What if Mr. Northam had sent those things as a joke?
Was I that much of a fool? “What if I never marry, Daniel?”
He hesitated. “You are still young. I would hardly suggest putting yourself on the shelf yet.”
“Twice engaged and never married.”
“You will always have a home with Louisa and me.”
I faced him. “A place as the unwanted burden, you mean. An expense you will never be rid of, who will never bring in income, who will only be a drain on you and your family. That is what you mean, for that is what I will become. Though I would make a good governess to your children.”
Daniel suddenly straightened, his brow furrowing. “I doubt you will have to stoop so low. Know that I wish for you to be as happy as I am.” He reached forward and awkwardly patted my arm, then turned and strode across the terrace to the party.
I frowned, astonished at his abrupt departure. Had my summation of what he stood to lose just become real to him? Had he only now realized the burden I would be? He had not even asked me to return inside with him. Perhaps this was his way of uninviting me to the ball.
The clearing of a throat behind me chased all thoughts of Daniel from my head. I spun, afraid of being cornered on the balcony at night.
Even in the poor light I recognized my companion instantly. Gregory.
He’d come! He stood only a few paces from me, his dark coat blending in with the night. I wanted to leap into his arms, be held against him, tell him how much I’d missed him.
No. I would keep control of myself. Everything I said and did would be polite. Formal. Proper.
I opened my mouth to bid him a good evening, but instead asked, “What are you doing here?” My question was no more than a strangled whisper, so faint I wondered if I had actually spoken.
He took a hesitant step toward me. “I received an invitation. Well, two, actually.”
“You received two invitations?”
“Yes. One from your father and one from your brother.”
My father and my brother? Daniel’s actions just now—he had seen Gregory behind me. My father’s words earlier—had he known Gregory would come?
“And, I believe you dropped this.” Gregory held out his hand, the blue ribbon Alice had given me resting comfortably in it.
I glanced down at my dress. How had I not realized it had fallen? How embarrassing. “Thank you.”
Reaching for it, I indulged myself by brushing my fingers against his hand, the thinness of my glove allowing me to feel the lines in his palm. My whole body seemed attuned to his nearness, to his chest rising and falling with each breath—did his breath hitch when I touched his hand?—to the muscles of his shoulder keeping his palm stretched before me—was it offered a fraction longer than necessary?—to the way it would take only a step to put him close enough to kiss me—did he want to kiss me? My stomach clenched while my lips tingled.
He was here. And I was still in love with him.
I placed a hand on the banister for balance. “I didn’t think you would come.”
“I wasn’t sure how I’d be received.”
“I had hoped—” I stopped.
He shifted closer. “You had hoped . . . ?”
I nodded. I had hoped. Foolish eternal hope.
Except he was here. “There were the flowers. And the book. Those were from you, were they not?”
He placed his hand on the banister next to mine. “Is there someone else they could be from?”
“We thought at first the flowers were for Alice. And my father ordered the same book. But the notes . . . Only, your cousin—it could be a mean joke. But then the donkey came. How would he know of the donkey?”
Gregory nodded. “His name is Oscar.”
I shook my head. “Gregory.”
“Yes?” He sounded confused.
I bit back a smile. “The donkey’s name is Gregory.”
Gregory stilled. “You didn’t. You wouldn’t.”
“I did. Your mother would approve.” I lifted my gaze. His hair, though styled, still curled above the ear. And his face—how had I ever thought him less than the most handsome man I had ever beheld? And his eyes—
His eyes met mine, and I never wanted to move again. I wanted to stay forever with him looking at me just like that, hunger and hope and slight exasperation openly displayed in his eyes.
How I’d missed him.
“I believe my mother would approve of a great number of things that ought not be approved of, Miss Brinton. What happened to poor Oscar?”
“Gregory is quite content in a stall. Well, I believe he is content. I probably should have removed his hat.”
“You left the poor animal with that hat on?”
“I didn’t want to be late for the ball. In case. . . .” I slid my hand closer to his.
His fingers touched mine. “In case what?”
I brushed my fingers against his. “In case there was someone here I was supposed to meet.”
His hand crept over mine. “Was there?”
The tips of our thumbs touched and I grazed mine against his in a playful motion. “My mother did instruct me to pay special attention to James Johnson.”
Gregory tensed. “Did she?”
“Yes. She said she wanted to see me as happily settled as Daniel and Louisa.”
“And she believes Mr. Johnson would make you happy?”
“He has a strong constitution to withstand my opinions,” I said, recounting Gregory’s counsel to me from when we’d discussed ending the engagement. “And I believe he has enough sense to support me comfortably.”
“But will he give you flowers?”
My body tingled. “Probably.”
“And gifts?”
My heart began to pound. “Oh, yes. I believe Mr. Johnson would give very good gifts.”
Gregory shifted nearer. I probably moved toward him as well. It didn’t matter who had moved anymore. I adjusted my weight forward, awaiting his next question. Kisses.
“And . . . donkeys?”
I paused, letting the disappointment soak in before settling back down onto my heels. “Oh. Probably not. Which is a shame. I guess he wouldn’t suit after all.”
His hand clasped mine. “Perhaps there is someone else out there for you.”
“Hope’s eternal flame,” I murmured.
“Your hand is cold.”
“Is it?”
His thumb ran over the back of my hand in a gentle caress. “As a gentleman, I should insist you return inside.”
“Are you not a gentleman, then?” I would never tire of looking at him, of searching his face for his thoughts, of waiting for his teasing replies.
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I believe arrogant aristocrat describes me better.”
“In which case, even if you insisted, I would probably refuse to give heed.”
“I suppose it then becomes my duty to warm this poor hand, does it not?” He lifted my hand to his lips. The kiss was as soft as a dream and turned my heart to liquid.
“You cannot believe,” he said quietly, “that my intentions toward you were ever solely based on winning a wager.”
He clasped my other hand and raised it to his lips. “From the moment Mrs. Hickmore introduced us, I was drawn to you.”