Hazel blinked at Blade as he paced the narrow aisle in the center of the greenhouse. His midnight-blue evening jacket hugged his broad shoulders; his buckskin trousers showcased his taut backside. The sight was almost enough to make her forget their terrible predicament—but not quite.
There was no doubt that Poppy, Kitty, and Prue had good intentions, but Hazel was still furious with them for orchestrating this devious little plot. Worse, she was heartsick over Blade’s impending engagement. And she was more than a little terrified of Penelope. “There’s something you should know.”
He froze mid-step, his forehead creased with concern. “Go on.”
“Penelope spoke to me earlier.”
“I hope she didn’t say anything to upset you.”
“She knows about us, Blade. Or at least she claims to. She said that if your engagement isn’t announced tonight, she’ll expose us.”
“Shit.” His jaw clenched. “Hazel … I’m sorry. You don’t deserve any of this. If Penelope had a grievance, she should have taken it up with me—not you.”
“But I have more to lose. If I’m at the center of the scandal, Bellehaven Academy will be destroyed.”
“I won’t let that happen.” His eyes gleamed with determination as he shrugged off his jacket. “I’m going to get us out of here before we’re discovered.”
“What?” Hazel leaned forward. “How?”
“I’m tempted to break the glass, but that would only attract attention—and lead to a host of other questions. So I’ll climb through that window.” He pointed to a small opening near the greenhouse roof, at least twenty feet off the ground.
“You cannot be serious.”
He shoved a table beneath the window, toppling several pots in the process. “I’m dead serious.”
“Even if you manage to climb up there, you’ll break your neck on the way down.”
He shrugged, unfazed, and placed an overturned crate on the table. “I’ll try to land in a bush.”
As he climbed onto the crate, the table rocked on wobbly legs, and she rushed over to steady it. “I’m not certain this will hold you.” The wooden boards beneath the box bowed and creaked under his weight.
He frowned. “Stand back, Hazel. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
She stayed rooted to her spot. “Then come down from there.”
He reached up, his body flush with the wall of windows, and gripped the ledge of the opening with his fingertips. “We don’t have much time. If Penelope or one of the other guests finds us here, it’s over. Your reputation, your school … you could lose everything.”
“You don’t have to do this, Blade.”
“Of course I do.” He grunted as he hoisted himself, slowly muscling his way upward till his elbows rested on the sill, his shoulders were wedged inside the window frame, and the rest of his body hung against the glass panes.
Her heart pounded at the thought of him hurling himself through the window. He’d be leaping headfirst, and from what she could see, there was nary a shrub in sight outside.
“Why?” she demanded, not caring that her voice echoed through the greenhouse. “Why must you be so stubborn? Why do you insist on risking life and limb?”
“Why?” he repeated, still breathless from his exertions. “Why? Because I love you, damn it.”
Her body warmed, glowing from within. “You love me?”
He muttered a curse. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while now … but I thought it would complicate matters.”
“It certainly does,” Hazel murmured. Blade loved her—and that changed everything. “Will you please come down and talk to me?” she pleaded.
He shook his head. “I love you, Hazel Lively. And I happen to know there’s nothing in this world that’s more important to you than your school and your girls. They’re your family, and I’ll be damned if anyone is going to take them away from you.”
With that, he started wriggling his torso through the opening, grunting each time he inched forward.
“Blade, stop.”
Either he didn’t hear her, or he wasn’t listening. The upper half of his body hung outside of the greenhouse, at least twenty feet above the ground. With one more thrust, he’d be falling. And she couldn’t stand by while he did something so endearingly foolish.
She scrambled onto the table, climbed onto the crate, and grabbed hold of one of his boots.
“What the devil are you doing?” he shouted, incredulous.
“I should think it would be obvious.” She wrapped her forearm around his trunk-like thigh and yanked hard, grateful that gravity was on her side.
“Let go, Hazel. A little fall won’t hurt me. My head is harder than you know.”
“I have some inkling how hard your head is.” She pulled with all her might, pleased to see him slip backward a bit.
“Trust me,” he cajoled. “I could be outside, opening the greenhouse door for you in less than a minute. We’ll be back in the ballroom before anyone’s the wiser.”
“Or, in less than a minute, I could be calling for Dr. Gladwell to come and set your broken bones. That’s if you’re lucky.”
He snorted and tried to wriggle out of her grasp. “Lucky?”
“If you’re unlucky, I’ll be calling for the coroner.” She grabbed his shirttails with both fists and pulled with every ounce of strength she possessed. “Come. Back. Down.”
A loud ripping sound rang through the air. Blade’s chest and shoulders slid back, inside the opening, and he was falling.
The crate broke, the table collapsed. Hazel clung to him as they tumbled from the platform. He turned his body, cushioning her landing on the greenhouse floor. All the pots that had been on the table crashed to the floor, covering them in layers of soil, leaves, and petals.
“Oh my God, Hazel.” Blade cupped her face in his hands, wiping the dirt from her eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I think so.” She gingerly moved her limbs, and when she sat up, discovered she was straddling Blade. He was sprawled flat on his back, wearing a few scraps where his shirt should have been.
That was precisely how Lady Rufflebum found them when she scurried into the greenhouse. “Good heavens.” She pressed a hand to her quivering chest; her expression alternating between shock and horror. “Miss Lively … Lord Bladenton … what on earth have you done to my orchids?”
Hazel froze. She knew she should say something. And probably cover her legs. And definitely dismount Blade.
But a loud buzzing filled her head, and her body refused to obey her brain. She simply sat astride him while others rushed into the greenhouse. The countess’s companion. Lord Dunmire. Lady Penelope. Poppy, Kitty, and the girls. Even more guests gathered outside the greenhouse, their noses pressed to the glass as they gawked. Every curious gaze was fixed on her and Blade.
His lips were moving, but Hazel couldn’t make out the words—not with the strange humming in her ears. His large, sure hands were on her waist, gently lifting her off his hips as he sat up. He lumbered to his feet, helped her stand, and briefly, surreptitiously, squeezed her hand.
The gentle pressure of his palm against hers broke the spell, and she remembered what he’d said just moments before. He loved her.
“Despite how it may have appeared,” Blade said smoothly, “nothing untoward occurred here.”
A couple of disbelieving titters erupted from the crowd. Hazel noticed more than a few women staring appreciatively at Blade’s rippled torso.
He made a futile attempt to cover his chest with the shreds of his shirt, then shrugged. “Miss Lively and I were trapped, so I—rather stupidly in retrospect—tried to climb through the window.”
“How heroic,” Prue breathed dreamily.
“The point is,” Blade continued, “this spectacle is entirely my fault. Miss Lively was trying to prevent me from breaking my neck, and I deeply regret any harm I caused her with my recklessness.” He turned to her, his dark eyes earnest. “Please forgive me, Miss Lively.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she choked out.
The crowd fell unnaturally quiet; indeed, the only sound was the swoosh of Lady Rufflebum’s fan.
“I also want to vouch for Bellehaven Academy,” Blade continued. “It’s far from your typical finishing school, but any young woman would be fortunate to have Miss Lively in her life, nurturing her talents and helping her grow. This town needs Bellehaven Academy, and nothing that’s happened here tonight should jeopardize Miss Lively’s school. Because I happen to know it is everything to her.”
“It’s not everything,” Hazel blurted. She swallowed, taking a moment to compose herself. “I used to think it was. But it’s not more important than my girls. It’s not more important than family. And it definitely not more important than love.”
Blade shuffled his feet and leaned close to her ear. “What are you doing, Hazel? We can fix this.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispered back.
As the words sank in, his eyes grew wide and he grinned, flashing the rakish dimple that never ceased to melt her insides. “Carry on, then.”
“The truth is,” she continued loudly, “that I fell in love. With Lord Bladenton.”
A collective gasp filled the greenhouse, echoing off the glass ceiling. The countess’s fan waved in double time.
Hazel turned to him, brushed a clump of plant roots from his shoulder, and reached for his hand. “I love you, Blade. And that means I choose you first. I choose us first. Now and always.”
Lady Penelope emerged from the crowd, her piercing blue eyes shooting darts at Hazel. “This is all quite touching,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “However, a one-sided infatuation does not a love story make. Bladenton,” she said pointedly, “I know you had planned to make your speech at midnight, but perhaps now would be a better time.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Blade said, but his eyes never left Hazel’s. “When I first came to Bellehaven, I couldn’t wait to leave. I was running from my responsibilities, my past, and my feelings. Miss Hazel Lively, you were the reason I stopped running. You made me want to stay.”
He swept an errant curl away from her face, and his fingers trailed down the side of her neck, making her knees go weak. “I would never ask you to choose between your school or me. I want you to follow your passions wherever they lead you … as long as they always bring you home to me.”
The ground tilted a little. Perhaps she’d bumped her head in the fall, and this was all a bizarre, lovely dream.
But no. Poppy and Kitty were smiling at her. Jane was dabbing her eyes. Clara, Lucy, Prue, and the other girls had linked arms like a little battalion, ready to come to her aid if necessary.
All the while, Blade stood there, staring at her as if she were the only person in the greenhouse. “I love you, Hazel. In a modest fichu or a beautiful ball gown. With your hair tamed into a tidy twist or blowing wild on the beach. I love your fiery determination and your soft acceptance. Mostly, I love that you were a tough nut to crack—and that you opened to me.”
Her eyes welled and her heart felt as though it would burst. “Blade.”
“I want to listen to the ocean with you. Build a life and make a family with you, starting with Kitty and the rest of the girls. I want to wake to your smile every morning and lay my head next to yours every night—if you’ll let me. Will you marry me, Hazel?”
The greenhouse fell silent again, and everyone—inside the glass walls and out—leaned in, eager to hear her response.
“Yes!” she shouted.
“Yes!” the girls repeated, jumping up and down. “She said yes!”
Blade swept her into his arms and twirled her around, oblivious to the dirt, dust, and leaf bits that swirled at their feet.
“There shall be a champagne toast in the ballroom!” Lady Rufflebum cried. “Let us away at once!”
“Wait,” Lady Penelope interjected, bringing the celebration to a screeching halt. Everyone turned to her expectant, and Hazel’s stomach dropped. “Before we raise our glasses to the happy couple, I have something to share. It’s a letter,” she said pointedly, “and I think you’ll find it rather enlightening.”
Penelope’s pink feather shook indignantly as she placed one hand on a shapely hip and made a great show of reaching into her corset with the other.
“Bloody hell,” Blade muttered.
“Something I should know about?” Hazel asked nervously.
“I’ll explain. Just know it doesn’t change anything.”
Hazel held her breath, but after several awkward seconds of searching her bosom, Penelope was unable to produce anything—except a frustrated whimper.
“I may be able to shed some light on Lady Penelope’s missing letter.” Lord Dunmire marched forward like a trial lawyer preparing to introduce new evidence. “I believe it fell from her bodice earlier … while she was in the silver closet.”
“The silver closet?” Lady Rufflebum repeated, incredulous.
“Precisely,” Dunmire said. “I happened to see it and picked it up.”
Seething, Penelope held out her palm. “I should like to have my letter back, my lord.”
Dunmire tugged on the bottom of his waistcoat. “I am afraid that’s impossible, my dear, as I disposed of it.”
She arched a disbelieving brow. “I beg your pardon?”
“Disposed of it. Ripped it to shreds. Tossed it to the winds.”
“Why … why would you do that?” she demanded.
Dunmire brushed a pink downy barb off the sleeve of his evening jacket, watching as it floated to the ground. “It seemed rather irrelevant after the silver closet,” he said with a wink. “Besides, you have a better option. Namely, me.”
Lady Penelope opened her mouth as if she’d object, then folded her arms and stared at the viscount, wary—and mildly intrigued. “Forgive me if I remain unconvinced.”
Dunmire shrugged. “Your trepidation is understandable, but we needn’t rush. I shall make it my mission to persuade you that we are compatible—and that you may trust me.”
She whirled and swept out of the greenhouse with the viscount close on her heels, spurring another round of raucous cheers.
“To the ballroom!” the countess ordered. But while the guests streamed out, she toddled over to Hazel and Blade. “I’m quite pleased for you,” she said sincerely. “But you,” she said, jabbing a bejeweled finger at Blade’s chest, “are going to owe me for those orchids.”
“Of course,” Blade assured her. “I apologize for the mess. You must send me a bill for the damages.”
The countess barked a laugh. “I don’t want your money, Bladenton. I want your sweat. At the cricket match next summer—and every summer after that.”
“Done.”
“Uncle Beck! Miss Lively!” Kitty rushed over and hugged them both. “Thank heaven you’re all right. I would have felt awful if you’d been hurt in the fall.”
Blade snorted and shrugged on his jacket, which somehow made his lack of a shirt even more noticeable. “And yet you have no remorse for locking us in the greenhouse?”
Kitty batted her eyes innocently. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
The rest of the girls gathered around, giddy with excitement. “I hope you’re not cross with me, Miss Lively,” Prue said, “but we all voted. And we decided that, sometimes, proper behavior does take a holiday.”
“Perhaps,” Hazel conceded. “But only once in a blue moon.” To Clara, she said, “I’m sorry that I spoiled your masterpiece. We will do our best to clean it—maybe it can be salvaged.”
“Maybe.” Clara smiled serenely. “But it doesn’t really matter. The gown has already worked its magic.”
Prue’s mother hurried toward them, and Hazel made a futile attempt to shake the potting soil from her skirts. “Felicitations to you both,” said Mrs. Covington. “Miss Lively, I wondered if I might have word?”
“Of course.”
“I believe I was a bit hasty to pull Prudence out of Bellehaven Academy. She’s been so unhappy the past week, and tonight … well, now that she’s in the company of her friends, it feels as though I have my daughter back.”
“Prue is more than welcome to return. We’ve all missed her.”
“She’ll be in class on Monday,” Mrs. Covington said firmly. “Your methods are unconventional … but, after tonight, I’m thinking that unconventional might be just what Prue needs.”
Hazel’s chest warmed. “I’m glad you think so.”
“Besides,” Mrs. Covington said behind the cover of her fan, “any headmistress who can land a dashing earl must be doing something right.” With that, she snapped her fan shut and headed toward the greenhouse door.
“How’s everything over here?” Blade’s arms slipped around Hazel’s waist, and she felt the hard wall of his chest at her back. “Have I missed anything?”
“Prue’s coming back.” She smiled up at him. “And tonight … well, it’s been the best night of my entire life. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Then I guess you’re not interested in the surprise I have for you.”
“On the contrary.” She leaned back, pressing her bottom against his thighs. “I’m very interested.”
“Sweet Jesus,” he rasped. “Can we leave the girls?”
Hazel looked around the almost empty greenhouse. Jane was already herding their charges toward the ballroom. Poppy met Hazel’s gaze and made a shooing motion. “They’re in good hands,” she confirmed. “So, where are we going?”
He shot her a lopsided grin, the sort that must have melted millions of hearts. The difference was that now, Blade was all hers.
Taking her by the hand, he said, “Come with me.”