Page 99 of Ghost in the Garden
She had accused him once of being a stranger to happiness, to those moments of pure joy that made life so precious. She had vowed to find happiness for him, and yet never imagined it would be in a mere dance.
And somehow that was perfection. In wonder, she danced on, utterly lost in the moment that should never end.
It did, of course, as the dance came to a close, and she no longer had the excuse to touch him, to hold his hand and gaze into his eyes like a moonling. But it seemed the communication remained, for as one, they walked out of the drawing room and back downstairs.
She would not draw attention to her presence by seeking out Lady Swan, although she would write her a polite note tomorrow. Solomon murmured something to the footman in the hall, and after only a moment, he placed her evening cloak about her shoulders. His touch made her shiver with awareness once more.
Solomon’s carriage awaited them—when had he ordered it?—and he handed her inside. He sat down beside her, not touching, though as soon as the horses moved forward, he swiveled and took both her hands in his.
“Constance. I have something to ask you now.”
Reality walloped her, almost like a physical blow. The warmth drained from her, leaving her suddenly anguished.
“Don’t, Sol,” she whispered. “Please don’t.”
“Why not?” he asked ruefully.
“Because I don’t know if I’ll have the strength… Hasn’t it been a wonderful evening?”
“It has. Which is why I have to ask. I cannot go on like this, Constance, with so much simmering beneath the surface. I need…” He caught his breath. “No. First, I want you to know that you are always my friend. Whatever you do or say tonight, whatever decisions we come to, you and I will always be friends. Yes?”
Then don’t speak, don’t ask, because I’m not sure I can forgive…
And yet why not? He was right. Even if she could never meet him or look at him again, even if there were no more mysteries together, on some level they would always be friends.
“Yes,” she said shakily. “But please leave it there. Don’t—”
“Will you marry me, Constance?” he said desperately.
Something thudded into her stomach, probably her heart. She could not have heard him aright. She only knew her jaw dropped when she tried to speak. Hastily, she closed her mouth, swallowed, and tried again.
“Wh-what did you say?”
A frown flickered across his brow. “I’ve taken you by surprise,” he said slowly, searching her eyes. “What did you think I was going to ask you?”
What men always asked her. The transaction she could not bear with him. But that was not what he’d asked.
“I realize I am probably mad or deaf,” she said shakily, “but what you just said sounded ridiculously like a proposal of marriage.”
“Why ridiculous?”
“Because you’re hugely wealthy and terribly respectable, and I’m the madam of a brothel!”
“We both know what you really are. And what the world says about me behind my back, if not to my face. None of that matters to us. Will you marry me?”
“But…butwhy?”
His Adam’s apple jerked, but still he held her gaze. “Because I don’t like being without you. Because you infuriate me and make me laugh and think and…you make me happy.” His fingers tightened on hers. “And I love you, God help me. I love you. And if you don’t yet love me, there is something…”
He trailed off, for without meaning to she had wriggled one hand free and reached up to touch his face with wonder. Annoyed by her gloves, she tugged them off and cupped his face in both trembling hands.
“You love me,” she whispered in wonder. “Youloveme. In spite of everything…”
“Becauseof everything. It just is.”
She trailed her fingers across his lips, which could kiss so fiendishly, so tenderly. “I never thought… I never imagined…”
“Will you risk it?” he asked. “With me? If not, we are still friends. There is still Silver and Grey. But this feeling, this need, is eating me up inside,gnawing…”
