Page 34 of Under the Champagne Moon
Watching Helena’s struggles made her realize she’d been taking the coward’s way out. Gareth was right: she needed to visit this woman who claimed to be her grandmother.
And, oh, if he would have her, if he would ask her again, there was no one better than Gareth to journey with.
When she entered the parlor, the heated conversation in progress halted.
Morledge stood, looking trapped between Haskell and Gareth. Mr. Sherington pushed himself to his feet.
“The crying has stopped,” Morledge said. “Is the child still alive?”
Fleur gasped. “Indeed, he is, Mr. Morledge. And so is his little brother. Helena has delivered twin boys.”
The color drained from Morledge’s face and then rose again in a flare of anger. “Gloat if you will, but many infants die unexpectedly.”
Gareth gripped his arm. “Are you threatening murder?”
Morledge tried to pull away. “I’m saying what’s true. Why, a careless nursemaid, a fall down the stairs, a passing fever?—”
“Morledge,” Mr. Sherington said. “I caution you to stop speaking. There are four witnesses here. If something should happen to either lad, some accident, why, you have motive, and you are discussing means.”
“It’s too unbelievable. After a passel of girls, she has two boys? I would see these babies.”
“It’s best if you would leave,” Sherington said.
Morledge stuttered a protest. Gareth and Haskell exchanged a look, Mr. Sherington nodded, and Fleur scurried out of the way as the men grabbed the villain’s elbows, carted him to the front door, and all but tossed him out.
They were dusting their hands and grinning like two schoolboys when the knocker sounded again. Gareth’s frowned and yanked open the door.
Etienne Marceau stumbled in. “I say.” He glanced over his shoulder. Morledge was climbing intoa cart. “That’s my cart,” Marceau called.
“Let him go,” Gareth said.“We’ve just tossed him out.”
Marceau frowned. “Bad news, my friend?”
Gareth clapped him on the back and laughed. “The lady of the house has just had twin boys. Fleur, may we make your cousin welcome?”
She threw up her hands. “Why not? Make introductions and I’ll go find some brandy.”
“But look,” Marceau said, drawing a bottle out of the pocket of his great coat. “I have brought champagne.”
Gareth exchanged a look with the Frenchman and then crossed the room to take her hands.
“Brandy would be welcome as well. If you please, Fleur, tell me where it is, and I’ll fetch it.”
The tenderness in his voice rendered her speechless. She shook her head and pulled her hands free.
As she hurried away, she heard Gareth whisper, “We haven’t got that far yet. Fleur has been busy.”
He’d spoken in French.
She sniffed, swiped at a tear, and made her way to the butler’s pantry.
By the timeshe returned to the parlor, she’d composed herself. Dulcinea had joined Sherington on the sofa. Haskell and Marceau stood eyeing each other warily.
Gareth hurried over, took the tray with the bottle and glasses and set it aside.
He grasped her hands and dropped to one knee, and her heart froze. Before she could summon her brain, he spoke.
“I won’t wait another moment, Fleur.” He spoke loudly enough to be heard in the next county. “I love you. Would you make me the happiest of men? Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
