Della didn’t want this moment to end, although she had to admit it wasn’t entirely comfortable lying on a dining room table.
In fact, not comfortable at all.
She shifted, propping herself up on her hand to look at him. He gazed back at her, a deep warmth in his eyes.
And she panicked, which she shouldn’t have. She knew that. Still— “Wait,” she said, placing her hand over his mouth when he was opening it to speak. “Wait until later. I need to take care of a few things first.” She grabbed the table cloth and cleaned herself off.
His expression made it look as though he would argue, but eventually he nodded, and she removed her hand as she drew herself up to get off the table. She cast one last regretful look at him, spread out like a banquet just for her, then picked up her shift and put it on, then her corset, and then shook out her gown and stepped into it.
“Can you do me up?” she asked, turning her back to him.
“I’d rather not,” he replied, but she heard him move and begin to do up the buttons.
“I promise we’ll talk later about all this, but I don’t want to until I know—”
“Until you know what? Isn’t it enough to know that I lo—?”
“Shh,” she said, giving him a reproachful look. “Don’t distract me with your powers of persuasion, which are mighty. First you need to tell me where I will find Mr. Baxter. And I promise, I will come see you in a few hours.”
He told her without hesitation. Just that; not insisting he go with her, or urge her not to do anything reckless. She’d do what she wanted to do, and he respected that.
He wouldn’t try to stop her. He knew her. He understood her, even if he didn’t understand what she had to do before deciding everything.
“Sarah?” Della called outside her friend’s room.
The door opened, and Sarah poked her head out, a knowing look on her face as she surveyed Della’s state of attire.
“I gather you accepted his apology?” Sarah said in a dry tone of voice.
Della rolled her eyes at her friend. “Yes, you know I did. You knew I would. I can’t believe I’ve fallen in love with him, but there you go.”
“And Mr. Baxter?”
Della’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “I am going to see him and deal with him myself. And then, if you wish, we can go see your parents. You deserve an explanation as to why they lied to Henry.”
Sarah’s expression darkened. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary. You’ve done enough. I need to do this on my own. Well, on my and Henry’s own. Besides,” she continued in a lighter tone, “I think you’ll have your hands full with Mr. Baxter.”
“If they’re not wrapped around his throat,” Della replied.
“And I wanted to speak with you anyway,” Sarah continued. “Henry and I have had an offer from the Duke of Northam. He’s asked us to come live with him. I’ll be his nurse, and Henry will work in the gardens. There is a school being planned there so I can continue teaching as well, if I want. It’s a generous offer.”
“What about when—?” Della asked.
Sarah smiled. “He’s ill, but his doctors say he’s got more time now. I’m sorry you won’t be a duchess soon.”
“I’m not sorry at all,” Della retorted. “Does Griffith know?”
Sarah nodded. “The duke told him just recently.”
“He’ll be so relieved,” Della said. She had seen how much Griffith cared for his cousin.
“It will be a good place for Emily to live. As long as you, Nora, and Lord Stanbury promise to visit often.”
Della squeezed Sarah’s hands, then wrapped her friend in an impulsive hug. “I am so glad for you,” she whispered.
“And I you,” Sarah replied in a soft voice. “Please try not to murder anyone before you get your happily-ever-after.”
Della stepped back, laughing. “I will do what I can.”
“Never?” his boatswain’s mate said after Griffith had spoken.
Clark and Hyland had done good work assembling as much of the crew as they could find—they were in the pub where Griffith had first seen her. When his life had changed so dramatically, even though he hadn’t known it at the time.
The ale was still mediocre, but his crew didn’t seem to care, especially since Griffith was paying.
“Never,” Griffith confirmed. “You’ll have to sail on without me, lads.” He took a sip from his glass. “I’ll supply references for anybody who wants one. And if you decide you don’t wish to return to sea after all—if you want to follow my example—there’s work to be had with the Duke of Northam.”
“Huh,” his master-at-arms said. “I wonder what life would be like on steady land.”
“It’s not half-bad, men,” Hyland said. He held his mostly drunk ale in his hand, which he pointed toward Griffith. “The captain here is settling down. Mebbe it’s time some of us do the same.”
Griffith grinned at Hyland, who could always be counted on to support his captain, no matter what. Even if—and especially if—it meant arguing with Clark.
“Three cheers for the captain!” the coxswain said.
“Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!”
Griffith glanced around the room, at the men holding their glasses up to him, at Clark and Hyland, both of whom had smug looks on their faces.
It was time to come home. It was time to settle down. He wasn’t the boy who’d run off to sea twelve years ago, nor was he the man who’d ended up the captain of his own ship.
He was ready to share his life with an equal partner. His Della. His love.
Mr. Baxter—she refused to even think of him by his given name—opened the door to his room, then tried to slam it on her just as quickly, but she shoved her foot in so he couldn’t.
He glared at her foot, then at her face, then opened the door wider. “I suppose you’ll have to come in.”
“I suppose so,” she replied, walking into the room.
It was untidy, his possessions scattered around like they’d been tossed by an unruly wind. He’d been that way when they’d been together as well—she was always scurrying after him, picking things up. Until she’d decided he could pick his own things up, she wasn’t going to bother anymore.
“Why are you here, Della?” he asked. “I was expecting your father, or that large gentleman who came to see me.”
“I’m here to see what you want. And to ensure you don’t get it,” she replied flatly. “I won’t allow you to blackmail anybody on my behalf. I came to tell you I don’t care what you say to anybody. You have no right to ask for anything after what you did.”
His expression got mean, and she reminded herself he had no hold over her. Not any longer. Not ever, in fact.
It had been she who had delayed their marriage. She’d known almost as soon as she’d eloped with him that he wasn’t who she wished to be with, so although he’d asked, she’d prevaricated so as not to commit. Not until she was certain.
And then she was certain—certain she didn’t want to be with him.
“So if I announce I am in town and that you refuse to let me see my daughter?”
She moved so she was mere inches from his face. He stepped back, an apprehensive expression on his face. “You gave up any right to being Nora’s father when you left us. You will not dare to stir up any kind of trouble.” She dug in her pocket, withdrawing the bills she’d placed there before leaving the house. “You can have this. It is all you will ever get from me or anybody related to me.”
He stared at the bills, his lip curling.
“Take it or don’t take it, I don’t care. As long as you leave London and never try to see us again.”
He snatched the bills from her hand. “And if I go see your father? He’ll say the same?”
“If you do, I will tell everyone our story. Do you understand? I don’t care. I don’t want you interfering in my family, in my life, any longer. My parents might be ashamed of what happened, and wish to shield their own reputation, but I don’t care. I’ll burn it all to the ground if you do anything besides leaving London.”
His face grew pale, and she could see when he’d realized it was useless to argue with her. That she was going to do what she said, no matter what anybody else tried to do.
“Fine,” he spat out.
She nodded at him, then turned on her heel and left the room, allowing a smirk of satisfaction to curl her mouth when she heard the door slam behind her.
Now she could get on with her life.
“She’s here,” Clark said as he opened the door to Griffith’s bedroom.
And she was, because she was behind Clark, pushing the door open and striding in as though she belonged there.
At least that was what he was hoping—that she would belong with him.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lady,” Clark said with a wink in Griffith’s direction. He shut the door firmly behind himself, and she drew near.
“How did it go?” he asked.
She shrugged. “He won’t be a problem any longer.”
Of course he wanted to know everything, but more importantly, he wanted to know what she would say when he asked her.
“Della, I—” he began.
He stopped speaking when she drew the skirts of her gown up and knelt down on the carpet, looking up at him.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She smiled. “Asking you.”
“Asking me . . . ?”
“My dearest Lord Captain Handsome Enormous Arrogant,” she said in a formal tone of voice. “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my husband?”
As she spoke, she held the fake-engagement ring they’d bought together up to him. Its stones glinted in the light.
“You’re proposing to me?” he asked, glancing between the ring and her face.
She nodded. “I wish to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I won’t promise to obey you—”
“Of course not.”
“But I will trust, honor, and love you forever.”
He put his hand out to take the ring.
“No, not until you answer,” she said, pulling it back.
He got down on the rug too, wrapping her in his arms and gazing at her face. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you. I love you, Della.”
“And I you.”
They both looked at his hand as she slid the ring onto his pinky finger.
“Tell me again,” she said.
“I love you.”
“Now kiss me.”
“So demanding,” he said as he complied.