A Holiday by Gaslight(44)

He loved her.

Her heart swelled in her breast at his declaration. For the first time in her life, she feared she might actually fall into a swoon. “You really love me, Ned?” she asked softly. And then: “Wait…what rejection?”

“The one you were going to give me this evening.” He reached for her, his hand coming to cradle her cheek in that way of his. He regarded her steadily, his blue gaze as solemn as it was tender. “And yes, my darling girl. I really do love you.”

She blinked as tears stung her eyes. “Then you’ll marry me?”

He gave a short, husky laugh. “My God, yes.”

Sophie smiled. And though that smile might be a little watery, Ned didn’t seem to mind. He looked at her for a moment longer, as if she were the finest thing he’d ever seen, then his head bent to hers and he kissed her.

She brought her arms to circle his neck, clinging to him as his lips moved on hers. He kissed her slowly, deeply, claiming her mouth with a thoroughness that left them both breathless. And she kissed him in return, sweetly, ever so sweetly, until he pulled back with a groan to rest his forehead against hers.

“Sophie,” he said in a husky murmur.

She let her fingers run through the hair at his nape. “I like you like this. Your hair disheveled and your cravat rumpled. It’s much less intimidating than how you looked in London.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “And how was that?”

“Too cold. Too perfect. And far too quiet for me to know what you were thinking. That wasn’t the real you.”

“No. It was…” He trailed off, eyes closing as Sophie moved her lips over his in the barest whisper of a kiss.

“What?”

“Bad advice. From a book.”

She drew back to look at him. “What sort of book?”

It was dark, the only light coming from the small lamp on the sleigh, but Sophie could have sworn that a flush crept into Ned’s cheeks. “An etiquette book. For gentlemen.

Her brows lifted.

“I bought it at Hatchard’s the day your father gave me permission to court you. Suffice to say, the advice within its pages wasn’t as practical as the sort offered by your Mr. Darwin.”

“Mr. Darwin doesn’t write etiquette books.”

“No, indeed. And yet, I suspect you’ve been using his teachings as a guide. Trying to adapt yourself to rapidly changing circumstances. To acclimate yourself to marrying a tradesman.”

It was her turn to blush. “Perhaps in the beginning.”

“And now?”

“I still think it rather sensible. The world is changing. We can’t keep doing the same thing anymore, can we?”

“No. But it’s not going to be easy for you, Sophie. There’s much you’ll have to give up. The society matrons in London—”

“I don’t give a fig about them. If they want to shun me, they may do so with my good wishes. I’ve never sought the approval of the beau monde.” She slid her hand around the back of his neck. “At the moment, I’m more concerned with the approval of your mother.”

“You already have it.” Ned paused before adding, “Though she’s a bit out of temper with you for rejecting me this evening.”

“But I didn’t—”

“Never mind my mother. Look up, Sophie.”

The night sky was lit with stars. They twinkled like diamonds nestled on a bed of black velvet. She inhaled a soft breath at the perfect beauty of it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d kiss you under the stars?” Ned murmured into her ear.

“That’s not just any star, Ned.” She urged his gaze heavenward. “That’s the Christmas star.”

They fell quiet for a time, both of them looking up at the star that shone so much more brightly than the others. “Well,” Ned said finally, “if that isn’t fortuitous for this partnership, I don’t know what is.”

“A partner,” Sophie repeated. “Is that how you think of me?”

He made a soft sound of assent as he enfolded her back into his embrace. “Not very romantic, is it? But I don’t want you to feel powerless with me. I value your intelligence and your strength. I’d rather you stood at my side than in my shadow.”

She tightened her arms around his neck, blinking rapidly against another swell of tears. “I think that may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

His lips brushed over her damp cheek. He held her fast for a long while, the bells on the horses’ bridles the only sound in the star-studded darkness.

“Come,” he said at last, his hands moving over the curve of her spine. “Let’s go back to the house before you and the horses turn into icicles. There’s a blazing fire in the drawing room. And your mother said something about iced gingerbread cake.”

She hugged him tighter. “Yes, by all means. We still have Christmas to celebrate.”

“We do.” He pressed one last soft kiss to her temple. “This Christmas and all the Christmases to come.”





Christmas Day

December, 1861

Though Emily’s betrothal was effectively still a secret, Sophie had no compunction about sharing the news of her own engagement with the entire world. Her betrothal to Ned was announced to their respective families on Christmas Eve and to the rest of the guests on Christmas Day. There were a few whispers from the gentry, but among the villagers, the news was met with near unanimous approbation.