“Go on,” she said, suddenly apprehensive.
“I made my parents a promise when I left, just as you had done with your family. I promised that I would return in five years. In fact, I all but swore an oath on the family Bible. Father wanted to retire long ago, but he gave me those years, and I didn’t feel I could refuse him. There was no one else, after all.”
He began to pace back and forth, fretful as a zoo-bound tiger, pausing only to loosen his tie and unbutton his high, starched collar. “I knew the day was coming. I only had six months left. And then I had a letter from Mother. She said Father’s health was failing. That he needed to retire for the sake of his health. When I came to your aunt’s the morning after your vernissage it was to tell you everything. I was going to explain why I had to return home. But then we quarreled, and I was so angry I more or less packed my bags and left.”
“You were that upset with me?”
“Only at first. I was about halfway across the Atlantic when I came to my senses. I actually sent you a cable from the ship, but you must have left Paris by then.”
“I thought you had left without saying good-bye,” she said, her throat clogging with sudden tears.
“The thing is, Ellie, you were right about everything. I had been living in fear, and it was time I faced up to it. I had no right to criticize you, none at all, because you are the most courageous person I know.”
“So you’ve come back to take over Howard Steel?”
“No,” he said flatly.
She went to the sofa and sat down. It was that or crumple slowly to the floor. “I don’t understand. I thought you came home to take over from your father.”
“When I left Paris, that’s what I planned to do. But that lasted for less than a week. By the time I arrived, I knew I couldn’t do it. Not even for my parents could I do it. That’s the first thing I told them.”
“How did they react?”
“They were disappointed, of course, but then I explained everything. I think they understand now.”
The effort to make sense of Sam’s revelations was very nearly making her dizzy. “If you aren’t taking over, who is?”
“No one. A buyer approached my father a while back, and we’ve agreed to sell the company to him. Nearly all the proceeds will go to a charitable trust that my parents will manage. Eventually I’ll take over, but only to disburse the funds to charity.
“You need to know that I’m walking away from the money. There will be some set aside for my children, but nothing like my father’s millions. That’s one of the things I’ve been struggling with all this time. What to do about all that money.”
“It must be a relief,” she said. “If only because rich men rarely make great writers. Or great artists, for that matter.”
He swayed on his feet, and only then did she see how pale he was, and how dark the shadows were under his eyes. “I haven’t been sleeping all that well,” he admitted. “Perhaps I should—”
She reached out and grasped his hand, and then she pulled him closer until he was seated next to her on the sofa.
“Now it’s my turn,” she began, her heart so full she could scarcely speak. “I came to America to tell you that I was wrong. You are brave and I am proud of you. And you need to know that I love you. I lied to you in January, when I said I was content with being your friend. I want that, yes, but I want more, too.”
“Thank God for that. Because I love you, too, and I do want more from you. I’m not prepared to settle for less. Not anymore.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch infinitely gentle and reassuring. “I’ve a very important question to ask you now. What’s your middle name?”
“I’ve several,” she said, a little puzzled by his request. “I’m Helena Mary Angela et cetera et cetera.”
“Right, then.” He pulled a small, square box from his coat pocket, and, dropping to his knees before her, opened the lid and held it out. Inside was an old-fashioned diamond ring, the oval central stone surrounded by sapphire petals set in gold.
“Helena Mary Angela et cetera et cetera, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
“I will,” she said, her heart suddenly so full that it hurt to breathe.
She held out her left hand, so he might fit the ring on her finger, and with her right hand she pinched her leg, hard, just to make sure her imagination wasn’t playing tricks on her.
“It’s my grandmother’s ring. I confessed everything to my parents at dinner yesterday. This morning, Mother came to see me at work. She said she couldn’t stand to see me so unhappy, and she all but ordered me to return to Paris and sort things out with you. And she gave me the ring.”
“It’s lovely.”
“Do you want to have the wedding back in England with your family?”