CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“The capital of Austria is Vienna, not Venice. Venice is in Italy.”
Mel’s correction was delivered with the patient precision she applied to all educational matters, her finger tapping the map spread across the schoolroom table. Thistle squinted at the locations in question, clearly unconvinced that such a distinction mattered.
“They both start with V. And they’re both in Europe. I don’t see why it matters which is which.”
“It matters because accuracy matters. If you were attempting to travel to Vienna and ended up in Venice, you would be quite far from your intended destination.”
“But I would be in Venice, which has canals and boats. That seems like a reasonable trade.”
Rhys watched from his usual chair in the corner, ostensibly reviewing estate correspondence but actually giving most of his attention to the lesson unfolding before him.
He had been sitting in on schoolroom sessions with increasing frequency, telling himself it was for the children’s benefit but knowing that the real reason was simpler: he wanted to be where they were, where she was.
Mel had accepted his presence with her characteristic practicality, adjusting her teaching methods to accommodate an adult observer without allowing him to disrupt the educational objectives.
The children had accepted it with varying degrees of enthusiasm, Thistle viewing him as a potential ally against unreasonable geographical requirements, Anna treating him as an additional student to be evaluated, and Viola simply seeming pleased that he was there.
It had been two weeks since his announcement about permanent residence.
Two weeks of settling into a rhythm that felt more like home than anything he had experienced in his adult life.
The wedding was scheduled for nine days from now, as the arrangements were handled by a combination of local clergy, Serena’s detailed instructions, and Mel’s practical efficiency.
But something had been nagging at him, something seemed to be incomplete.
They had agreed to become his wife, they had made plans and sent invitations and ordered flowers for the small chapel where the ceremony would take place. But he had never actually proposed, not formally, not with the words and the moment and the question that tradition demanded.
He had been a coward about many things in his life and he did not intend to be a coward about this.
“Actually,” he said, setting aside his correspondence and rising from his chair, “I believe there’s something more important than geography that we need to address.”
Mel looked up, her expression shifting from pedagogical focus to wary attention.
“The lesson is not complete. We still have the Iberian Peninsula to cover.”
“The Iberian Peninsula can wait.” He crossed to the table where she stood with the children, his heart beating faster than the casual words suggested.
“I have a question to ask. And I would like witnesses.”
“A question about geography?”
“A question about the future.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the small box he had been carrying for three days, waiting for the right moment.
“A question I should have asked formally weeks ago, but which I delayed because I was afraid you might reconsider if given the opportunity.”
The schoolroom had gone very quiet. Even Thistle, who rarely managed silence for more than a few seconds, was watching with uncharacteristic stillness. Brutus, perched on the edge of her desk as he often was during lessons, seemed equally attentive.
Rhys opened the box, revealing the ring inside which was a simple band with a single sapphire, chosen because it reminded him of the colour of the sea visible from Hartfell’s windows. It was not ostentatious or overwhelming. Just beautiful, in the understated way that Mel herself was beautiful.
“Mel Grace,” he said, lowering himself to one knee in front of the geography table, “I have been many things in my life. A duke, a rake, pure scandal, a failure. But the thing I most want to be, the thing I am asking you to let me be, is your husband.”
Mel stared at him, her expression caught somewhere between surprise and exasperation.
“You’re proposing, during a geography lesson.”
“I am proposing during a geography lesson. In front of three witnesses who have been waiting for this moment with considerably more patience than I have been displaying.” He held up the ring, the sapphire catching the light from the schoolroom windows.
“I am quite undone by my affections for you. I believe my heart was pledged the very instant you reproached me for hiding behind my worst self, and perhaps, if I am to be honest, it was lost to you even before that hour. I want to spend the rest of my life proving that your faith in me was not misplaced.”
“You’re on your knee. On the schoolroom floor.”
“The schoolroom floor seemed appropriate. This is where you transformed my daughters. This is where you transformed me. This is where our family began.”
Anna, who had been watching with the analytical attention she gave to everything, leaned forward slightly.
“Say yes, Miss Grace,” she said, her voice carrying its familiar precision.
“He’ll be insufferable if you don’t.”
“Anna…”
“I’m simply stating the observable truth. Papa has been carrying that ring box for three days. I noticed the outline in his coat pocket on Tuesday. If you refuse him, he will mope, and moping interferes with household efficiency.”
Viola reached out and touched Mel’s hand, her quiet voice barely above a whisper.
“Please say yes.”
The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything Viola rarely expressed. Please say yes. Please stay. Please become permanent in the way that nothing else in her life had ever been permanent.
Thistle, not to be outdone, held up Brutus so that the toad was facing Mel directly.
“Brutus also wants you to say yes,” she announced. “He told me this morning. He said that if you wed Papa, you’ll officially be part of the family, and then you can never leave because leaving family is against the rules.”
“Brutus did not say that,” Anna observed. “Toads cannot speak.”
“Brutus speaks to me. You just don’t understand his language because you haven’t studied it properly.”
“There is no toad language. That’s not scientifically…”
“Girls.” Mel’s voice cut through the brewing argument with practiced efficiency. She was looking down at Rhys, still kneeling on the schoolroom floor, still holding the ring, still waiting for an answer that suddenly seemed less certain than it had a moment ago.
“You’re all very persuasive,” she said slowly.
“Particularly Brutus.”
“Is that a yes?” Thistle demanded.
“It’s an acknowledgment of persuasion. The answer requires more consideration.”
Rhys felt his heart stutter. More consideration. After everything they had been through, after the declarations and the promises and the plans already in motion, she needed more consideration?
But then he looked at her face, really looked, and he saw what was happening beneath the composed exterior.
She was not reconsidering. She was not uncertain.
She was simply being Mel, taking a moment that could have been purely emotional and grounding it in the practical reality that she valued above all else.
“What consideration do you require?” he asked.
“I require acknowledgment that this proposal, while romantic in intent, is occurring during an educational session that is not yet complete.” Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smile that she was clearly trying to suppress.
“The children have not yet learned the capitals of Spain and Portugal, and their geographical education should not be sacrificed for personal matters.”
“You want me to wait until after the lesson?”
“I want you to understand that my answer comes with conditions.”
“Name them.”
“First, we will complete the geography lesson. The Iberian Peninsula is not optional.” She paused, her expression softening almost imperceptibly.
“Second, you will rise from the floor, because kneeling on stone cannot be comfortable, and I refuse to accept a proposal from a man who is in physical distress.”
“I am not in physical distress.”
“You will be if you remain there much longer. Your knee is at an angle that suggests imminent discomfort.”
She was right, of course. The stone floor was harder than he had anticipated, and his knee was beginning to protest the position. But he was not moving until he had his answer.
“I will accept your conditions,” he said. “But I require an answer first.”
“The answer should be obvious.”
“Obvious is not the same as stated. I have learned, over the months of our acquaintance, that you place great value on precision. I would like a precise answer.”
Mel looked at him for a long moment. Then she looked at the three children watching with barely contained excitement. Then she looked back at him, her expression carrying something that was not quite a smile but was very close.
“Yes,” she said.
The word fell into the silence of the schoolroom, simple and profound and exactly what he had been waiting to hear.
“Yes?” he repeated, wanting to be certain.
“Yes. I will wed you. I will become your wife, and I will continue to be governess to your children until such time as they no longer require instruction, and I will spend the rest of my life ensuring that you live up to the man I know you can be.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise. There’s a distinction.”
He rose from his knee, wincing slightly at the protest from joints that were not as young as they had once been. The ring was still in his hand, the sapphire gleaming, and he reached for her hand with a deliberateness that matched her own.
“May I?”
She extended her left hand, and he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, which he had ensured by stealing one of her existing rings for measurement and returning it before she noticed.
“It’s beautiful,” Viola whispered.
“It’s appropriately sized,” Anna added. “Papa clearly did research.”
“Can we celebrate now?” Thistle demanded.
“Because I’ve been holding Brutus very still for a very long time, and he’s getting restless.”
Mel looked at the ring on her finger, then at the three children, then at the man who had just become her official fiancé rather than merely her presumed one. Her expression was composed, as always, but there was something new in her eyes. Something that looked very much like happiness.
“We can celebrate,” she said, “After we finish the geography lesson.”
“Miss Grace…”
“The Iberian Peninsula. Spain and Portugal. Ten minutes, at most.” She turned back to the map, her manner businesslike despite the ring now adorning her hand.
“Madrid is the capital of Spain. Lisbon is the capital of Portugal. They are located on the western edge of Europe, bordering the Atlantic Ocean.”
Rhys watched her, marveling at her ability to return to educational objectives moments after accepting a matrimonial proposal. This was who she was, this was who she would always be, practical, focused and determined to complete what she had started regardless of emotional circumstances.
He held her in the highest esteem.
“The Atlantic Ocean,” Thistle repeated dutifully.
“Can we celebrate now?”
“In eight minutes.”
“Seven?”
“Eight.”
The lesson continued for exactly eight more minutes, during which time the children learned the capitals of Spain and Portugal, the major geographical features of the Iberian Peninsula, and the historical significance of the region’s position as a gateway between Europe and the Atlantic world.
Then, finally, Mel closed the atlas and looked at the three faces watching her with barely contained impatience.
“Lesson complete,” she said. “You may now celebrate.”
The celebration was immediate and enthusiastic.
Thistle launched herself at both of them simultaneously, somehow managing to embrace Mel and Rhys while still clutching Brutus.
Anna offered formal congratulations before allowing herself to be pulled into a family embrace.
Viola held on with the quiet ferocity that characterised all her emotional expressions, her arms wrapped around Mel’s waist as though she would never let go.
And in the middle of it all, surrounded by his daughters and his future wife and one toad of uncertain temperament, Rhys felt something settle into place. Something that had been waiting his whole life to arrive.
This was family. This was home. This was everything he had been afraid to want and everything he would spend the rest of his life protecting.
The geography lesson had been completed. The proposal had been accepted. The future had officially begun.