To him, it sounded perfect.

  To her, it sounded like… failure. Like settling for less. Like giving up.

  But what if he could convince her otherwise? He couldn’t scale the Himalayas or take her diving beneath the sea, but he could offer a happy home, annual holidays, and a lifetime of love. Surely that would be just as compelling an offer as endless, grueling exploring. Wouldn’t it?

  “Hypothetically,” he began. “If you were to choose between, say, eleven months a year on a boat in exchange for a few weeks’ adventure, or marrying a man who—”

  The maid fled the room as if her mobcap had caught fire.

  “It doesn’t matter what the man has,” Priscilla said, “unless what he possesses is unquenchable thirst for adventure. Some people only holiday. Not me. A holiday is what you do to avoid your real life for a while. I want adventure to be my life. When every day is marvelous, there’s no reason to want a break from it.”

  “But how realistic is that?” he asked gently. “I understand it’s your dream, but it doesn’t sound like reality. How would you afford such adventures? Who would you go with?”

  Priscilla did not look like a woman who had just had the cold, hard truth splashed in her face, but rather like a woman about to deliver some cold, hard truth of her own.

  “I’ve no dowry,” she said at last. “But there is a trust I’m not supposed to talk about. If I’m unwed on my twenty-fifth birthday, I inherit a great deal of money. I can travel with my father or grandfather, or I can create an entourage of my own. For our first stop, Koffi and I are going to Africa. And then…” She gestured to shelves filled with globes and travel books. “I’ll never stop moving again.”

  Thad could not hide his disappointment.

  No dowry didn’t signify. He hadn’t been looking for one. But she was. An inheritance to do with as she pleased. And what pleased her was… leaving.

  He let his arm fall back to his lap. Keeping it locked around her was nothing more than wishful thinking.

  Had he feared someday falling for a woman who had a better option? Priscilla had plenty of better options. She didn’t need him or anyone. She had adventurers in the family who would take her anywhere. And money to give her the freedom to go everywhere she wished.

  That was his answer. It wasn’t a question of marrying someone who would be miserable because his love wasn’t enough. Thad was searching for a woman who would choose him, and Priscilla was explicitly not choosing him.

  “When will you leave?” he asked.

  Her eyes lit up. “That very day.”

  “When?” he insisted.

  “Next year,” she said. “The thirtieth of July.”

  There. He had his timeline. Sixteen months of knowing he was temporary and not enough. Or he could end it now. Today.

  “It’s why I didn’t dance with you,” she said softly. “At Almack’s, when you asked. I wanted to very much. But the terms of the inheritance…”

  She wanted to dance, but she wanted her freedom more. He could not possibly begrudge her that. Anyone would feel the same. Women, in particular, had so few options. Of course the promise of independence would have a sweeter song than a ball and chain.

  “It’s an incredible opportunity,” he said, and meant it. “You’re very fortunate.”

  “I know,” she said. “It’s everything I ever wanted.” Her eyes dimmed. “Almost everything.”

  She was right, he realized. If she chose the life of adventure, it was all or nothing. If she married, the money from her inheritance would belong to her husband, not her. She’d lose her freedom. Her independence. Her husband could prevent her from going anywhere at all, and there would be nothing she could do about it.

  Other than refuse to marry at all.

  “I think I’ve overstayed my thirty minutes,” he said and pushed to his feet.

  She rose to hers as well. “Grandmother is hoping you’ll break more rules than that.”

  But they both knew it wouldn’t lead to something permanent.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as he gathered Wednesday into the basket.

  He kissed her on the cheek. “You shouldn’t be. You’re making your own fate, just like you advised me to do.”

  She nodded, eyes sad. “And I hope you do.”

  “I will,” he said, but didn’t mean it.

  Not until he was back in his carriage with the reins in his hands, basket at his side.

  What if Princess Charming was the one riding off to a life of adventure and romance? His gaze flicked up toward her window. He could watch her disappear on her white steed. Or he could perhaps… join her?

  He couldn’t think of a perfect compromise right now, but there had to be something. Every minute of inaction brought him closer to the moment when it would all be too late.

  Make your own fate, he told himself as he put his gig in motion.

  Find a way to win her before she’s lost forever.

  Chapter 11

  Thad sat in his usual comfortable chair in its usual spot of his usual tavern and gazed out over a mug of his usual ale at all the familiar faces and lifelong friends.

  Walking away from everyone and everything and every place he loved wasn’t compromise. It was settling for less.

  The irony was not lost on him.

  All his life, he had been terrified of falling for someone who saw his love as second best. He’d been unwilling to force some theoretical wife to give up what she really wanted.

  Now he was considering doing so himself?

  There had to be another way. He wasn’t against adventure. In fact, he could easily imagine exploring new horizons side-by-side with Priscilla.

  Exploring, sometimes. Not all the time. He could also imagine lazy afternoons before a fire, revisiting “their walk” beneath Vauxhall’s fireworks, finally having that dance they’d both wanted to say yes to, but couldn’t have.

  “Fresh beer?” asked a serving girl.

  Thad tilted his mug to display its full, if foam-less, contents.

  She nodded and moved on.

  Was that what Thad should do? Move on?

  The idea didn’t instill him with any more joy than the idea of never seeing the Wicked Duke again.

  Adventure was fine. A lifetime of adventure… Could Priscilla really expect anyone to relinquish every other part of their lives?

  The barmaid was back. She took the flat ale from his hand and replaced it with a fresh serving.

  “On the house,” she said with a smile.

  Thad nodded.

  The Wicked Duke’s generosity made him want to drink his ale even less. Only valued, frequent customers received mugs of beer on the house.

  He took a sip. It was delicious. He put it down.

  Was that what he valued? The occasional glass of free ale because he spent so much time in the same chair in the same corner of the same place?

  The Wicked Duke wasn’t the end of a fairy-tale. It was the beginning. It was the catalyst, from which a man in love decided what the devil he intended to do about it. How he planned to make his own fate, with the woman he chose to share it with.

  Priscilla made him want more than a happy ever after. She made him want it with her.

  Thad downed his ale and rose to his feet.

  If he wanted to share a life with the woman he loved, what was he doing in a tavern she couldn’t even enter?

  He exited into the street and blinked at the waning sun.

  There was his trusty horse and gig. Arguably more stylish than the sweaty back of a camel, but was it more fun? A better story to tell the grandchildren?

  He untied the gig and swung up into the seat.

  His horse headed for home.

  Thad frowned. He’d always dreamed of sharing his home with a wife, but did it need to be the one on Jermyn Street? He was a renter. The townhouse wasn’t even his. Did the place even matter, as long as they were together?

  He didn’t know precisely how they would work everything out, but the details were something a husband and wife should work out as partners.

  She hadn’t mentioned being amenable to looking for a compromise, but the truth of the matter, the shameful, embarrassing fact was…

  He hadn’t asked.

  He’d sat there in silence, not waiting for fate to come to him but, worse, watching it walk away. They both deserved better than that.

  If there was one thing that was worth risking everything for, it was love. He was in. Was she? There was only one way to find out.

  He turned his horse toward Grosvenor Square.

  If she said no, well… then, that was no. But at least he would have an answer. He would have tried to win the princess.

  And if she says yes? came the niggling, insidious voice that always blocked him from trying. If she says yes, could he believe her? Believe in a future where marrying him wasn’t settling for less?

  And if she said no… how would he go on? Seeing her everywhere he went, counting down the days to her inheritance when he could finally put her out of his sight, if not his heart and mind.

  Thad tightened his grip on the reins.

  He would have to trust and risk and hope. He would be forever resentful of his own inaction if he walked away from his One True Love without even trying to make it last.

  Asking her to marry him was a risk, no matter what the answer. But a “yes” didn’t mean he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps into a loveless marriage.

  Happy Ever After wasn’t a destination, but a lifelong journey. If he married Priscilla, they would create their fate together, as partners. A team. Love wasn’t a lightning strike, but the trip of a lifetime.

  He handed his horse and gig to a footman. No bluebirds and rainbows today. Night had fallen. Thad tried not to take it as a sign.

  The door to the Weatherby townhouse already yawned open. This would either be the greatest moment of his life…

  Or the worst.

  He rolled back his shoulders. If Priscilla wanted to marry him, if she truly believed they would be happy together, then that made two of them. He’d sign any contract.

  And if she could not, if happiness meant separating, if he was the temporary holiday…

  Then Thad would be the one to walk away, and he wouldn’t be back.

  “This way if you please, sir,” said the butler.

  Thad shook his head.

  The front parlor was a pretense and everyone knew it. Mrs. Weatherby had given her consent from the moment she’d glimpsed him.

  The only person whose opinion mattered on the subject was Priscilla.

  “Take me to Miss Weatherby, please,” he said firmly.

  The butler knocked on the closed door to her drawing room.

  A cacophony sounded inside. “Grandmother?”

  “Mr. Middleton to see you,” the butler responded.

  The cacophony ceased and the door swung open.

  “Thaddeus?” she said in wonder. Her parrot sat on her shoulder.

  The butler discreetly took his leave.

  “May we speak privately?” Thad asked.

  She motioned him inside and shut the door.

  “Tea and cake?” squawked Koffi.

  “Shh.” Priscilla upended the contents of what appeared to be a snuffbox onto the closest windowsill.

  Koffi immediately began to dine upon the crumbs.

  “I wasn’t sure…” Priscilla bit her lip as she gazed up at Thad. “I’m glad to see you.”

  “I left things unfinished,” he said. “Now I mean to finish them.”

  He had never been more terrified. He wondered if this was how mountain climbers felt, when they dangled from a rope halfway up a cliff. If things went well, they would become the hero of the story. But if things went badly…

  “I love you,” he said. There. He’d got the most frightening part out first. He ignored the racing of his heart and pushed on. “I want to share the rest of my life with you.”

  Her eyes flew open wide.

  Thad rushed on before she could speak. This was his only chance.

  “There is no fate,” he said, the words coming faster. “You taught me that. I’m here not to make my own destiny, but to forge one together. You and me. Husband and wife.”

  She bit her lip.

  “I know my limitations,” he said quickly. Best to admit the worst bits first. He swallowed hard. “I’m not rich. I can’t promise you endless expeditions and escapades. But I’ll do my damnedest to fill our lives with as much adventure as a man in love possibly can.”

  Her gaze didn’t leave his.

  “‘Happy ever after’ isn’t something that happens to us when we least expect it,” he continued, heart beating faster. “It’s a future we make for ourselves. Something we work toward together. Happiness we deserve because we’re creating it for each other.” He stepped forward. “You are the only adventure I want.”

  She opened her mouth.

  He stopped her, his heart pounding. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

  Her gaze was unreadable.

  “Miss Priscilla Weatherby…” He inhaled shakily and dropped to one knee to gaze up at her. “Will you marry me?”

  Chapter 12

  Priscilla’s heart raced so quickly that her head grew dizzy. She hadn’t thought he’d be back. But he was here. And on one knee.

  He knew what he was asking, and he was asking it anyway.

  She wished they could be together. But they’d never be able to keep their relationship a secret for a year and a half. And if she married him now, there went her inheritance.

  More importantly… marriage was forever.

  Her stomach roiled with fear. It was too hard. Too much. She loved him, but she couldn’t do it. Her fingers shook. How was anyone ever certain enough about someone else to agree to give up her only opportunity for financial freedom, for independence, for a chance to pursue a dream?

  Her throat locked as she replayed her own words. She loved him. She knew it, but had been too frightened to admit the truth even to herself. She loved him and she wanted him—and she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. Now or ever.

  “Mon chéri…” she whispered miserably.

  He closed his eyes.

  She wished she could close hers. It wouldn’t help. The image before her was burned into her memory.

  He wanted her now. She believed him. But it had nothing to do with tomorrow.

  She was a baby when her father left. Nine, when her mother stopped getting up in the mornings. She was a little girl. She needed her mama. But wishes never made anything come true.

  Mother had distanced herself emotionally, stopped replying verbally, stopped responding physically, and then was gone altogether. If a mother could leave, a grandfather, a father, what faith was Priscilla meant to have that any husband she chose would be different?

  The only way to protect her heart was to keep it locked inside.

  “What if I don’t answer?” she said hesitantly. If she said no, she would lose him. Right now, tonight. “Can I think it over?”

  “You already have.” His voice was resigned, defeated. But his gaze was hot and fiery, as if the story was not over, but barely begun.

  Of course she had thought it over. She’d thought of nothing but him for the past month. Every chance meeting, every hand-delivered letter, every stolen kiss and the thousands more she wished they could have stolen.

  “Secret lovers” wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but it was one she could give him. Not a long, drawn-out romance, but perhaps a time or two, with no other public contact that might garner attention. The slightest slip would void the terms of the trust.

  Even if they could somehow hide their longing glances and midnight trysts from society, stringing things along for a year and a half would be torture for them both—and particularly unfair to him, when they both knew how it would end.

  He’d said it himself: he couldn’t provide the life she’d dreamed of. The life she was so close to having. The life she would have to give up, and simply hope that he would always take her with him, that if he left, he would always come back.

  And yet, how could she say no to the man who held her heart? A life of endless adventure had once seemed like everything, and now felt like something would be missing. Like someone would be missing. She could fill her days with wonder after wonder, but how would she ever fill the aching hole in her chest?

  “I do need to think,” she said at last, her stomach in knots. “I thought I had thought every possible thought to think, and now my mind is all topsy-turvy again. I know what I want. I’m trying to work out how to have it. Can you… give me a little time? At least until tomorrow?”

  She expected him to say no. That if she couldn’t say yes now, obviously no yeses were forthcoming. She expected him to be disgusted or angry or hurt.

  She did not expect a smile to spread across his face, or for him to leap to his feet and swing her about the room as if they’d just won a war.

  “What are you—” she tried, laughing, but he was covering her with kisses.

  “It’s not a no,” he said, kissing her between long glances of wonder and shock. “I was so certain…”

  “You thought I would say no, and you asked me anyway?” she said in surprise.

  “I had to. You’re my Everest, my Athens, my Baoulé,” he said, his tone wry but his gaze hot and passionate. “A man can’t walk away from something like that.”

  Priscilla wrapped her arms about him and kissed him with all the love in her heart.

  “Intrepid explorer,” she murmured between kisses. “Can I interest you in a different adventure?”

  “What are you saying?” His tone indicated he was very, very interested.

  She touched the tip of her tongue to the lobe of his ear. “You know what I’m saying.”

  He swept her into his arms and whirled around. “Then yes. At once. Settee? Chair? Do I finally get to ravish you on the carpet?”

  “Next time,” she promised. “It’s unconventional, but I was thinking perhaps my bedchamber might do?”

  “You are an unpredictable minx,” he marveled and then covered her mouth with his.

 

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