Dangerous in Diamonds - Madeline Hunter [127]
She sniffed. He thought it very sweet that she was overcome with emotion. She sniffed again and wiped her eye with her hand. “So are you going to propose officially?”
“Certainly, if you desire it.”
“I think I would like you to, if you do not mind.”
He took her hands in his. “Well, at least you are not insisting that I get on my knees.”
She looked at him, and her unshed tears of joy made tiny diamonds in her eyes. “Actually, that would be very nice too.”
He looked around. He doubted they were visible from the house. He eased down onto his knees. “You must tell no one. It will ruin me.”
She laughed and cried. She bent to kiss his cheek.
“Daphne, will you be my wife, so the love we have for each other can blossom like the flowers in your greenhouse?”
She bit her lower lip, then opened her mouth to respond. However, no words came, and her expression fell. She looked toward the house.
“There was one more reason for that sensible woman to refuse to marry a duke, Castleford. Estelle. Everyone will know whose child she is. And I know how you hate him.” Her brow furrowed from her distress. “I could leave her at The Rarest Blooms, I suppose. I would see her often, but—” She gazed down at him with an expression too close to sad regret. “I have waited so long to have her with me.”
“I may hate him, but I do not hate the child.” He got to his feet. “You can say she is Captain Joyes’s child if you want. You can say she is Latham’s. Do it however you want. As for having her with you, there is certainly room. You might have noticed that I have very big houses.” He pulled her into his arms. “I love you. Stop thinking of reasons not to marry me and say that you will.”
She looked up and touched his face. While he watched, the most beautiful expression claimed her face. No high emotion and no blush but no defenses either. Just Daphne, her pure self, as open and vulnerable as he had ever seen her.
“Yes I will. I will marry you, Castleford.”
He kissed her, moved by her beauty and her exquisite self and her rashness in loving him. He swore to himself that while he might never be more than almost half-reformed, he would never do anything to make her unhappy with this decision.
He took her hand and they walked up the lane.
“When shall we do it?” she asked.
“Why not today? I can go to Cumberworth for the vicar. I have a special license with me.”
“You obtained a special license before riding down? That was a little conceited of you.”
“Not conceited, darling. Enterprising. Desperately hopeful. We can use The Rarest Blooms for our wedding party, and your friends can be our witnesses.”
“That would be very appropriate, I think. I would not want anything more. Yes, let us do it that way, in the garden.”
He stopped short, as he remembered something. “Speaking of rarest blooms, I hope it isn’t ruined.”
He strode to his horse and plucked a wooden box out of the bag there. He peered inside. “All is well. After riding twenty miles in each direction for it, I would not want it wilted before you saw it.”
Daphne came close to the horse and looked over his arm. “What is it?”
“Exquisite transience. A flower like none other, procured from the only man in England who I am told has the plant.” He opened the box.
Her eyes widened in wonder. Even jewels had not impressed her like this.
“It is an orchid,” he said.
“I know what it is.” She lifted it carefully. “I have seen drawings of it, from when it bloomed last year. How did you get this?”
“I heard it had bloomed again, so I went and asked that fellow Cattley to sell me one flower. It did not cost quite as much as the diamonds.”
She lifted the flower and sniffed its scent. While she admired it, he looked at the house. The women had come out. They stood clustered near the door, watching her. Those who had lived here in the past and those who would live in Surrey in the future mingled together while Daphne remained entranced by the