Hands caught her upper arms before she could fall very far, and she stared into the warm brown eyes of Nicholas Langdon.
“As I told you before,” he said, his chest rising and falling, “I must speak with you.” His jaw and chin were shaded by a day’s growth of beard, which, if possible, made him even more handsome.
The look on his face was so serious, she was suddenly terrified he was about to tell her he was marrying Mrs. Tromburg. He still held her arms so that they stood facing each other in the middle of the dusty road, closer than propriety allowed. Her heart seemed to stick in her throat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the carriage driver staring down at them from his seat.
“When you told me you were going to become a governess,” Mr. Langdon said, his eyes intently focused on her, “I planned to come and find you just as soon as the War Office released me. I knew they would want me to report everything that had happened, and after I was able to help them apprehend your uncle, Edgerton, and the men they were sending to kill General Wellington, I would be free to come to you. But testifying took longer than I thought, your uncle fled the country, and they wanted to give me a promotion. There were endless meetings and talk of giving me a position at the War Office. Finally, the Prince Regent asked to meet with me.”
“He did?”
“He did. And he wants to meet with you too, Julia.”
“With me? Why?”
“I believe he wants to commend you for your work in thwarting the plan to kill General Wellington. But that is not why I came to Donnerly Hall. I have something else to talk to you about.”
“Oh.” They both leaned forward until their foreheads were almost touching.
“Thank you for your letter, Julia. You cannot know how happy it made me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead and then drew back slightly to look into her eyes again. “I love you, Julia Grey. You have no equal in character, grace, and beauty, and I am asking you to marry me. And if you will accept my proposal of marriage, I promise to do my utmost to make you happy.”
Her whole world was in the depths of his eyes. Was she dreaming? She could feel his hands holding her, see his thick black lashes and eyebrows and the black stubble on his chin and jawline, even the golden undertones in his brown eyes.
“Are you sure you want to marry a governess?”
“You will not be a governess anymore.” He leaned down, so close it was surely very improper, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Then he closed his eyes and touched his lips to hers.
Julia caught her breath at his boldness and at the brief but heart-pounding kiss.
She whispered, “The coachman is watching us.”
He did not pull away. His lips were still achingly close as he said, “You did not answer. Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
His eyes focused on her lips, and he sighed. Taking her hand in his, he turned to the driver. “Pray, be so good as to drive us back to Donnerly Hall.”
He handed Julia in while he went to tie his horse to the back of the carriage.
The Bible she had just been reading lay on the seat next to her. “Thank you, God. He loves me,” she whispered. She clasped her hands to her chest and tried to say a more coherent prayer, but it was impossible.
He suddenly opened the door and sprang into the carriage beside her. He picked up her hand and squeezed it, turning his body on the narrow seat to face her.
“Is it improper for me to kiss you here in the carriage,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes, “where the coachman cannot see us?”
Of course it was improper. But she wanted more than anything for him to kiss her again.
“I suppose,” she said, her heart fluttering, unable to stop herself from staring at his lips, “it is not so improper, since we are engaged to be married.”
He gathered her in his arms. Gazing deeply into her eyes, he caressed her cheek with his thumb, sending tingling sensations all the way into her fingertips. Then he tilted her head back and kissed her lips.
The kiss was so wonderful, she was afraid it would suddenly end, that she would wake up and he would disappear, just a dream or a figment of her imagination. A few minutes ago, she was an unloved, orphaned governess who was on her way to become a teacher at a girls’ school. Now she was kissing Nicholas Langdon, the most wonderful man in the world.
He pulled away and her heart lurched. He smiled, a kind of sleepy look on his face.
“Thank you for your letter.” He drew a circle on her cheek with his thumb and then traced her eyebrow, kissing her temple. “I knew I wanted to marry you for weeks, but that letter . . . I did not see it until this morning when Smith woke me and showed it to me. When did you leave it?”
She wasn’t sure she could speak, with the way his thumb and finger kept caressing her cheek and jawline and chin, stealing her breath. She swallowed and said, “Last night.”
“It was so late and so dark when I got back to my room, Smith and I somehow missed seeing it.” He kissed her again. “I’m sorry I was not there at dawn when you left. You must have thought I didn’t care.”