She straightened, wary once again. “What is it?” Her eyes narrowed. “My portion being thrice the size I expected means that my dowry is also three times larger, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” he agreed. “But I don’t want it.”
“You don’t want six thousand pounds?” she said with obvious skepticism.
“I don’t need it,” he clarified. “The founder of the firm I worked for has offered me more money than you can imagine if I return to my old post. In less than five years, I’d be able to afford to purchase a tea room outright with the coins in my pocket.”
“In five years, the tea room you love so much will no longer be sitting empty,” she pointed out. “And you don’t want to work in a dreary office. You’re a chef. You belong in the kitchen.”
“Which brings me to the second reason I don’t need your dowry. I didn’t think I could work in someone else’s kitchen. But I can. I just did. I even invented a modified dessert based on no recipe at all, because I had no other choice.”
“You did?” She clapped her hands.
“I’ve proven to myself that I need never step foot in my old office again. Even if it takes twenty years instead of five, by toiling in someone else’s kitchen, I will one day own my own tea room. And I will enjoy every moment of my work between now and then.”
“That’s wonderful,” she gushed. “Except for the part where you’re two decades away from a tea room.”
“You want to know why I don’t mind about that?”
She nodded.
“Here’s why. There’s one thing I want even more than the tea room of my dreams.”
“What is it?”
“Who is it,” he corrected softly. “You. The woman of my dreams. I love you, Allegra. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know you don’t want to be any man’s wife. Therefore, I offer myself to you as your Not-Husband, just like I was Not-Captain L’Amour.”
“My…not-husband?”
“I propose that you do not marry me, just as you wished. I propose we stay together forever anyway. On your terms. Whatever they might be. You can play the pianoforte in my future tea room, or you can dole out five minutes a week of your company. I accept all scraps. I propose that half of my substantial savings be placed in a trust in your name, so that no matter what happens to me or to us, you never again need worry about having enough money to support yourself and live the life you deserve.”
“You’re proposing to give me…my independence?”
“I’m proposing to give you myself. All of me. As much of me as you want. For a day, for a decade, for always. I put myself and my heart in your hands. What you choose to do with it, is up to you.”
Chapter 22
Allegra’s pulse fluttered as she gazed up at John. His heartbeat beneath her palm did the same. He’d just given her the most romantic Not-Marriage Proposal she could have ever imagined.
“You said my future is up to me,” she said hesitantly.
He squeezed her hands. “It is.”
“It sounds like you mean our future.”
“Insofar as whether we have one or not?” He gave a crooked smile. “Obviously, I’m hoping the answer is yes. But what that looks like is indeed up to you. Though it would bring me joy to be there by your side.”
“I’ve known what my future would look like since the moment I turned sixteen and was told I would not have a season.”
“I imagine it didn’t look like playing the pianoforte in a solicitor’s tea shop,” he said wryly.
“It looked like solitude,” she admitted. “It looked like time to myself. It looked like lazy mornings and lazier afternoons, with nowhere to be and no one to answer to. My inheritance has always been my one chance for independence. Music to my ears. Freedom to live for myself, at last.”
The light faded from his eyes. “And here I am, begging to intrude on the solitude you’ve dreamt of for fourteen years.”
“The thing about dreams,” she said softly, “is that they aren’t real. Eventually, you wake up. Maybe your imagination is far better than the life you actually live. And maybe your real life turns out better than your dreams.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Which situation is yours?”
“I thought I wanted eternal solitude. Me, a piano, an empty room…what else could I need? It sounded easy. I yearned for easy. But you showed me another path.”
He let out a bark of laughter. “Because I do everything the hard way?”
“Because you’re willing to take the difficult route. Cooking for all these people in a strange kitchen wasn’t easy for you, but you did it, and it was glorious.” She tugged him forward so that he could see the small table bearing a tray of empty dishes, hidden beside the pianoforte bench.
“The footmen brought every course out here?”
“Insisted upon it.” She patted her stomach. “I have never had a better meal. I’ve also never had half as much fun as I did playing my own creations at the Oswald soirée and here again tonight. I’ve been playing for hours and the evening is far from over, yet there’s nowhere I’d rather be. People enjoying my music. Dancing to my reels.”
“Of course they are. I feel like dancing every time I look at you. Listening to your music is transcendental.”
Her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. I’ve learned it’s all right to want contradictory things. To long for the limelight, and to also need some time alone. Solitude is splendid, so long as it isn’t fear holding one back from what one actually wishes to do.”
“You wish to be a professional pianist, and surround yourself with audiences who adore your music as much as I do?”
“I wish to never again spend a night in solitude. I wish to surround myself with your strong arms and your warm scent. I wish to cease making up stories, because no fanciful tale can compare to the bliss of being in your embrace.”
“A circumstance that can definitely be arranged,” he said quickly. “We can take it day by day, if you like. Night by night.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want a day or a night. I want all the days and all the nights. I would never have met you if I hadn’t taken a risk—and the reins. I’m ready to embark on an even bigger adventure with you.”
His eyes were riveted on hers. “Does that mean…”
“It doesn’t mean what you think it means,” she said firmly. “I’m afraid my response to your not-proposal is to politely decline.”
“Oh.” He swallowed. “I see.”
“Instead, I must make you an immediate and heartfelt counter-offer,” she continued.
His gray eyes widened. “A counter-offer?”
“I love you, you rascally solicitor-chef-pirate. Solitude brings no pleasure if it means losing you. You showed me that I am enough, exactly as I am, and turned my world inside out. I am so, so sorry if my blather about Captain L’Amour and my insistence on spinsterhood made you feel like you weren’t enough.”