Chapter 39
As promised, Calliope and her mother’s trunks were loaded in the back of the car within the hour, along with Tommy’s.
The chauffeur was waiting, the footmen and the maids all set in a row to see them off, and in front of them stood Edward’s Scottish relatives, looking sorry to see her go.
Even the dowager countess seemed disappointed, though she hid it well behind a practiced smile and a regal tilt of her head.
Only Edward was nowhere to be seen.
Mrs. Hart was saying her goodbyes to the dowager countess while Tommy pitched his firm to Aesop and Bethilda, ensuring them he would be in correspondence with them about any questions they might have.
Meanwhile, Calliope’s gaze swept the grounds, searching for the one person she wanted to see before she left.
“Safe travels, Calliope,” Tilly said in an overly rehearsed manner as she stepped forward, sounding as though she were working on sounding older and more mature than she actually was.
“Thank you, Tilly,” Calliope replied. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Please keep in touch. I’d love to hear how you get on.”
Tilly bit her lip as if debating something. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she wrapped Calliope up in a little girl hug that melted Calliope’s heart.
“I thought it would be you,” Tilly whispered. “To marry Edward. I hoped it would be you.”
Calliope tried to find the words to tell Tilly that a part of her had thought the same thing, but sometimes love wasn’t enough to get over every obstacle that stood in its way.
But how could she convey all of that when Tilly was already pulling away under the surprised stare of the dowager countess and when Calliope herself didn’t know how she felt about any of it anymore?
A dream that has been allowed to change is not the same thing as a dream deferred.
After saying her goodbyes to Aesop, who told her to “be a good lassie,” and Bethilda, who accidentally said her farewell to Tilly instead, Calliope moved on to the dowager countess.
Margaret Chase gave her a kind, if disappointed, smile. “We would love to have you back, Miss Hart. Anytime.”
“Thank you, Your Ladyship. It was a wonderful visit.”
The dowager noticed Calliope’s wandering gaze.
“I’m sorry my son has not come to see you off,” she told her. “It’s most unlike him.”
“That’s all right,” Calliope replied, thinking it was probably better that way. She wasn’t certain she’d be able to get in the motorcar if he’d been standing right there in front of her. “Perhaps he’ll write his farewell. Our butler in Mayfair can forward it on to our address in New York.”
The dowager countess nodded. “I’ll let him know.”
She waited a moment longer, searching for him. Hoping he would emerge from the trees. The leaves rustled in the wind, and the birds sang from their branches, just as they did in Hyde Park when Edward set their deal into motion, but he did not appear.
Swallowing her disappointment, Calliope respectfully bowed her head to the dowager and turned to follow Tommy and her mother into the car.
The engine roared and the gravel crunched as the chauffeur pulled away from the house. Calliope watched it pass by out her window, as well as the fields Edward had shown her, and the lawn they had raced across on horseback.
“So, Thomas,” Mrs. Hart said, interrupting Calliope’s memories, her tone cold and unflinching. “My daughter tells me you’ve proposed.”
Tommy’s lips twitched into his usual, charming grin as he took Calliope’s hand. “I have.”
Mrs. Hart arched a brow. “All right, then. Tell me your prospects.”
Tommy laughed. “You can’t be serious.”
But when her mother only continued to stare, he sobered, launching into a detailed analysis of his financial position and social standing, as well as his intention to ensure her daughter’s every happiness. Calliope only half-listened, for the car had taken a turn, bringing the lake into view.
Their lake.
And Edward was there, fishing pole in hand.
I’m going to find a husband who enjoys fishing, or I won’t marry at all.
And suddenly, everything Edward said to her last night and everything they’d shared over the past few weeks slammed into her brain all at once. It meant too much.
He meant too much.
She couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.
She ordered the chauffeur to stop the car, then scrambled to get out, much the same as she did the first night she met Edward at Whitefawn’s Annual Summer Ball.
“Calliope?” her mother squealed as Calliope flung open the passenger door. “What are you doing? You’re not going to be sick again, are you?”
Calliope didn’t answer her. She slammed the door closed and ran with everything she had.
Hearing her approach, Edward turned, his expression unreadable.
“You didn’t come to say goodbye,” she told him as she drew near.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t.”
She slowed, her arms crossed protectively over her chest as she continued forward, holding herself together as the pain of leaving him threatened to split her in two.
“Why not?”
His jaw tensed. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“No,” she said, defiantly. “I don’t.”
“Because I can’t say good-bye to you, Calliope. It’s too hard.”
Her gaze raked over him, studying him. Trying to piece together everything she knew about him and everything they’d shared since the night they’d met. “I have to know something.”
“I am an open book, Calliope,” he said, repeating the words he’d spoken to her as he’d shown her Whitefawn’s grounds on horseback. “Ask away.”
“When you rescinded your proposal last night,” she began, “was that a game?”
He frowned. “How could it be? What advantage could there be in letting you go?”
She took another step forward, so that the tips of their shoes were almost touching. “You really want my happiness above all else?”
His voice softened as he stared down at her. “Yes.”
“And Whitefawn?” she prodded. “Are you really going to try to save it yourself, instead of marrying another heiress?”
He scoffed, a brittle sound. “How could I marry someone else when my heart has been etched with your name?”
A slow smile spread across her face. Their relationship might have begun because he needed her money, but the fact that he would give it all up now meant his love for her was true, and suddenly the details of what their future would look like no longer mattered.
All that mattered was that they discover it together.
“Good,” she said, taking her hand in his. “Because I want to be the heiress you marry.”
Edward shook his head as if he couldn’t have possibly heard her right. “What?”
“Unless your proposal is still rescinded, but if it is not . . .”
She took a deep breath.
And leaped.
“I want to marry you, Edward. As soon as possible.”
Hope lit his eyes, but he quickly shuttered it, shaking his head. “Is it because your mother is forcing you?”
Calliope laughed. “No. It is because no life is worth having—not one in New York nor one here—that doesn’t have you in it.
” She gazed up at him from beneath her lashes.
“I love you, Edward. I don’t want to spend another second of my life without you.
Please, do me the honor of making me your bride. ”
Joy erupted across Edward’s face. He reached for her, threading his fingers through her hair and drawing her close. “The honor is all mine, my love. All mine.”
And then, with her mother whooping in delight from the car, Edward swept Calliope into his arms and twirled her beneath an azure-blue sky that held the promise of rain in the purpling clouds on its horizon.
His was no longer a proposal of convenience, but a proposal of the heart, and she could not wait to take him as her husband and begin their life together, for nothing in all the world—neither Manhattan nor Newport nor Tuxedo Park—could compare to the way she felt here, safely nestled in his arms.
Setting her down, he turned her face to his and pressed his lips against her own.
“I was thinking,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to meet her gaze.
She grinned. “About what?”
“Our honeymoon,” he said. “How do you feel about autumn in New York?”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“I know the fashionable thing is to take up residence in the South of France, but I thought we could spend our first months as husband and wife tending to the articles you’ve been neglecting since your arrival here.” He smirked. “I make a wonderful secretary.”
Calliope laughed. “Do you now?”
“We can spend our days in libraries, poring over whatever research you need, and our nights—”
“In darkened opera boxes?”
He exhaled. “Precisely.”
“And after? How will we occupy our time once we return?”
“I was thinking about that, too. We will see to the running of the estate, of course, but there are plenty of other buildings that need the support your writing could provide here in England, same as New York. Perhaps you could continue your crusade to save historic landmarks here?”
“I had the same thought,” she replied, brushing a lock of hair from his brow. “But what about our six children?”
“They’ll be my undersecretaries. I am sure our research will be extensive, and I could use the extra sets of hands.”
Her smile grew brighter at the image he conjured. “And who will care for the estate while we are in New York on honeymoon?”
“I was thinking your father might enjoy staying on after the wedding. From what I hear, he has the head for finances that Whitefawn needs, as well as a love of nature. I think, together, he and I could right the ship. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Tears glistened in Calliope’s eyes. “It sounds perfect, Edward. Completely and utterly and enchantingly perfect.”
He bent his head to hers. “Then let’s start our forever now.”
He kissed her again as, in the distance, Calliope heard her mother ordering the chauffeur to take her and Calliope’s things back to the house. They had a wedding to plan.
Calliope imagined Tommy was disappointed.
She knew she would have to apologize and explain herself, let him down as easily as possible and pray their friendship would survive this hurdle.
But she did not imagine there was a single person in this world who could bounce back from disappointment like her dear friend, and while she did not doubt his feelings for her, she also knew there would be a line of debutantes waiting to take his mind off her once he returned to New York.
She only hoped he would accept her invitation to stay for the wedding and that Charlie and Lenore would be able to join him.
But for now, Calliope put all of those thoughts out of her mind and allowed herself to melt into Edward’s embrace, finally knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that every day spent as his countess would be better than the last, because he would be hers and she would be his.
Finally, blessedly, eternally his.
And there was nothing on earth that could compete with that.