Page 21 of Once Upon a Townsbridge Story
“What’s going on?” a man asked.
“Looks like Mr. Townsbridge is offering marriage,” a lady answered.
“Impossible. The man’s a renowned rake.”
Margaret ignored them. She’d no idea how anyone including herself could have been so wrong about her future husband. Smiling down at him, she held his gaze and blocked out all else. It seemed he did the same as he said, “There is no one else with whom I would rather hunt for slugs and worms, no other lady with whom I can imagine forging a closer bond. You are my dearest friend, confidante, and partner in mischief, and I will be the most fortunate man in the world if you agree to become my wife. Please, Margaret, accept my hand, and I shall promise to love you until I draw my last breath.”
“Yes.” She barely managed to get the word out on account of the fierce emotion clogging her throat. “Yes, George, I will marry you.”
He was on his feet once again and pulling her into his arms while cheers erupted around them. Her parents came to offer congratulations. George handed Margaret her now half-empty glass of champagne. He raised his own in a toast. “To you and all the wonderful years I look forward to spending with you.”
“To both of us,” Margaret said, “and to our parents for bringing us together.”
“Hear, hear,” Papa said, his arm linked with Mama’s.
“If you will excuse us,” George told them, “I promised your daughter a walk on the terrace.”
“Of course,” Mama said. “We can leave the wedding preparations for later.”
Eager to escape the ordeal her mother no doubt had in mind, Margaret grabbed George’s arm and gave it a tug. “Let’s go.”
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“THANK YOU FOR COMINGto my rescue,” Margaret said as George guided her out onto the terrace and drew her toward a darkened corner.
“I hope you know I will always do so, but let’s agree not to speak any more of what happened with Shrewsberry this evening. I’d much rather talk about your incredible declaration of love and how glorious you looked while defending me - like my very own Valkyrie warrior.”
“I had to say something.”
“And in the process, you cut our three month deal one week short.”
“It couldn’t be helped.”
“No?”
“No.” She raised one hand to cup his cheek. “I know what I want, George. In fact, I have for some time. So what’s the sense in waiting?”
“There’s no sense at all,” he murmured. “And the best part of all is that we can now do this without repercussion.”
His mouth captured hers, full of love, full of hope, and with every assurance that there were decades of happiness ahead of them, just waiting to be savored.
“I love you,” she murmured.
“And I love you,” he whispered while he drew her closer. “I always will.”
THE END
