Page 93 of Four Promises to Love

“It is ordinary water from a nearby lake.” Owen’s smile was rueful. “Which Sir Joseph is charging double for.”

She grinned. “A fool and his money are soon parted. I wonder who Sangerton is trying to impress with such exclusive water?”

“He still hasn’t revealed the name of his influential guest.” Owen gave her a dry look. “Given his obsession with the quality of the water, do you suppose his guest might walk upon it?”

She burst out laughing.

“I do not know how you deal with bluebloods,” she said, her lips twitching. “Oops, I forgot. You are one.”

“My family may be aristocratic, but we aren’t snobs.”

Hearing the slight edge in his voice, she knitted her brows. “I was jesting.”

“Were you?”

They’d arrived at the church, and he steered her through the gate. The memory of their first meeting here flitted through her head. So much had changed since then—she had changed. In ways she wasn’t ready to examine. In silence, they walked amongst the mossy stones and sat on the bench beneath the yew. The last time, the dark had obscured the hilltop vista, but now she admired the sunset in its last throes, fearlessly splashing the sky with its vibrant hues.

Seeing Owen’s taciturn profile, she sighed.

“You cannot deny that you and I are from different worlds,” she said.

“Why does that matter when we have formed a connection?”

Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes were stormy.

“I am in love with you, Finn. With you—the clever, fierce, and loyal woman I know you to be. I do not give a farthing about who your family was.”

“That’s just as well. Since I could not tell you.”

“Must you make light of everything?”

Seeing his frustration, she released a breath.

“I am sorry. You deserve better⁠—”

“Here we go again,” he muttered.

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Every time I bring up our relationship, you tell me I deserve better. I am tired of it. There is no one better—not for me. I want you and only you.”

To her horror, a tear escaped. For once, Owen didn’t offer her his handkerchief or wipe it away. Instead, he stared at her stonily.

“What do you want from me?” she said quietly.

“The truth. As I’ve said, I am willing to wait for you to be certain of your feelings. But if you do not care for me, then you must tell me now. I would rather know how you feel than hear excuses about why a future between us is impossible.”

Finn was at a fork in the road. She should take the right path: tell him that she had no feelings for him and put an end to what could never be. In other words, she should lie, a skill she was more than proficient in. But she…couldn’t.

Swallowing, she said, “It is not an excuse⁠—”

“It is. My family holds you in high regard, and I think you reciprocate those feelings. If you are worried about my parents, I can assure you that nothing would make them happier than knowing that I intend to follow the family tradition and marry for love.”

“Marry?” she whispered.

Another tear leaked, which she could no more control than the joyful leap in her chest.

“Where did you think this was headed?” He looked exasperated. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know that you are not ready for a proposal, but I hope that someday soon you will be. When that time comes, I intend to make you an offer—one you cannot refuse.”