Page 171 of The Earl She Once Saved

By the afternoon, nearly half the household had given notice. Roland would still have the house, and people would still be needed to keep it running. Rafe watched Verity write references for the servants who wished to go. She gave each person time to say what they meant to do next. When Tunstall thanked her, she thanked him in return for staying through the previous evening.

Aunt Cordelia came to the steward’s table after the servants had gone. She stood where Win had stood, looking at the lease books and the ink on Verity’s fingers.

“I went to Mrs. Fenwick yesterday to learn what was being said of you,” she told her niece. “Today she sent to ask if you would receive her.”

“I do not know yet.”

“You need not decide for her sake.” Aunt Cordelia touched the back of Verity’s chair. “I heard how you answered Roland last night. I wish I had believed sooner that you could judge what was best for yourself.”

Verity put down her pen. Aunt Cordelia’s gaze moved to Rafe, and she drew a careful breath.

“If you make a life together,” she smiled, “you have my blessing. Both of you.”

Rafe stood. Aunt Cordelia had once hoped a title would give Verity safety and later feared what his closeness might cost her. He knew her blessing could not mend the years behind them. He saw what it meant to Verity that she had come to offer it.

“Thank you,” he said.

Aunt Cordelia nodded. Then she asked Harris whether she might help sort the duplicates and stayed to work beside him until the light grew poor.

***

That evening, Rafe found Verity in the garden. The wind had dropped. Sergeant lay beneath the elm, too tired to fetch the stick that rested against his paw. Verity stood beyond him, looking toward the fields. Rafe came to her side. For a while, they watched a tenant’s cart make its way along the far lane.

“I shall miss knowing every turn of that road,” she sighed.

“I know.”

“I may come back to see them.”

“You may. They would want you to.”

She turned toward him. The last of the sunlight caught the loose hair at her temple. He remembered watching her in this same garden when he believed she belonged to his brother. He tried to make duty answer for everything he felt and found no way to keep from loving her.

“Henshaw will finish confirming what the marriage line proves,” he replied. “I know there are matters you must settle, and that you should have time to decide what you want next.”

“I do know what I want.”

Rafe took her hand. He rehearsed an offer while walking out to find her, then lost its careful order when she looked at him.

“When you are free of every dispute Roland may raise,” he asked, “will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “I had not finished.”

She smiled. “I heard the question.”

“I meant to tell you that you need not follow me anywhere you do not wish to go. We can make a home together where you choose, and you need never doubt that—”

“Rafe,” she interrupted him, still smiling.

“Yes?”

“I will marry you.”

He drew her close and kissed her. Sergeant opened one eye, decided they required nothing of him and went back to sleep.

Rafe smiled against Verity’s mouth. The house behind them still bore Roland’s name, and the fields she loved would remain his. They had work ahead before they could leave it. Here in the garden, with her hand holding his, Rafe could ask her to stay with him and hear her answer freely.