Chapter Twenty-Three
As David led Justina onto the dance floor, he caught the scent of violets.
“I have never told you, but violets are my favorite flowers,” he shared. “You always smell of them.”
“They are also my favorite flower,” she replied.
He saw questions in her eyes and wasn’t certain he was ready to answer any of them.
It was simply enough to be near her again.
Glancing about, he saw couples taking their stance and knew this final dance would be a waltz.
Selfishly, he was glad because it would allow him to hold Justina close, but it also would give her a chance to question him.
The music began, the rhythm of three-quarter time sweeping through him.
“You are light on your feet,” he complimented after they had danced a few measures. “Quite the graceful dancer.”
“I may sing terribly and only play the pianoforte adequately, but I do excel at dancing,” she joked.
“I have never heard you sing, so I—”
“And you never will. Frogs warble more musically than I can. When God was passing out talents, he gifted me with my art. I can sketch and paint, but my singing hurts even my ears. I know not to do it in public.”
“What of in private?” he couldn’t help but ask, his voice husky.
Her gaze met his. “I would rather kiss you if we were in private. Not sing to you and frighten you away.”
Her bold words gave him hope.
“Well, I was a soldier in His Majesty’s army for seven years. I do not frighten easily,” he flirted.
A smile graced her lips. “Let me put it this way. If I sang on the battlefield, both sides would retreat. The battle would be called a draw. If, on the other hand, Wellington sent me out alone on horseback and I began to sing, Bonaparte’s forces would cower. Not in fear. In misery,” she teased.
He began turning her, seeing their steps were well-matched, gliding across the ballroom floor.
“You should report to Wellington immediately then and end this hellish war. The great commander has finally gone on the offensive, finding a solid base of operations. The draw the English and French have danced about these past two years in Spain might finally be coming to an end.”
“Do you miss it?”
“No. Not a whit,” he replied truthfully. “War is full of death. Disease. Danger. It sucks the soul from a man and leaves him less than he was before.”
“What of your shop? Surely now you are an earl, you are no longer running Rochester’s.”
He smiled. “Ironically, it is once more in Mr. Shaft’s hands. I gave it to him. He stipulated that he would leave my signs up, however.”
“I need to hear more about this,” she said. “Of all which has been happening to you.”
He pulled her closer, sensing her breath hitch. “I am done with talking.”
David continued twirling her about the floor, gradually moving her to the open French doors, dancing them out and onto the terrace. It was deserted, and he continued dancing with her, the strains of the music still easy to hear through the open doors.
When they reached the end of the terrace, however, he came to a halt.
It was now—or never . . .
With her still in his arms, he said, “I have not been happy a day since I last saw you, Justina. Whether as a shopkeeper or an earl, my life has been empty. Because of your absence. Tell me if I am wrong to speak to you in this manner.”
“You are not wrong,” she said softly. “I, too, have been like a ghost, moving through life. Doing what was expected of me but finding no joy in it. I love you, David. There, I have said it. I have loved you for the longest time. It is about time you knew of my love for you.”
Tears sprang to his eyes. “Justina, I have loved you for what seems like forever. I feel as if I had been plunged into darkness when you left my life. You have a brightness about you. It makes every single thing you do shine. You light up every room. Every conversation. And I love you for that. I love you more than I thought humanly possible.”
David paused. “But you have told me in the past that you doubted marriage was for you. Because of that, I am not certain where I stand with you.”
“I did not think marriage was for me because of my art,” she said solemnly. “I have given so much of myself to painting. I did not know if I would ever have enough left to give to a man. Or if I did, I was afraid he might wish to take painting away from me.”
Her hand left his shoulder where it rested, caressing his cheek. “But you see me as I am. You accept me for the artist I have become, David. I do not think you would be someone who would forbid me from painting. If anything, you have encouraged me more than anyone else ever has.”
“It is because I have faith in you. You are talented. Determined. Creative.” He hesitated. “Are you telling me that you might consider wedding me?”
Her smile was brilliant. “You would have to offer for me in order to hear my answer.”
Without hesitation, he dropped to one knee, taking her hands in his.
“My dearest Justina, I cannot live without you. You bring joy to my life and give me the confidence to do anything I put my mind to. I have loved you from afar, and now I wish to love you with you by my side. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my countess?”
Her fingers squeezed his. “I love you so very much, David. So much that it surprises me. Inspires me. I had never considered marriage—until you came along. And then I knew you were the only man whom I would ever find true happiness with. So yes, my beloved. I agree to wed you.”
He shot to his feet, his hands capturing her face, his mouth seeking hers.
The kiss was heated from the start. David kissed Justina passionately, knowing they would have a wonderful life together.
That love was the foundation, with a good dose of friendship tossed in, and he predicted they would be happy for decades to come.
Breaking the kiss, he rested his brow against hers. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
Justina chuckled. “Yes, my darling. It really is.”
David lifted his head and suddenly realized they were not alone. His eyes roamed the terrace, and he saw several couples eyeing them, smiles on their faces.
Turning to his betrothed, he asked, “Who are all these people?”
She beamed. “They are my family.”
Justina held out her arms, and all the women dashed toward her, hugging, crying, babbling. As for the men, they surrounded him, offering David their hands, slapping him on the back.
Somehow, he found his way back to Justina again. Slipping an arm about her waist, he said to those present, “As you can all see, we are now betrothed.”
“We all had eyes upon you,” Lord Traywick said. “Everyone has watched Justina all evening from various positions in the ballroom. We wanted to make certain no rogue was in her company.”
“We could not help but follow you when you disappeared out the doors,” the woman who resembled Justina said. “I am Verina, and you have just become engaged to my sister. Welcome to the family, Mr. Rochester.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he replied, “but I am no longer Rochester. I am now Lord Sheridan.” He paused, swallowing hard. “It means a great deal to me that the entire group of you were so willing to welcome me when you thought I was a humble shopkeeper.”
The older woman David had seen Justina with earlier stepped forward.
“I am the Dowager Duchess of Millbrooke. Justina’s mother was my dearest friend in the world.
Agnes would be so happy tonight, seeing her daughter glowing as she is.
Since I am the closest thing Justina has to a mother now, I will merely say that we are happy to see the youngest of the ten cousins finding true love. ”
Lord and Lady Trowell appeared, and the earl said, “We heard talk of something happening on our terrace.”
David spoke up. “Lady Justina Fulton and I have decided to wed, my lord.”
“My goodness!” Lady Trowell said. “Why, that means the first engagement of the Season occurred at our ball. I will be the envy of every hostess in town.”
“We will depart now,” the Dowager Duchess said, motioning for her children and other relatives to leave the terrace and return inside. “You are all invited to Traywick’s townhouse now to celebrate this engagement.”
He laced his fingers through Justina’s. “Let me escort you to your carriage, love.”
“Love?” she echoed. “Oh, I do like the sound of that.”
He brought her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing it. “You are my forever love, Justina. And today is the beginning of how I will show my love for you each and every day.”
They crossed the ballroom and went down the grand staircase, heading out to the streets. Many carriages were still waiting to move, the road clogged with vehicles and people.
“David!”
He turned, seeing Henry striding toward him. “Shall we share our news?”
His new fiancée smiled. “By all means, my lord.”
Henry reached them, stopping abruptly. His gaze lowered, seeing their joined hands, and he looked at David, his smile wide.
“I worried when you did not come to the carriage, but I see you had other business to attend to.”
“Yes,” he said, happiness bursting from him. “We are officially betrothed.”
“My congratulations to you both,” Henry said. “You certainly belong together.”
“I could not agree more,” Lord Traywick said. “Good evening, Marbury. Or should I say good morning?”
“Definitely morning, Traywick,” Henry responded.
“My family is returning to my townhouse to celebrate the good news. Might you wish to come?”
“Why, that is very kind of you, my lord,” Henry replied.
“But my father is a bit grumpy. He has not kept town hours since he was a man my age. And my sister will be wanting to get some sleep because she tells me all kinds of gentlemen intend to line our drawing room this afternoon. I think we shall pass. But I would like to host a celebratory dinner for the happy couple and your entire family.” Henry chuckled.
“I will simply need to know who they all are.”
“I will help you with the invitations, Lord Marbury,” Justina volunteered.
Henry looked to David. “Shall we leave you at Lord Traywick’s?”