Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“I know.” His father’s smile became gentler. “But protection is not the same thing as permission.”
Silence stretched.
Then the elder Mr. Ashby gave an exasperated sigh.
“Go back to Miss Montfort,” his father said. “And this time propose like a man in love, not like a solicitor offering a contract.”
Pembroke laughed aloud.
Vanover’s mouth twitched.
“Go tell the woman,” his father continued, “that you love her. Then”—his eyes narrowed affectionately—“have the good sense to let her decide whether that is the life she wants.”
Gabriel drew a slow breath. He could not promise Poppy a life without sacrifice. He could, at last, trust her to choose it. For the first time since she’d refused him, Gabriel felt the weight of fear give way to purpose.
He swiftly moved toward the door and reached for his coat.
The Montfort house was in a state of upheaval.
Trunks lined the hall. Rolled carpets leaned against the wall like exhausted soldiers.
A stack of books waited near the library door, tied with cord and labeled in Poppy’s neat hand.
The green fabric Lord Montague favored had been dragged halfway beneath the hall table, where Freddie worried at one corner with grim determination.
Lady Viva sat upon a trunk in peach silk, directing two footmen with a fan. “No, darling, the feathers cannot go beneath the books. Feathers have sensibilities. Books have opinions. They must be arranged by temperament.”
The footmen looked thoroughly confused.
Jenkins looked as though he had aged several years since breakfast.
Lady Viva saw Gabriel and stopped fanning herself. Her expression sharpened. “Mr. Ashby.”
“Lady Montague.”
She studied him for one long moment. “You look purposeful.”
“I am.”
“If you have come to ask Poppy to be sensible, I must warn you I have developed an aversion to the word.”
“I have not.”
“Good.”
“I have come to tell her I’m madly in love with her and beg her to marry me,” Gabriel announced.
Lady Viva’s face softened. “Ah. In that case, she is in the study.”
Gabriel glanced toward the half-open door.
Freddie emerged from beneath the table with a strip of green fabric dangling from his mouth.
Lady Viva looked at the dog approvingly. “At last, someone has dealt with that cloth properly.”
Gabriel smiled. Then he went to the study.
The room had been stripped of much of its life. Empty shelves gaped where books had stood that morning. Crates occupied the floor, and pale rectangles marked the walls where pictures had hung.
Poppy stood beside the writing desk in the plain gray gown he had seen earlier, her hair coming loose at the temples, dust on one cheek, a stack of papers in her arms. She looked tired. She looked brave.
She looked exactly like the woman he loved.
She raised her chin when she saw him. “Gabriel, if you’ve come to discourage me from taking the cottage—”
“I have not.”
“Or encourage me to accept Lord Caldermere?”
“I have not come to speak of cottages or Caldermere.”
She set the papers aside. “Then what have you come to say?”
He crossed the room until only a few paces separated them. “I came to tell you I was wrong.”
Her breath caught.
“I asked you to marry me because I believed it was the honorable thing to do. I spoke of duty and protection because I was afraid to trust the only thing that truly mattered.”
He took another step. “I was afraid to trust you.”
Poppy looked at him without speaking.
“I thought I knew what your future ought to be. I thought I understood what you would one day regret.” He shook his head. “I do not. Only you know your own heart, and I should have believed you when you told me where it lay.”
Emotion tightened her features.
“I love you, Poppy.”
The words were quiet, but they filled the room.
“I love your impossible household. I love Lady Viva and every outrageous guest she has ever rescued. I love Freddie, despite his criminal tendencies. I love the way you laugh in the midst of catastrophe and somehow persuade everyone else to laugh with you.”
He smiled.
“I love you enough to spend the rest of my life balancing ledgers after your mother has unbalanced them.”
A watery laugh escaped her.
“I cannot imagine a morning without you. I cannot imagine coming home and not finding you there. I cannot imagine any future that is not ours.”
He lowered himself onto one knee.
“Poppy Montfort.” His voice caught. “I have nothing grand to offer except myself. My work. My steadfastness. My whole heart. I will never ask you to become someone else for me. I ask only that you choose me.”
Silence held the room.
“Will you marry me?”
For one suspended heartbeat, she simply looked at him.
Then she smiled.
“Oh, Gabriel.”
She sank to her knees before him instead. “You foolish, wonderful man.” She cupped his face in both hands. “Yes.”
Her forehead rested against his. “I choose you.”
He closed his eyes.
It was the only answer he had ever wanted.
Then he kissed her.
From the hall came Lady Viva’s voice. “Darling, if you are accepting a proposal in there, please do so loudly enough for your mother to enjoy it.”
Freddie barked.
Poppy laughed against Gabriel’s mouth. “We have been discovered.”
“I believe we were discovered before I entered the room.”
“That is possible.” She drew back, breathless and flushed. “Caldermere will be here soon.”
“Yes.”
“I must answer him myself.”
Gabriel nodded. “I know.”
“I want you nearby.”
“I will be.”
They left the library together hand-in-hand.
Lady Viva stood in the hall with Freddie in her arms, the strip of green fabric hanging from his mouth like a trophy. Gabriel’s father had arrived while Gabriel was in the study and stood near the stairs, hat in hand, eyes bright with unmistakable affection.
“Well?” Lady Viva demanded.
Poppy took Gabriel’s hand. “Mr. Ashby has asked me to marry him, and I have agreed.”
The elder Mr. Ashby smiled. “I am very glad to hear it.”
Gabriel looked at his father. “You might at least pretend astonishment.”
“I might,” his father said, “but you did tell me you meant to ask her, and I may have retired with admirable speed once I saw the opportunity.”
Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “You—”
His father’s smile turned devilish. “I knew you would be perfect for Miss Montfort.”
Gabriel put his free hand on his hip. “How could you possibly have known that?”
His father winked. “Because I know you. And I have come to know Miss Montfort well enough to see what you could not. You are both so accustomed to carrying burdens alone that neither of you quite knows what to do when someone remarkable tries to help you.”
Gabriel went very still.
“I thought,” his father continued, “that given half a chance, you might bring out the best in one another.”
For a moment, Gabriel could say nothing. He looked at his father and understood, all at once, the gift he had been given. Time. Proximity. An excuse to remain in Poppy’s company when duty alone would have sent him away.
Then he looked at Poppy.
She was already looking back, her eyes bright with the same dawning realization.
Lady Viva handed Freddie to Jenkins, who accepted the dog and the ruined fabric with resignation, then swept Poppy into her arms. “I thought so too,” she announced. Then she whispered in her daughter’s ear, “Are you happy, darling?”
Poppy closed her eyes. “Yes, Mama. Quite.”
“Good.” Lady Viva held her a little longer. “I appear to have developed the most inconvenient tendency to become misty-eyed. It is perfectly dreadful. I hope it passes.”
Gabriel’s father came forward and bowed over Poppy’s hand. “My dear Miss Montfort. May I say that I am delighted?”
“You may,” Poppy said, smiling through tears.
Lady Viva dabbed at her eyes. “Now, Mr. Ashby.”
Both Gabriel and his father looked at her.
She pointed her handkerchief at Gabriel. “The younger one. We must be clear. I come with Poppy.”
“I assumed so.”
“And Freddie.”
“Also assumed.”
“And my friends, upon occasion.”
Gabriel hesitated.
Poppy looked at him with wry amusement.
“Define occasion,” he said.
Lady Viva brightened. “How legal of you.”
“How necessary of me.”