A Perfect Gentleman

by Barbara Metzger

  Ellianne looked at the door, praying the innkeeper took his time. “Just say it.”

  “Yes, well, I would have taken a page from Strickland’s book and taken you to see Wellstone Park, to prove I am a man of substance, too, but that might have frightened you away altogether.”

  “I am not easily frightened.”

  “No, I have learned that, haven’t I? I have also learned that we are not so far apart as we both thought. You have a fortune, but I have enough money to live on, without needing yours. You have a fine estate, but mine is larger, even if it is ramshackle right now, and has been in the family for centuries, not a few decades.”

  “You have a title,” she put in, still concerned over the discrepancy.

  “The title of heiress is not to be scorned. Or heroine.”

  “You have a higher social standing,” she persisted.

  “But you are on terms with the prince himself. We both have work. Your bank and my breeding farm.”

  “And charities. We both care about those less fortunate. But I have inconvenient and scandalous relatives.”

  “I have Gwen’s cousins. And Strickland, it would appear. We both like dogs,” he added, trying to recall all the points he had intended to make.

  “No, I don’t really like dogs,” Ellianne admitted.

  “Good, neither do I, not in the house, anyway.”

  “What about children?” she wanted to know.

  “Oh, they definitely belong in the house. My house. Our house. Lots of them, all with red hair.”

  “Truly, Stony? Not just because I am hopelessly compromised, or you feel responsible for me? Or…or because you are physically attracted to me?”

  “Truly, my sweet, because I am hopelessly in love with you.” He reached for her hand, then sank to his knees beside her chair. “All of that. I want you, and I want to take care of you, yes, but I want you next to me forever, although if I do not have you in my arms soon, I might expire. I thought I could take any acceptable female to wife, eventually. How wrong I was. I doubt I could take another woman to a dance, much less to my bed. You are the only one I see when I enter a room, the only one I want to talk to, be with, make love with. When I almost lost you—gads, was it just a few days ago? It seems like ages—I realized that I would not be losing a woman or a friend. I would be losing a part of myself, Ellianne, the best part.”

  “And you will not mind being faithful to one woman? For I could not bear it if you missed your bachelor life.”

  “The only woman I will ever want to escort again is you, down the aisle. Will you marry me, Miss Ellianne Kane, and make me a whole man? The happiest man in all of England?”

  “Ah, my love, I thought you would never ask, and I would have to do it.” She dabbed tears of joy from her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “Of course I will marry you, for I cannot imagine surviving a day without you in it.”

  “Truly?” he asked, his own eyes suspiciously damp. Ellianne handed him her handkerchief, and he kissed her hand. “No one has ever offered me a handkerchief before, you know.”

  “No one has ever loved you this much before. I have adored you forever, my dearest, and the differences between us are as nothing now, except that I am a woman and you are a man.”

  “That’s the finest difference. Come, let me show you.”

  Soon they were on the sofa, lost in each other’s arms, when the innkeeper came in with the tray.

  They never heard him. “Redheads,” he muttered, shaking his head on the way out. “Trouble every time.”