She smiled at him. “I’d … I’d like that proposal now, sir,” she smiled. “Officially, I’m not certain we’re even betrothed.”
“We’ll remedy that.” He dropped to one knee in the fragrant red clover and clasped his hands together dramatically. “Mrs. Irons, ma’am,” he said. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”
“I’m not going to live in Philadelphia.”
“Your honor, the witness is avoiding the question,” he teased.
“If I say yes, we have to live here, on Rachel’s Choice, at least most of the time,” she bargained. “And I’d like to be married by Preacher George. That might not be legal, because he’s just a lay minister, but we could be married by Reverend Allen and renew our vows in front of Cora’s congregation.”
“Attempted bribery, your honor.”
“You don’t want Preacher George to—”
“A priest first, and then your choice. Rabbi, mullah, or judge, it makes no difference to me. It was the clause about where we live that—”
“You want me to leave Rachel’s Choice?”
“I want you in my bed, woman. I can put the furniture anywhere. Unless you want to live in Richmond.”
Tears of joy clouded her vision. “Overruled.”
“Delaware. We’ll live in Delaware, and I’ll build you the biggest damned house this county has ever seen. Now, will you, or will you not, accept my proposal of matrimony?”
A dimple showed on his left cheek when he smiled, and she wondered if their child would have the same dimple. She hoped so.
“Yes, your honor,” she replied softly.
Chance’s eyes shone. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I’ll be your wife.”
“I’m glad, otherwise I spent a lot of money on this for nothing,” he said as he slid a large emerald ring on her finger. “I hope you like it, Rachel. This was my grandmother’s. But if you’d rather choose another, then—”
“Hush,” she said, putting her fingertips over his lips. “The trouble with Southern lawyers is that they never know when to stop talking.”
Laughing, he stood and swept her off her feet, swinging both her and Davy around until she cried out for mercy. Then he lowered her to the grass and pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Rachel,” he murmured. “Love you, love you, love you.”
“Forever and ever?” she asked him.
“Forever and ever.”
“Case closed,” she murmured just before he kissed her. And her heart whispered that this was one sweet-talking lawyer that she could trust to keep his word.
Epilogue
Rachel’s Choice
May 1890
Rachel stood at the open window and looked down on the bustling activity below. The expanse of green lawn that ran down to Indian Creek was scattered with umbrella-covered tables, covered pavilions, and elegantly clad men and women. Balloons and bright-colored streamers fluttered gaily in the warm breeze, and the sounds of shouts and children’s laughter drifted over the gathering of relatives and friends.
To the west, Rachel could see an endless line of horse-drawn carriages coming up the circular drive, and from the river on the northeast, she heard the wail of a steamer about to dock at their landing. Still more guests, she thought.
“You’d think you were the only baby ever christened in this county,” she murmured lovingly to the red-haired infant girl in her arms. “I hope Cook has enough food for all these people.”
“Mother Chancellor, have you got Victoria?” Mary called from the hall.
“I do,” Rachel answered. “If you can find her in all these ruffles.”
“And her bonnet? Do you have her bonnet?”
Rachel chuckled. “On the bed, but she doesn’t like it. Do you, darlin’?” she whispered to the baby. “The lace scratches, doesn’t it?” Rachel glanced at her daughter-in-law. “As warm as it is today, she’d be more comfortable in a cotton sacque and diaper.”
“On her christening day?” Mary scooped the baby out of Rachel’s arms. “Oh, you’re teasing me, aren’t you, Mother Chancellor.”
Victoria waved her arms and hiccuped.
“She probably needs burping,” Rachel advised. She gave the sweet-smelling little girl one more kiss on the forehead before her mother whisked her away to show her off to the guests.
Travis Bowman’s daughter was a good match for Davy, or rather J.D. as she reminded herself he preferred to be called nowadays. But Rachel thought that Mary was a tad too fussy with Victoria. “Wait until she has two more,” she murmured to no one in particular.
“Is it safe to come out?”
Rachel smiled at the sound of Chance’s voice. “I wondered where you were hiding.”
Grinning, finger on his lips, he strolled out of the small dressing room that adjoined their bedchamber. “You were the prettiest woman in Saint Anne’s this morning,” he whispered.
“Go on with you, Chance Chancellor. None of your soft-talking lawyer tricks with me.”
“Wouldn’t think of it.”
A flood of happiness washed over Rachel as she studied her husband. Few people would guess his age; he looked more like a bridegroom than a grandfather, as slim and handsome as ever. And the fancy attire Chance had worn to church was perfect on him.
The silver streaks in his hair made him even more distinguished-looking, she decided, although with typical male vanity, he insisted they were from the sun. But best of all she loved his blue eyes, still as vivid as the day she’d found him. Chance’s eyes could darken to steel when his temper was up, but just now they danced with mischief.
“What are you up to?” she demanded. “You look altogether too pleased with yourself, sir. Has Davy—”
“J.D.,” he corrected her impishly. “Our eldest is too successful a counselor to be known as Davy to his associates.” Chance slipped the lock on the bedroom door.
Pretending not to notice, Rachel glanced out the window again. “You should be downstairs,” she said. “That looks like the governor’s team of Cleveland bays pulling that vis-à-vis. He’d expect you to welcome him.”
Chance came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “J.D. can take care of him,” he murmured as he kissed the nape of her neck. “Personally, I’m glad to have this time alone with my wife.”
She sighed with contentment, wondering how many women who’d celebrated twenty-five years of marriage still thrilled to their husband’s touch as she did. Her marriage to Chance had been truly blessed, and a day like this one brought enough joy to last two lifetimes.
They had bright, loving children, all beautiful and clever. Chance always claimed that it was the Lord’s special gift that no parent ever knew when they had homely or dull offspring. But she didn’t let his teasing get to her; she had the sense to know her four were special.
Davy had followed the law; he was a senior partner in Chance’s firm and would become the head man when Chance retired. Virginia, born only a few months after she and Chance were married, had studied at a fine college in Dublin and was now an educator, overseeing black schools in New Castle County. She’d become engaged at Christmas to a neighbor’s son and would return home to be married in the fall.
Gavin, at fifteen, talked of nothing but attending the Naval Academy, but his sister Cora Jean, two years younger, was a farmer born and bred. It was Cora Jean who’d suggested they plant apples when the whole state was crazy for peach orchards, and Cora Jean who filled Rachel’s Choice with other people’s stray dogs and aging ponies.
Chance kissed Rachel’s neck again, sending sweet sensations through her. When he nibbled on her left ear, familiar stirrings made Rachel squirm. “I should be down there with our children and grandchild,” she said, “not upstairs playing hanky-panky with a grandfather.”
It pleased her immensely that she still fit perfectly in his arms when she turned to snuggle against him. “I love you,” she whispered. “You’ve given me a fairy-tale life.”
She moiste
ned her lips, and he kissed them tenderly.
“Why shouldn’t I? It was you who taught me what real happiness was. Giving you the biggest mansion house in the state seems little enough to do for you.”
Rachel chuckled softly. “Not exactly the largest in Delaware,” she corrected him. “Maybe in Kent County.”
“Shall we put an addition on the south wing?”
“No, thank you, sir. This house is quite adequate. Any larger, and it would be taking up valuable farmland.”
“As long as you’re satisfied.”
She pulled back a little and regarded him with suspicion. “What are you up to, husband? You’re not running for Congress again, are you? You promised that one term would be all—”
He smiled at her. “I am not running for senator. I leave that to younger and more desperate men.”
“Governor? They’ve convinced you to—”
“Not state office either. I’ve decided to open a branch office in Dover and leave Philadelphia to J.D. and Solomon.”
“Solomon? Pharaoh and Emma’s Solomon? He’s coming to work at the firm?”
He nodded. “Graduated with honors. He’ll be an asset to the company. I think he’s going to make a brilliant lawyer, maybe even keep J.D. from getting too sure of himself. As for me, I think it would be nice to come home to my own front porch every night, drink iced tea, and watch the lightning bugs blink on and off.”
“Oh, Chance!” She gave a little squeal and hugged him. “For real? I won’t have to spend four months a year in Philadelphia anymore? We can live on the farm all the time?”
He plucked a hairpin from her elaborately coiled chignon. She sighed and traced his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue.
“You’ve followed me to Washington and back,” he whispered. “And you’ve put up with spending weeks in that town house in the city. The least I can do for you is to find a courtroom closer to home. The governor has hinted that he needs honest judges. What would you think of that?”
She threaded her fingers through his hair. “If you’ll be in my bed on Rachel’s Choice every night, you can go back to milking cows for all I care.”
He broke from their embrace long enough to shed his coat and loosen his collar. “This is where you’re supposed to complain that I’m mussing your hairdo,” he said.
She laughed and began to undo the pearl buttons on the bodice of her silk polonaise gown. “I warned you when you married me that you weren’t getting a lady.”
“Oh, but I did,” he replied. “The finest lady of all.” He caught her around the waist and pulled her toward the bed. “Race you,” he dared. “First one naked gets to be on top.”
“Objection,” she whispered. “Unfair. I’ve got more clothes than you, and you know I can’t get out of this damned corset without—”
“Overruled.”
She tugged at the buttons on her high black leather shoes, and one button flew off and shot across the room. “Now you’ve done it!” she cried.
“Me? What did I do?”
Giggling, they shed their clothing and dived into the high feather bed that would have dwarfed Rachel’s bedroom in the old farmhouse.
Chance pulled another three pins from her hair, and the heavy braid fell forward over her shoulder. “I like it loose,” he said as he began to undo it.
Someone rapped loudly on the door, and Rachel yanked the sheets over her bare breasts and giggled.
“Mother! Mother, are you in there?” Cora Jean called. “Gavin says my dogs have to be locked up. They don’t have to, do they?” The doorknob rattled. “Mother? The door’s locked!”
Another youthful feminine voice, one that Rachel recognized as belonging to a friend of her daughter’s, echoed from the stair landing. “Cora Jean! Come on! Randy’s here, and he’s riding the most beautiful blood bay!”
Rachel buried her head under a pillow.
“This is a dereliction of duty on your part, madam,” Chance teased as he ran appraising fingers over her bare bottom. “You are frolicking with a gentleman instead of entertaining the governor. Surely, a capital offense.”
“Guilty, your honor,” she whispered. “You matter more to me than all the governors in the country.”
“What about all the crops?” he countered. “Do I matter more than your damned apples?”
“Hard choice.” She gently massaged the old scar on his shoulder. “But …” She sighed. “If I had to choose, it would be you.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He kissed her so soundly that she flushed to the tips of her toes.
“Mother! Are you in there?” That was Gavin, his voice cracking slightly. “People are asking for you. Have you seen Papa?”
She tried to answer, but Chance clamped a hand over her mouth. She squirmed and tried to get away, but he yanked the covers over their heads.
“Have you looked for your mother by the creek landing?” Chance asked. “Tell your brother that I’m in an important conference. I shouldn’t be long.”
“Yes, sir.”
Gavin’s footsteps faded as he hurried down the hall.
“Liar,” she accused.
“Did I say you were there?”
“You led our son to believe that I was at the landing.”
“I told the truth,” Chance replied between kisses. “I … am … in … an … important conference.” He cupped her breast. “They can wait,” he murmured huskily. “They can all wait.”
And then she kissed him, and for a precious hour they shut out children, friends, and responsibilities to renew a love affair that she knew with all her heart and soul would never, never end.
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For Candace McCarthy, a dear friend and wonderful writer. Thank you for always being there for me when I needed you.
By Judith E. French:
FORTUNE’S BRIDE
FORTUNE’S FLAME
FORTUNE’S MISTRESS
SHAWNEE MOON
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