to their table so suddenly Nick was holding her close, steering her around the dance floor, feeling her body mould to his in perfect time with his steps, in perfect time with him.
And she didn’t smell of camphor. She smelled of Rose.
What was she doing? She’d brought this dress with her on a whim, walking out of the house feeling as if she’d betrayed everyone. She hadn’t been worried about what she was wearing. But as her mother-in-law’s weeping had increased, as her father-in-law had wrung his hands and said, ‘Rose, you can’t leave. We love you. You’re our daughter. What would Max think?’ she’d abandoned her distress as too hard and she’d let anger hold sway.
She’d lifted the lid of her camphor chest and had retrieved the dress and shoes that had lain there for what seemed almost a lifetime.
And then, before she’d closed the chest again, she’d taken Max’s photograph from her bedside table and put it where her dress had been.
And had closed the lid.
Then she’d walked out of the house. Free.
No, not free. Still guilt-ridden. Seemingly obligated in some weird way to a country she’d left with the royal family’s scorn following her.
But she wasn’t going back to Yorkshire except to finalise things. No family. No ties. Nick’s question as to her availability couldn’t have been more wrong. If ever anyone else told her they loved her then she’d run a mile.
But she was in this man’s arms.
Yes, and that was great, she told herself as she let him swirl her round the dance floor with an expertise that made her feel wonderful. Erhard’s long letter had filled her in on who Nick was. A loner who’d pulled himself up the hard way. A man whose intelligence was extraordinary. A man with an Aussie accent overlaying his smooth French-Italian native tongue, and a laid-back charm that could knock a girl sideways. Nick was a sophisticated international lawyer who’d come from a background even more dysfunctional than her own.
He was a man who knew where his boundaries were.
So it was fine. Yes, she could marry him to keep Alp de Montez safe, and she could keep her independence. It would finally make her free.
Please.
Five minutes later Erhard returned to the table. The musicians took a break. There was no reason to stay on the dance floor, but as Nick led her back to the table he was aware of a sharp stab of regret.
Only because he loved dancing, he thought. Only that.
Erhard was smiling, watching them weave their way through the tables to join him. The strain had eased from his face a little.
‘Two wonderful dancers,’ he said softly as they sat down again. ‘You see, this thing becomes possible.’ He settled back into his chair and took a long sip of water. ‘Well?’
Nick looked at Rose and found she was watching him. Intently.
It seemed a decision needed to be made. Now. Did that mean Rose had already decided?
‘You need to trust me,’ Erhard told him softly. ‘This is a big ask. We need to trust each other.’
‘It’s fine,’ Rose said, suddenly sounding impatient to move on. Sounding as if she was annoyed. ‘I’m willing to take a chance, so it’s up to you, Nick. If you don’t choose to take part, then say so now. Let Erhard go into damage control and see if there’s another solution.’
‘There’s no other solution,’ Erhard said flatly, and they both went back to watching him.
She’d flung her hat in the ring, just like that. She’d agreed to marry him after knowing him only a matter of hours.
His foundations were shaken, he thought, and it wasn’t just this crazy proposition that was shaking them. It was the way he’d felt, dancing with Rose. The way she’d felt…
He needed a cold shower, and then some good legal advice.
‘You’re holding a gun to my head,’ he snapped, and the old man shook his head.
‘That’s what we’re hoping to avoid. Guns.’
‘You’re serious?’
‘I’m serious,’ Erhard whispered, and the grey look flooded back. How ill was he?
‘So tell us,’ Rose said to Nick directly, with a sideways glance of concern towards Erhard. ‘Are you in or are you out?’
‘I need to do a little more research…’
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Research away. I spent a week on the internet myself. But if you come up with the conclusion I came up with—as you will—are you ready to have a go at fixing things?’
‘You’re seriously asking me to marry you?’
‘I thought you were asking me to marry you.’
‘I guess it’s mutual.’
‘Only I’ve said yes, and you haven’t,’ she said. ‘Go on. It might even be fun.’
‘I don’t do fun.’
‘Neither do I,’ she snapped. ‘Not for years. So we’re perfectly compatible. I’m willing to take a risk on the rest. What about you? Yes or no?’
And there it was. Not a gun pointing at his head, but just possibly a chance to make a difference.
Rose was waiting for him to come to a decision, her grey eyes calmly watchful.
Erhard was waiting too. Two people he instinctively trusted who were trying to do good.
So what was a man to say?
‘Yes,’ he said, and there was a moment’s stunned silence, and then they both beamed.
‘There it is, then,’ Rose said. ‘Proposal accepted. Congratulations to us all, and here comes pudding. Do you think I might have some more champagne?’
CHAPTER THREE
ROSE finished an excellent pudding, but it signalled that the night, for Rose at least, was over. She excused herself without waiting for coffee.
‘I was up before dawn, and I need to walk a bit before bed after all that champagne,’ she told them. ‘No, I don’t want company. I need head-space to plan the next few weeks. There’s so much I need to do. Finding someone to take care of a thousand square-miles of farm animals is the least of it.’
‘If there are no hitches then you can marry in four weeks,’ Erhard said. ‘Marrying in Alp de Montez is the wisest course. Can you be ready then?’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Rose said. She hesitated, and then she stooped and kissed the old man gently on the forehead. ‘You take care of yourself. Please. For me.’
And she left without
