we climbed down from the carriage, Rose stared in awe, reminding me to close my mouth and stop gawking. “My goodness, Mr. Hazelton, your sister has described Risings to me, and indeed I’ve heard of its beauty, but nothing prepared me for its sheer size.”
“Is this your first visit?” George looked surprised. “I’d thought surely you’d been here with Fiona.”
I took his arm as we all headed for the entrance, gravel crunching under our shoes. “The first time I visited your sister, she was already a married woman with a country home of her own.”
“Then you must allow me to give you a tour,” he said as a gray-haired, painfully thin butler bowed us inside.
We entered a great hall, as large as a ballroom, walled with carved oak panels, and topped with windows that reached up to the two-story ceiling where three chandeliers were suspended. The housekeeper, Mrs. Ansel, waited in the entry to take everyone up to their rooms. Once they’d freshened up, tea would be served in the drawing room.
George held my arm when I would have joined the group heading up the stairs and sent Mrs. Ansel on without me. “Lady Nash will be joining us shortly. She wished to greet Lady Harleigh.”
“I am here now.” Fiona’s voice rang through the hall as she entered from a door at the opposite end. Her shoes tapped on the marble floor as she sailed across the room, holding out her hands to take mine. Fiona was one of only a few ladies of my acquaintance taller than I, and as she looked down her narrow nose and into my eyes, I could see true happiness glowing in hers. She was the only person I’d informed of the understanding between George and me, and this was our first meeting since I’d sent that letter, so I could well understand her enthusiasm.
She nearly burst with joy, bouncing on the balls of her feet until her chestnut coiffure threatened to come tumbling around her shoulders. Once Nanny arrived to take Rose to her room up in the nursery, and only the three of us remained in the hall, she caught my hands in hers.
“Frances, I cannot properly convey my delight that you and George are to be married.” She gave my hands one final squeeze and released me in favor of her brother, declaring he had made her the happiest of sisters.
“Your happiness was uppermost in our minds, Fi,” George replied, earning him a poke in the chest.
“Now, I suppose I should leave the two of you alone. I know George plans to keep you to himself and show you the house.” She kissed the air near my cheek. “Welcome to Risings, Frances. I planned a meeting with the vicar this afternoon, so come find me when you are through with George.”
With that, she was off and George and I were finally alone.
“I missed you,” he said.Taking my hand he lead me across the hall and through ornate double doors to the drawing room.
“I saw you just yesterday,” I said, though I was thrilled to hear I’d been missed.
“That’s one day too long.” As he whispered the words his breath tickled my ear and his arm encircled my waist.
I turned around within the enclosure of his arms. “Well, I’m here now.”
“There you are!”
George and I leaped apart as Lottie Evingdon came bounding into the room like a puppy, her flailing arms disturbing an arrangement of framed photographs on a nearby table. Though several of them wobbled, none hit the floor. For Lottie, I’d count that as a triumphant entrance.
She took my hands and spread them wide as if looking me over. There was likely no more change in me over the last two months than I saw in her. Her dark ginger hair still refused to stay where her maid pinned it, a smudge of ink marred one creamy cheek, and a shawl had fallen from her shoulders and now lay on the floor. “I was so excited to hear you were all to join us. This is the first I’ve seen of you since my wedding.”
Lottie Evingdon, formerly Deaver, was a friend of Lily’s from New York. She’d come to stay with us last summer and met my cousin, and George’s friend, Charles Evingdon. They fell in love while we were all trying to prove him innocent of murder. Perhaps the fact that I’d allowed her near an accused murderer means I’m not the best of chaperones, but given the fact that they married, it all worked out in the end.
Except she’d just interrupted what might have been a tender moment between George and me. I supposed I’d better get used to it. This was a house party, so it was likely to happen more often than not.
We chatted for a moment and I sent her off to find Lily. Once she departed, I turned to George. “Is there perhaps a more secluded part of the house you could show me?”
“An excellent idea.” With a smile, he took my arm and led me out of the drawing room and into a gallery that ran behind the great hall and connected the two wings. He drew me outside to a formal garden in the courtyard at the back of the house.
“There’s something I want to show you,” he said, pausing in the middle of the courtyard between a fountain and a tall spray of asters.
“Indeed? Is it a flower?”
He removed a small box from his pocket and held it between his finger and thumb. “It’s a ring.” His lips quirked into a crooked smile. “A betrothal ring.”
My hands fluttered before my chest until I clasped them together and brought them to my lips to cover a squeak of excitement. I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. “Forgive me, George. I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl.”
“I can’t recall the last time I was this nervous.” He held the box before me and opened the lid to reveal a single round diamond in a setting of intricate gold latticework, studded with more tiny diamonds.
I gasped. “It’s beautiful!”
“Then you like it?”
I tore my gaze away from the ring to look at his face. His brows were drawn down in concern. An uneasy smile played on his lips. “You truly are nervous,” I said.
“I had it commissioned the very day after you agreed to marry me. Then we decided to wait to make a public announcement until after your sister’s wedding. I’ve had it for over a month and each time I look at it, I worry you won’t like it.”
“It’s perfect.” I reached up to caress his cheek. “I can’t imagine anything more beautiful.”
He blew out a breath of relief and, taking my hand, dropped a kiss into my palm, and another on my lips, then moved to return the ring to his pocket.
I stilled his hand. “Wait. May I not try it on?”
“No, you may not.” The box disappeared into his coat. “I know you can’t wear it yet, and I refuse to put it on your finger only to take it off again.”
I stared in disbelief, my mouth drooped open. “What was the point of showing it to me only to put it back in your pocket?”
“What is the point of a betrothal that must be kept secret?”
I went numb. Had he torn off his clothes and jumped into the fountain, I couldn’t have been more stunned. “What do you mean?”
He turned
