Love in the Afternoon (The Hathaways #5)(60)

“Yes, what is it?”

“Could you leave off drinking strong liquor, and only have wine from now on? I know that you use spirits as a medicine to treat your other problems, but it’s possible that it actually makes them worse, and—”

“There’s no need to talk me into it, love. I’ve already resolved to do that.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him, pleased.

“There’s only one other thing I’ll ask of you,” Christopher said. “No more dangerous activities, such as climbing trees or training half-wild horses, or removing feral animals from traps, and so forth.”

Beatrix glanced at him in mute protest, resisting the prospect of any curtailment on her freedom.

Christopher understood. “I won’t be unreasonable,” he said quietly. “But I’d rather not have to worry about you being injured.”

“People are injured all the time. Women’s skirts catch fire, or people are thrown down by vehicles thundering along the road, or they trip and fall—”

“Precisely my point. Life is dangerous enough without your tempting fate.”

It occurred to Beatrix that her family had placed far fewer restrictions on her than a husband would. She had to remind herself that marriage would have compensations as well.

“. . . I have to go to Riverton soon,” Christopher was saying. “I have much to learn about running an estate, not to mention the timber market. According to the estate manager, the production of Riverton timber is inconsistent. And a new railway station is being built in the region, which is to our benefit only if good roads are laid out. I have to take part in the planning, or I’ll have no right to complain later.” He stopped and turned Beatrix to face him. “I know how close you are to your family. Could you bear to live away from them? We’ll keep Phelan House, but our main residence would be at Riverton.”

It was a striking thought, living away from her family. They had been her entire world. Especially Amelia, her one great constant. The idea touched a note of anxiety in Beatrix, but also excitement. A new home—new people, new places to explore . . . and Christopher. Most of all, Christopher.

“I believe I could,” Beatrix said. “I would miss them. But most of the time I’m left to my own devices here. My siblings are occupied with their families and their lives, which is as it should be. As long as I could travel to see them when I wished, I think I would be happy.”

Christopher fondled her cheek, his knuckles sliding delicately against the side of her throat. There was understanding in his eyes, and sympathy, and something else that caused her skin to flush.

“Whatever your happiness requires,” he said, “you’ll have it.” Easing her closer, he kissed her forehead, working down to the tip of her nose. “Beatrix. Now I have something to ask you.” His lips found the curve of her smiling mouth. “My love . . . I would choose the small sum of hours I’ve spent with you over a lifetime spent with another woman. You never needed to write that note, asking me to find you. I’ve wanted to find you my entire life. I don’t think there’s a man alive who could be all the things you deserve in a husband . . . but I beg you to let me try. Will you marry me?”

Beatrix pulled his head down to hers, and brought her lips close to his ear. “Yes, yes, yes,” she whispered, and for no reason at all other than she wanted to, she caught the edge of his ear lightly with her teeth.

Startled by the love nip, Christopher looked down at her. Beatrix’s breath quickened as she saw the promises of retribution and pleasure in his eyes. He pressed a hard kiss against her lips.

“What kind of wedding would you like?” he asked, and stole another kiss before she could reply.

“The kind that turns you into my husband.” She touched the firm line of his mouth with her fingers. “What kind would you like?”

He smiled ruefully. “A fast one.”

Chapter Nineteen

Christopher supposed he should take it as a bad sign that within a fortnight he had become entirely comfortable around his future in-laws. Whereas he had once avoided them for their peculiarities, he now sought out their company, spending nearly every evening at Ramsay House.

The Hathaways squabbled, laughed, and genuinely seemed to like each other, which made them different from any other family of Christopher’s experience. They were interested in everything, new ideas, inventions, and discoveries. No doubt the family’s intellectual bent was a result of the influence of their late father, Edward.

Christopher sensed that the happy, often chaotic household was doing him good, whereas the clamor of London had not. Somehow the Hathaways, with all their rough edges, were smoothing the broken places of his soul. He liked all of them, especially Cam, who acted as the leader of the family, or the tribe, as he referred to them. Cam was a soothing presence, calm and tolerant, occasionally herding the Hathaways along when necessary.

Leo wasn’t quite so approachable. Although he was charming and irreverent, the sharp edges of his humor reminded Christopher uncomfortably of his own past, when he had often made quips at other people’s expense. For example, that remark he had once made about Beatrix belonging in the stables. Which he still didn’t remember saying, except that unfortunately it sounded exactly like something he would have said. He hadn’t fully understood the power of words then.