Moonlight Over Paris(88)

“You were that upset with me?”

“Only at first. I was about halfway across the Atlantic when I came to my senses. I actually sent you a cable from the ship, but you must have left Paris by then.”

“I thought you had left without saying good-bye,” she said, her throat clogging with sudden tears.

“The thing is, Ellie, you were right about everything. I had been living in fear, and it was time I faced up to it. I had no right to criticize you, none at all, because you are the most courageous person I know.”

“So you’ve come back to take over Howard Steel?”

“No,” he said flatly.

She went to the sofa and sat down. It was that or crumple slowly to the floor. “I don’t understand. I thought you came home to take over from your father.”

“When I left Paris, that’s what I planned to do. But that lasted for less than a week. By the time I arrived, I knew I couldn’t do it. Not even for my parents could I do it. That’s the first thing I told them.”

“How did they react?”

“They were disappointed, of course, but then I explained everything. I think they understand now.”

The effort to make sense of Sam’s revelations was very nearly making her dizzy. “If you aren’t taking over, who is?”

“No one. A buyer approached my father a while back, and we’ve agreed to sell the company to him. Nearly all the proceeds will go to a charitable trust that my parents will manage. Eventually I’ll take over, but only to disburse the funds to charity.

“You need to know that I’m walking away from the money. There will be some set aside for my children, but nothing like my father’s millions. That’s one of the things I’ve been struggling with all this time. What to do about all that money.”

“It must be a relief,” she said. “If only because rich men rarely make great writers. Or great artists, for that matter.”

He swayed on his feet, and only then did she see how pale he was, and how dark the shadows were under his eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping all that well,” he admitted. “Perhaps I should—”

She reached out and grasped his hand, and then she pulled him closer until he was seated next to her on the sofa.

“Now it’s my turn,” she began, her heart so full she could scarcely speak. “I came to America to tell you that I was wrong. You are brave and I am proud of you. And you need to know that I love you. I lied to you in January, when I said I was content with being your friend. I want that, yes, but I want more, too.”

“Thank God for that. Because I love you, too, and I do want more from you. I’m not prepared to settle for less. Not anymore.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch infinitely gentle and reassuring. “I’ve a very important question to ask you now. What’s your middle name?”

“I’ve several,” she said, a little puzzled by his request. “I’m Helena Mary Angela et cetera et cetera.”

“Right, then.” He pulled a small, square box from his coat pocket, and, dropping to his knees before her, opened the lid and held it out. Inside was an old-fashioned diamond ring, the oval central stone surrounded by sapphire petals set in gold.

“Helena Mary Angela et cetera et cetera, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”

“I will,” she said, her heart suddenly so full that it hurt to breathe.

She held out her left hand, so he might fit the ring on her finger, and with her right hand she pinched her leg, hard, just to make sure her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her.

“It’s my grandmother’s ring. I confessed everything to my parents at dinner yesterday. This morning, Mother came to see me at work. She said she couldn’t stand to see me so unhappy, and she all but ordered me to return to Paris and sort things out with you. And she gave me the ring.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Do you want to have the wedding back in England with your family?”

“Not especially,” she said, thinking back to Rose’s uninspiring nuptials. “Perhaps we could have something quiet, here in New York, and then have a party in Paris with all our friends?”

He answered her with a kiss. It began as a delicate and respectful gesture, one that was perfectly suited to the emotion and solemnity of the moment, but Helena was done with chaste and tender kisses from the man she loved. She contrived to open her mouth a fraction, just enough that she might touch her tongue to his lips, and that was enough to push him over the edge. An instant later he was sitting on the sofa, she was astride his lap, and he was kissing her so passionately that she thought she might actually swoon, although she hadn’t worn a corset in years and had always been a levelheaded sort of person.

Sam pulled away first, gasping for breath as he set his chin on top of her head and pulled her tight against his chest. “God, Ellie. You’re going to kill me. Let’s see about getting a marriage license first.”

“Slave to convention. That’s what you are.”

“I’m afraid of your aunt Agnes, that’s what I am.”

“She lived in sin with Dimitri for years, so I doubt—”

“Don’t tempt me. That reminds me. We need to visit my parents, or my mother will have my head.”