Page 75 of Stealing the Rake's Heart
He smiled faintly. “Of course I am. I love you, Abigail Atwater.”
There was a pause, the two of them staring at each other, broken only by the gentle pat of falling rain on the roof of the little clearing. Alexander wondered when it had started raining again.
“My aunt said that you weren’t the marrying type,” she said at last. “That you were a rake, and that she liked you, but you weren’t for me.”
“I… I still have nightmares about my father,” Alexander said in a rush. “I drink too much because it makes me feel free, makes me stop worrying. I flirt because I enjoy the attention. I feel as though I’m in control. I loved Diana once. I would have married her, and the hurt of being betrayed stayed with me for quite a while. Perhaps I chose to wrap my heart up in wool to keep it safe, but a person can’t live like that. I do love you, Abigail. I’m not a perfect man, but I am improving every day. Well, most days, at least. I love you. I want to marry you, and if you agree, I swear I will spend every striving to be a man worthy of you.”
“Then my answer is yes,” she said, voice trembling. “I love you too, Alex.”
He barely had time to grin before she’d thrown her arms around his neck and was kissing him. They overbalanced, nearly toppling over, and exploded into hysterical giggles.
“Now that you’ve said yes to marrying me without money,” Alexander said, forehead pressed against hers, “I think I should tell you something else about the terms of my father’s will.”
“What is going on here?”
They both flinched at a familiar, sharp voice, and turned to see Lady Caldecott striding towards them, black as thunder, oblivious to the rain.
“Oh dear,” Alexander muttered. “Do you think I should run, or would she shoot me down like a stag?”
Abigail gave a splutter of laughter. “If you wish to marry me, you can start by asking my aunt for her blessing. She might actually believe you then.”
He grinned down at Abigail, wrapping an arm tight around her shoulders and pulling her close.
“Lady Caldecott,” he called, beckoning her forward into the shelter of the little clearing. “I have something I want to ask you.”
Epilogue
One Month Later
“We all got one,” Katherine said, sighing.
Henry nodded. “It was… it was a strange thing to read.”
Alexander glanced at William, who raised his eyebrows.
“Don’t look at me. I’m nowhere near getting married, so I wouldn’t know.
Alexander looked back down at the crisp white envelope the family solicitor had delivered only half an hour ago.
It was his wedding day, and apparently their father had arranged for all of his children to receive a letter on their wedding day.
“What happens if we don’t marry within the deadline?” he asked.
Katherine shrugged. “I imagine they’re destroyed. Does it matter?”
“Not really, I suppose. How long until I have to be at the church?”
“You have an hour,” Henry advised. “Your friend Hamish is there already, doing some last-minute decorations. Or so he said, I thought there were enough flowers on the aisle, but then my wedding was a little more sober.”
Alexander bit back a smile.
Mary, of course, had wanted the wedding to be a fantastic affair, and was disappointed that she would only have a month to plan it. Half of London was invited, as far as Alexander could tell, and there was to be a tremendous wedding breakfast back at the house afterwards. Abigail was nervous about the crowds, and he often wished that he’d bargained his mother down to a smaller guest list.
It was too late now, of course.
Hamish had not touched a drop of alcohol since the disastrous party. Neither, for that matter, had Alexander.
He felt… better. Fresher and clearer, to be sure. No more headaches and nausea in the morning, no more blurry evenings that he could never quite remember.
