Kinkaid bowed. “Of course. They shall be returned by the end of the day.”
Ariel turned to face him, Stanfield’s arm still around her waist. “If you will tell me how much my father owed you, I shall arrange for my father’s solicitor to return the funds at once.”
Kinkaid shook his head. “No. On the whole, I think I should prefer that you keep the money, Miss Hawthorne. Under the circumstances, I think I should rather not have it back. Rest assured I can well afford to refuse to accept it.”
“Never mind that,” Lady Merriweather said sharply. “What I want to know is what you mean to do, Miss Hawthorne? You are not, I trust, going to go into a decline? You’re not such a missish creature as that!”
Ariel drew a breath to answer, but Captain Stanfield forestalled her. “Miss Hawthorne and I need to talk before she can answer your question,” he said. “I presume I may use one of your other rooms to speak with her?” He did not wait for an answer, but took Ariel by the hand and pulled her out of the room before anyone could have time to object. Down the hall they went and into the room at the end, without the slightest hesitation. But once there, his manner became markedly diffident.
“Miss Hawthorne, I know that it is very soon after your father’s death. And perhaps you will think me impertinent anyway. But, Miss Hawthorne, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Ariel stared at him. “Truly? Even after what you have learned tonight about my father?”
“Even after tonight,” he agreed. Then, teasingly, he added, “I must marry you, you know. Think of my mother and sisters! They would never forgive me if I don’t!”
Ariel stiffened. She meant to draw away. Or at least remove her hand from his grasp. But he wouldn’t let her. Instead, before she could object to his teasing words, he kissed her on the forehead and said, “And I must marry you because in no other way will I find peace. In no other way will I find someone to make my life complete. I love you, Ariel.”
“And I love you . . . William.”
“So you will marry me?”
She started to say “yes,” but suddenly all the old fears and suspicions rushed back. Ariel pulled her hand free, and she stepped back several paces.
“I am not so sure,” she said. “What will you expect me to do?”
“Do?” Stanfield echoed, clearly taken aback.
“Yes. Do,” Ariel repeated, almost fiercely. “I am a scholar, not a ... a lady trained to pour tea and hold parties and . . . and such.”
He grinned. “I don’t want you to pour tea or hold parties and such,” he promptly said.
That only angered Ariel more. “You are roasting me, but this is not a jesting matter. I am not a lady, whatever my provenance might be! I am a scholar, and I must know whether you will respect that or not, before I can know whether it would be wise for me to marry you.”
“Wise?”
Stanfield quirked an eyebrow upward as he said the word, and the comers of his lips twitched as though he were trying not to smile. He moved toward Ariel, forcing her to back away, until she found herself pressed against the far wall.
“I don’t know if it would be wise,” William said amiably, “for you to marry me. Indeed, I think it probably would not be. But I hope it will be an adventure, for both of us.”
“Adventure?” It was Ariel’s turn to echo a word.
William nodded and moved even closer, so that he could put his hands on her shoulders. “I do not want a milk-and-water miss. I should be bored to tears by a lady who conceived her whole purpose to be as an ornament and to preside over parties and tea trays. I find that I want a wife with a mind to match my own. One with sufficient courage not to shirk from adventures, either.”
He paused and smiled that sweet smile that had tumbled Ariel’s heart about so many times already.
“Marry me,” he said, his voice soft and coaxing. “We shall travel—wherever you wish to go. You shall show me the places you have been and I shall take you to the places you’ve always wanted to go. I cannot swear that I shall make you happy, but I think I can promise you that we shall never be bored. Please, Ariel? Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “With all my heart, I will.”
Epilogue
Ariel glanced up at the man beside her. William stood tall, no cane or sling in sight. He had been a source of strength for her, since her father died. More than that, his voice, his touch, his very gaze upon her face stirred up feelings inside that she had never known before. And today they were to be married. Stanfield’s family had rallied around her. and their kindness, as well as that of Lady Merriweather, had done much to smooth her path among the ton.
Now they were saying their vows. Ariel was very much aware of the colonel and Mrs. Merriweather behind her. It was a source of amusement to everyone that the former governess was increasing. Lady Merriweather had even been heard to remark upon the possibility of twins. Children. Would she and William have children? Ariel wondered. Perhaps they would have a daughter as full of life and mischief as Mrs. Merriweather’s Elizabeth. Or a son, one who looked just like William. The thought made her smile.
But Ariel’s thoughts of the Merriweathers were also inextricably tied with thoughts of her father. How she wished he were here to see her today!
Some shadow of unhappiness must have crossed Ariel’s face, for William squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she smiled up at him. Here was her refuge, her shelter. How strange it felt to be taken care of by someone else! And yet, it was wonderful, as well.
Beside her, Stanfield smiled, too. He had not thought to find love or a desire to wed. For so long he had resisted the lures thrown out to him, and the efforts of his mother and sisters to matchmake. But then he had found Ariel and knew he wished to spend his life with her at his side. She had helped him to believe again in the goodness possible in this world, and to believe in himself. She had seen past his defenses, past his masquerade, and loved him anyway.
Now the last words were spoken, the ceremony was over, and friends and family surrounded them. Neither Ariel nor William could pretend to the cool aloofness so fashionable at weddings these days. No, they stayed side by side, hand in hand, as they hoped to do all their lives.
“How soon can we leave?” William whispered to his bride.
Ariel smiled up at him. “Impatient?” she asked.
Something flared in his eyes and found an answer in hers. “Very,” he said, his voice husky.
“We could tell them our ship sails soon and we must be aboard,” Ariel suggested, her own voice not entirely steady.
William grinned in reply. “So we could,” he agreed, “if they did not know it sails tomorrow.”
But there was no need for any such excuses. As Mrs. Merriweather said, quite firmly, a short time later, “You don’t need all of us crowding you about when the two of you wish to be alone. Off with you! Go to wherever you are to stay tonight and have a wonderful trip. I envy you!”
“Do you wish you were off on such a trip?” the colonel asked, coming to stand with his arm around Mrs. Merriweather’s waist.
She leaned against him. “Perhaps. Someday.”
“Then, someday we shall go,” Colonel Merriweather promised. “But now it is time to see these two young people off into their carriage.”
Once Ariel and Stanfield were gone, Mrs. Merriweather continued to lean against her husband. “Who would have guessed, Andrew,” she said, “that coming to London to sort out artifacts at the museum could possibly have such an outcome as this? What an adventure!”
But it was a mistake to remind the colonel. He immediately turned her to look at him. There was a frown on his face and a stern note to his voice as he said, “I do not like it, Marian! I do not like it at all, this penchant of yours for getting into difficult and dangerous situations. It has got to stop! Do you hear me? It has got to stop!”
Marian smiled, and in a soothing voice she said, “Yes, dear. Of course it does.”
He grum
bled, not entirely satisfied. “Never again, my dear! Is that quite clear?”
“Absolutely,” Marian replied.
And then, before Colonel Merriweather could say another word, she kissed him. Just as, in the carriage, not so very far away, William was kissing Ariel. And a very pleasant distraction it was, for all of them.
Authors’ Note
Mr. Hawthorne and Mr. Gilmer, indeed all the events in this story, are purely my imagination. So far as I know, no curator of the British Museum, or any person who worked there, has ever been involved in stealing and selling, or even “loaning” in this way, artifacts from the museum.
The British Museum was originally in Montagu House (sometimes spelled Montague House). There really were stuffed giraffes at the top of the main staircase. Until 1808, access to the museum was extremely limited, by ticket and only after one’s credentials had been approved. By 1823, it was evident that a larger space was needed and work began on the new buildings. In 1842 Montagu House was demolished. But I had a great deal of fun imagining how things might have been in the Regency period!
Look for news of upcoming books at my Web site: http://www.sff.net/people/april.kihlstrom
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I love to hear from readers. I can be reached by e-mail at [email protected]
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April Kihlstrom was born in Buffalo, New York, and graduated from Cornell University7 with an M.S. in Operations Research. She lives with her husband and their two children in New Jersey.
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