. ”No, my love. That is where I draw the line.”

Her hand still pressed against the warm wall of his chest, Xanthia drew back. ”What...sort of line?”

”A very dark, very thick one,” he answered firmly. ”Xanthia, I won't go back to that. I cannot. My love, I am very much afraid that...well, that you must marry me.”

”I...I beg your pardon?”

He tried to smile. ”I have grown a little tired of being used for my good looks and my-well, whatever other talents I possess,” he murmured. ”Yes, Zee, I am holding out for marriage.”

”For...marriage?”

He set his head to one side and studied her, his eyes anxious. ”That, I fear, is your only option,” he said quietly. ”What will it be, my girl? Am I worth it? Will you do it?”

The answer exploded from her lips. ”Yes!” Her arms were around his neck and her lips pressed to his face almost before the word was out. ”Yes, yes, oh, yes, Stefan! A thousand times, yes.”

He laughed, then set her away a little, his eyes roaming over her face. His expression was still grave. ”Are you sure, my love?” he asked quietly. ”We have not even talked about Neville's. We must, you know.”

She dropped her gaze. ”Yes, I know,” she answered. ”I love you, Stefan. I-I will do what I must to have you. And I know it is unreasonable-perhaps even scandalous-for me to continue on as I have, but I cannot give it up. Please. Not entirely. Help me find a way. Please?”

He was already shaking his head. ”Well, I will admit that I had hoped to persuade you to run Brierwood for me instead, but I will-”

”Brierwood?” she interjected.

He looked at her warily. ”Yes, had you not guessed?” he asked. ”That was why I invited you down, you know. I had hoped...but no, it won't do. I see it quite clearly now. You are a Neville through and through, and that business is yours.”

”Well, it will be yours if you marry me,” she murmured.

He shook his head. ”I do not want it,” he said. He released her right hand and withdrew a fold of papers from his coat pocket. Solemnly, he handed them to her.

She looked at him blankly. ”What are these?

”Legal papers,” he said. ”Papers which waive my right to your property upon our marriage.”

Amazed, she unfolded them. ”Can...can one do such a thing?”

”My solicitors are not perfectly sure,” he admitted. ”Certainly it is rare, but there are ways, perhaps. I think you must discuss this with your brother; perhaps even take the papers to your own solicitors. They may redraft them, if they please. If you will just marry me, Zee, I shall sign anything you put in front of me-and I would be disappointed, I think, if you wished to give up the running of your business.”

Xanthia stared at the papers in her lap. Even had there been enough light, she could not have read them for the tears welling in her eyes. ”And you will do it, then?” she asked. ”You would marry me...and let me go on as I am?”

He set a strong arm about her shoulders, and his familiar scent of smoke and citrus and warm, strong male surrounded her, comforting her as it always did. ”I fell in love with you, Zee, just as you are, did I not?” he asked. ”Why should I wish to change anything?”

She laughed, but it was more of a snuffle. ”But it will be thought scandalous,” she warned. ”And what of the children? You wish to have children, do you not? I do-desperately so.”

”Oh, I am accustomed to being thought scandalous,” he countered. ”I think I will take a perverse pleasure in continuing to do so. As to children, Zee, yes. I wish to have as many as you and G.o.d can be persuaded to bestow upon us. But we can hire servants to-”

”No,” she interjected. ”Servants will not raise my children.”

He brushed his lips across her forehead. ”Servants raise most all children, Zee,” he said gently. ”No one will think the worse of you for that.”

”My brothers raised me,” she countered. ”They ran businesses and plantations and, for a part of it, they were little more than children themselves. But they managed to do it.”

”And so shall we, then,” he answered. ”Together, Zee, we will think of something.”

She dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand. ”All right then,” she said. ”You resign yourself to a life with a woman who is thought outre, and to a houseful of children who will be haphazardly brought up. Do I have that right?”

”Absolutely, Miss Neville.” Nash leaned forward and kissed her nose. ”I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Xanthia lifted her chin, and caught his lips with hers. For a moment, silence fell across the little park. When at last they parted, she looked at him and said, ”When, Stefan? Soon, I hope.”

His eyes crinkled with humor. ”What are you doing tomorrow, my dear?”

Her eyes widened with delight. ”You cannot mean it?”

”I have the special license in my pocket,” he confirmed. ”Tomorrow, or next week. But please, no later than August, I beg you! And then, my lady, the Dangerous Wager awaits.”

”Does it indeed?” she whispered. ”Where do we go?”

”On a wedding trip, if you have time?” It was a question, not a command. ”I think we shall sail round Italy, then up the Adriatic to Montenegro.”

Xanthia kissed him again. ”I shall make time,” she promised breathlessly. ”Oh, for you, Stefan, I shall always, always make time.”

Epilogue Safe Harbor by the Thames No, not green silk.” Lady Phaedra Northampton's voice was sharp. ”It just won't do, I tell you.”

”But I have a vision.” Mr. Kemble was making an expansive gesture about the dark, grimy room, and all but ignoring her presence. ”This chamber simply must coordinate with Lady Nash's office opposite.”

”This isn't a chamber, Mr. Kemble,” said Lady Phaedra. ”It is a nightmare. A h.e.l.lhole. A hovel.”

”But I have a vision,” he repeated, both arms stretched heavenward. ”I see light! I see watered silk! I see swathes of brilliant color!”

”And I see a lunatic on the loose.”

With a sigh of mild exasperation, Xanthia lumbered from behind her desk, one hand on her belly, the other set at the small of her back, which was aching like the very devil. ”My dear Phaedra,” she said, crossing the pa.s.sageway into the newly emptied storage room. ”Must the two of you quarrel? Can we not settle this by compromise?”

”Zee, everything in life is not a business negotiation,” complained Lady Phaedra, both hands on her hips. ”Mr. Kemble is interested in no one's opinion but his own. He wants green silk hung on the walls.”

Kemble was still strolling to and fro over the worn floorboards, his eyes sweeping through the room. ”And coordinating draperies in b.u.t.ter cream,” he added, drawing his hands down a window in a long, dramatic gestures. ”Yes, toile de Jouy, I think-printed with little cows? Or dancing ponies?”

Lady Phaedra looked as if she might pull her own hair out. ”But the room, Mr. Kemble, is to be a nursery,” she returned. ”Have you any notion what a toddling babe will do to walls hung with green silk?”

Mr. Kemble stopped abruptly.

”And cream-colored toile?” Phaedra pressed.