He shook his head. He put a hand to the wall for support, and his breathing slowed a bit.
“Ran,” he said. “Ran all the way from your house in Grosvenor Square.” He finally managed to stand tall. His gaze swept over her hair and gown. “What the devil are you doing?”
Eliza shrugged and lifted the bouquet in her hands. “I’m—”
He plucked the flowers from her grasp and heaved them against the wall. Petals exploded in silent bursts, like muted, fragrant fireworks.
“That was unnecessary,” she said.
“I disagree. I think it was imperative.” His eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “This is a wedding. What happened to, ‘I’ll wait for you, Harry’?”
“What happened to, ‘Don’t wait for me, Eliza’?” She stared at him, wide-eyed with amazement. “You told me you’d never marry me. You said we had no future.”
“Yes, but you weren’t supposed to believe me. In all the years of our acquaintance, when have I ever given you cause to believe a word I say?”
Eliza raised a hand to her mouth and quietly laughed behind it. She couldn’t help it. He was so adorably confounded, with his jaw defiantly set and his brow scrunched up in anger.
And he was here—alive and whole, if a little leaner. The red uniform wore so well on him, delineating his strong shoulders and setting off his brilliant green eyes. His roguishly handsome face was brown from the sun, and a few new wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t shaved.
Darling man. How I’ve missed you.
“Harry, please. Let me explain.”
“I’m a fool. That’s all the explanation I need.” He paced away, pushing a hand through his chronically disheveled hair. “I should have asked for your hand before I left. But I stupidly wanted you to enjoy yourself while I was away. To live life, as much as your circumstances allowed it. To go dancing and driving and be courted by a score of listless gentlemen, none of whom could compare to me. You were supposed to have your fun flirting and grow bored of it.”
“I did grow bored of it. Almost as soon as it began.”
“I suppose that’s why you’re here, then.” He stopped next to the sanctuary entrance. “Who is he, anyway?” With exaggerated caution, he turned his neck and peered around the doorjamb. “Oh, no. Not Merrivale. The man’s decrepit. Forty, if he’s a day. You thought me too old.”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps I’ve grown to appreciate maturity in a gentleman.”
“I hope you don’t want children, because I’ve heard the man’s equipment is—”
She shook her head. “You can’t play that trick on me twice. After Peter Everhart, I’m wise to your games.”
He glared down the aisle again. “He can’t possibly be the husband you deserve.”
“Colonel Merrivale is a good man.”
“Yes, that’s just it. You’re as vivacious and sparkling and intoxicating as champagne, and he’s…he’s barley water. He’s boring.”
“I wish you’d stop speaking ill of him.”
His green eyes met hers, direct and open. “Do you love him?”
“No,” she answered honestly. “No, Harry. I don’t. I could never love any man but you.”
He approached and placed his hands on her shoulders. As he caressed her bare skin, his thumb trembled.
That same tremor affected his husky voice. “Eliza.”
“I love you, Harry.” Her heart shivered with joy. It felt so good to say aloud. “I’ve loved you for the longest time.”
His hands slid to her face. “I loved you first.”
“You did not.”
“I did. I adored you that very first night in the morning room.”
A broad smile stretched her cheeks, and his thumbs found her dimples. “Oh, really. Was it my tigress growl or my late-blooming bosoms?”
“It was the snails.”
“The snails?”
“You said something about Sir Roland mating slower than a snail. And that you’d watched. I thought to myself, any girl who makes the effort to observe snails mating is a girl I want to know.” He seized her hand. “You know why I couldn’t allow Brentley to marry Philippa. But do you never wonder why I encouraged Everhart to pursue her instead?”
She lifted her shoulders. “I assumed you did it simply to vex me.”
“Well, that was an ancillary benefit. I don’t deny it. But chiefly, I had other motives in mind.”
“What were they?”
“I wanted Philippa out of your way. And Peter Everhart out of mine. I didn’t expect you truly loved him, but I wasn’t taking any chances.” He winced a little. “Can you imagine, Eliza—I even scraped together what coin I had and made a pledge to the Ceylonese Mission Society. Just to ensure whey-faced Timothy didn’t return all tanned and brawny and ready to grope you properly.”