obscure, aren’t you? Forcing me to drag each bit of information from you.”
“Actually, I’m trying not to crow too loudly at what Gabe found in Ferdie’s study. Other than your sister’s letters, Ferdie had hidden away some other papers that spell out, quite clearly, that he has been corresponding with a small, rather volatile group of Irish sympathizers bent on revolution. You’ll remember that he spent several years in Ireland. It appears he used at least some of that time forging alliances.”
“But...but that’s treason.”
Coop’s smile was both wicked and amused. “I adore how quick your mind is to come to the correct conclusion, or at least the one that matters most to anyone who would rather not spend another moment wondering what the bastard might think up next to revenge himself on me. We doubt there’s any true conviction or loyalty involved in Ferdie’s schemes, but there was mention made of a very large estate just outside Dublin being transferred to him.”
“Do you think he knows you know?”
“Actually, two gentlemen representing themselves as agents of the Crown demanded entry to his domicile last evening, something Ferdie would have learned when he returned home. It’s highly possible he then checked on the contents of his clever hidey-hole and discovered a few pertinent items missing.”
“You and Gabe bullied your way past the servants and ransacked Ferdie’s study to find Mari’s letters and fell straight into a honeypot of evidence against the marquis. Wouldn’t that be the way it happened?”
“Again, my compliments.” Then he grinned. “Ah, Dany, it was fun. I shouldn’t say that, admit to it, but Gabe and I enjoyed every moment last night. Finding the evidence against Ferdie? That made it all even better. I expect he’ll be arrested later today, if not already facing some very probing questions. Gabe went directly to one of his friends at the Royal War Office first thing this morning, you understand. And now we’re here, with some unfinished business of our own.”
He pulled the curricle straight around to the stables and handed Dany down to the ground, taking her hand as he led her across the lush grass, the gazebo soon visible, and everyone either standing about or sitting at one of the tables set beside it.
Minerva. The duke and duchess. Clarice and Rigby, Thea and Gabe. Darby, standing off on his own, propping up one post of the gazebo. The only people missing were Mari and Oliver, but she knew where they were, and could only imagine they wouldn’t mind not being included.
“We’re having a celebration?”
“Hopefully,” Coop said, squeezing her hand.
She looked up at him, even as she returned cheery waves from the group. Did he sound nervous? He did; he sounded nervous. What on earth?
“Your Graces, friends, thank you for being here, to lend your support at this time,” he said as he stopped a good ten feet from them all and bowed as Dany, now equally as nervous, dropped into a curtsy.
“As you are all well aware, it has been quite the eventful week. Early on during that time, with judgment fairly clouded, and decisions made in haste, Miss Foster here suddenly found herself caught up in a sham betrothal to a man she supposed to be the hero of Quatre Bras.”
“You are the hero of Quatre Bras,” she objected, but then bit her lip, for she had begun to realize what was happening, and she didn’t know whether to run or cry or simply stay where she was while her entire world fell apart.
“But the danger has passed, and it’s time to make amends, not to go back and change events, because that is impossible, but to make clear to all that Miss Foster—Dany—is not to be held to her agreement any longer, and I hereby release her from any obligation she might feel.”
Dany couldn’t breathe. Her entire body had gone numb.
Everyone was looking at her.
Nobody said a word, not a single word.
“Dany,” Coop whispered. “Give me the ring.”
She looked at him, unable to believe what was happening. How could he do this?
“Dany. Please. Give me the ring.”
Her gaze locked with his, she stripped off her glove and handed him the ring.
“Thank you.”
“I should have thrown it in the stream,” she told him, even as her bottom lip trembled, even as she longed to fling herself into his arms and remind him that he’d left it a little too late to play the honorable gentleman.
But she’d known they’d just been pretending. Even as she’d given herself to him, she’d told herself that she could be content with that, and nothing more.
“Will you take me home now? Please.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said. “But first...”
Taking her hands in his, he dropped to one knee in the grass.
“Miss Daniella Foster,” he said in a clear, carrying voice easily heard by all. “Although I have proven myself unworthy in so many ways, my deep love and affection for you will not allow me to sink into despair without first asking you if you will consider sharing the rest of our lives together. Dany, dearest, dearest Dany, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“You...” She looked at everyone watching them, Minerva softly weeping into a handkerchief, Clarice all but dancing as she hung on to her Rigby, everyone watching, waiting. “Them...? You all...you planned this? Do you know how you frightened me? All because you wanted to be honorable? All because you wanted me to know that the sham betrothal is gone and now we’re starting from— Oh, Coop, I do love you. Yes, yes.” She turned to their audience. “Yes! I said yes!”
DANY SNUGGLED AGAINST Coop as they reclined against a wide tree trunk, the two of them looking out over the stream. Remnants of their meal lay scattered on the blanket, and from time to time he lifted her hand to his mouth, kissing the ring he now saw as the true promise of their shared lives.
“Forgive me yet?” he asked her when she sighed, hopefully in contentment.
“I do. But you could have just told me, couldn’t you? I would have understood.”
“I wanted everyone to know, to see. Darby most particularly, since he was feeling guilty about having come up with the idea of a sham engagement in the first place. Now there’s no question. I love you, Daniella Foster. In fact, I’m fairly dotty about you.”
“But Darby isn’t. You did notice that, didn’t you? He smiled and kissed my hand, and said all the right things, but he seemed distracted, as if still bothered by something.”
“That’s because he is. He took me aside while you and the ladies were talking, and told me about a letter he found waiting for him when he arrived here this morning. It seems our friend has found himself in a bit of a pickle.”
“Don’t say pickle. I don’t even want to see a pickle for another five years. What’s wrong?”
