A knot rose in her throat. “Yes. We do.”
“I want to be with you, for the rest of our lives.”
“I want that, too.”
“Then here.” He released her hands. Catching his glove between his teeth, he tugged it loose and then discarded the thing entirely. His fingers went to the signet ring on his little finger, and he twisted it back and forth. And back and forth. He grimaced. “This may take a moment.”
“Colin, really. You don’t have to—”
“Almost have it,” he said through gritted teeth. His face was red and contorted with effort. “Wait . . . wait . . .”
He turned away and crouched, still tugging at the ring. Minerva began to grow worried for him.
“There.” Panting for breath and wearing an expression of triumph, he held up the ring for her inspection. “I haven’t removed this ring since I was a boy. It was my father’s of course, and it came to me after his death. It started out on my thumb, then made its way down every finger. It’s been on that last finger so long, it almost became a part of me. But now I want you to wear it.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“No, you must.” He turned her hand palm up and dropped the ring in it. “It’s my most cherished possession, Min. You must wear it. That way, I’ll always know the two things dearest to me are in the same place. It will be a true help. Most convenient.”
She stared at the ring. Then she stared at him, breathless with emotion.
“Didn’t—” He cleared his throat. “Didn’t you want to marry me?”
“Of course I do,” she hastened to assure him. “Of course I want to marry you. But I thought you wanted to wait, go slowly. Have a proper courtship. It seemed so important to you.”
“This”—he gestured at the door and the symposium going on within—”is important to you. Which means it’s everything to me.”
Stunned, she watched as he sank to one knee.
“I love you, Minerva. Stay with me forever. Let me cherish you always. Give me the lasting joy of calling you my own.” He slipped the signet ring on her gloved finger. “But marry me today. So I can share you with the world.”
She gazed down at him, her heart swollen with love—and her mind decided that the world would never see a better man.
With a few hasty vows uttered right here on these steps, he offered to make all her dreams come true. And she could make Colin all hers. Forever.
“Well, girl?” Behind them, Mr. Barrington thumped his board. “Do you mean to marry the fellow or not?”
Chapter Thirty-two
“Can I interest you in some lace today, Miss Taylor?” As Kate entered the All Things shop, Sally Bright straightened behind the counter. The fair-haired young woman laid aside the newspaper she’d been reading. “Or a new ribbon, perhaps?”
Kate shook her head, smiling. “Just some ink. I haven’t any reason for new lace or ribbons today.”
“Are you certain?” Sally plunked a bottle of ink on the counter. “That’s not what I hear.”
The sly note in the girl’s voice made Kate snap to attention.
“What did you hear?”
Sally feigned innocence. “Only that someone made a trip up to Rycliff Castle the other day. Alone.”
Kate felt her cheeks heating. Which annoyed her, because she had nothing whatever to feel embarrassed or ashamed about. “Yes, I did walk up to the castle. I needed to speak with Corporal Thorne. We had a . . . a disagreement to settle.”
“Ah.” Sally’s brow arched. “A disagreement to settle. Well, that all sounds very proper.”
“It wasn’t improper, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
Kate declined to mention the fact that she’d come upon the man at his labor. Half-dressed, drenched with perspiration. All that bronzed skin stretched over a hard, muscled body . . . his broad-shouldered silhouette was burned into her memory now. As though she’d stared directly at the sun, and the impression lingered on her retinas.
“I’m just teasing you, Miss Taylor. I know there’s nothing untoward between you. But mind you be careful. You don’t want the wrong idea getting around. Else you’re sure to suffer a plague of small mishaps. Salt will find its way into your sugar bowl, pins will be left in your hemmed skirts, and so forth.”
Kate frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Envy. Half the women in the village will be wishing you ill.”
“They’d envy me? Why?”
“Cor, you truly don’t know.” Sally straightened the pieces of jewelry in the display case. “From the moment Lord Rycliff’s party rode into the village last summer, I know all you ladies of the Queen’s Ruby had your eyes on Lord Payne. Dashing, handsome, charming. What gentlewoman wouldn’t take a fancy to him? But there’s other women in this village, Miss Taylor. Serving girls, sailors’ widows, housemaids . . . women who won’t bother to dream of a viscount. They’ve all been jostling to catch Corporal Thorne.”
“Truly? But . . .” Kate slapped at a gnat pestering her neck. “But he’s so big. And rough. And coarse mannered.”
“Exactly.” Sally gave her a knowing smile.
Kate wondered at it.
“So far, it’s all come to naught. Traps have been laid for him all over this village, but he’s evaded every one. Rumor is, he’s got himself an ‘arrangement’ with a widow next town over. Goes to pay her a kindly visit once or twice a month, if you catch my meaning.”
Kate did catch Sally’s meaning. And it made her suddenly, unaccountably nauseous. Naturally, Corporal Thorne had the right to do whatever he pleased with whomever he pleased. She just didn’t like knowing about it.
Much less picturing it.
She gave herself a brisk mental shake.
“Well, you can spread the word”—and she knew Sally would—“that the women of Spindle Cove have nothing to envy. There’s absolutely nothing between me and Corporal Thorne. Nothing but polite acquaintance on my side, and certainly no affection on his. The man barely tolerates my existence.”
Thorne had been only too eager to see Kate leave that day. She recalled the terse impatience in his motions as he’d shown her to the castle gate, once their conversation was concluded. Evidently, digging a well was more entertaining.
Sally shrugged, wiping a dusting cloth over the shelves behind the counter. “You never know, Miss Taylor. No one thought there was anything between Miss Minerva and Lord Payne, either. And look at them.”