A Wedding In Springtime(114)

“I am sorry,” said Genie in a small voice, her hands clasped before her.

“Well, you should be. You have ruined me. Utterly ruined. I used to have a reputation, a certain notoriety about Town, and now since meeting you, everything I once was has been wrenched from me. I can look at nothing the same way. I have feelings in my chest I cannot recognize. And now this!” Grant took a small flask from his interior coat pocket and thrust it at her.

“A flask?” asked Genie meekly.

“Drink it!” he demanded.

“But I don’t drink—”

“Drink it, I say!”

Genie thought Grant in a strange humor and decided it best to oblige him. She took a sip and swirled the tart contents around her mouth. “Lemonade?”

“Lemonade!” he declared savagely. “And I lay the blame for my downfall entirely at your feet.”

“I suppose I should say I am sorry?”

“But you are not, I see. You have ruined me utterly and completely and rejoice in your success.” If Grant was jesting with her, he did not look it. He was agitated, perspiration on his brow. Even locked in the cellar he had not appeared in such distress.

“Do not worry yourself over me. I shall return home soon, there can be no doubt of that.”

“No, no you will not. You will not be returning to your parents’ home any time soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Grant paused and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He took a deep breath as if searching for courage and took Genie’s hands in his. “What I mean is…” A candle flickered in the window, which seemed to agitate him even more. “No time. Must show you.”

Grant pulled Genie into his arms and kissed her, softly at first, then harder, with more urgency. Genie wrapped her hands around his neck and leaned into him for stability when her knees turned weak. Grant may have his shortcomings, but the art of kissing did not count among them. Genie pressed closer and returned the kiss until her toes curled.

With a sudden flash, they were bathed in light and the sound of a collective gasp shattered her ears. Genie pulled back to see the shocked faces of her aunt, uncle, brother George, and a veritable who’s who of London society. She had done it now. She was utterly ruined.

Grant never took his eyes from her. He got down on one knee and took her by the hand. “Miss Talbot, you are the most amazing woman of my acquaintance. I thought my life complete, but it was nothing but a mere sketch. You have given my life color. Would you do me the greatest honor and consent to be…” Grant paused and swallowed compulsively. “If you would consent to be… that is to say.”

The crowd began to titter and crept closer. Grant glanced at the crowd and immediately turned his head away. “My mother and sisters have returned,” he whispered to the ground.

“You do not have to do this,” whispered Genie, squeezing his hand.

“Yes, yes I do.” Grant looked up, meeting her eyes. He cleared his throat and said in a voice loud enough to be heard in the parlor, “Genie Talbot, will you marry me?”

A wave of something hot washed through her and wrenched her breath away. She was frozen, unable to respond, unable to breathe.

Grant squeezed her hand, concern growing in his eyes. “Say yes,” he mouthed to her, “please.”

Genie shook her head. “I never meant to trap you,” she whispered.

Grant stood and clutched her shoulders, drawing her close. “My dear girl, it is I who have trapped you. Please be my bride.”

Genie smiled; she could not help it. How could she say anything but, “Yes!”

Grant reached into his pocket and produced a ring. It was a very old and unusual ring, made of three strands of metal plaited together, gold, silver, and steel. “This ring has been handed down in my family for generations. It is only to be given to one’s true love.” Though his voice was strong, his fingers trembled when he put the ring on her finger. “Genie, you are my one true love.”

Grant drew her close for another kiss even as the crowd began to cheer. At first, Genie clamped her jaw shut, self-conscious to be kissed before strangers, but within seconds, Grant’s soft lips made her forget they were being watched.

“William, my dear boy, my dear boy!” cried a woman with emotion heavy in her voice.

Genie broke from him at the words that could only be from Grant’s mother. Genie’s heart raced faster with anticipation of censure. What must his mother think of her?