"But do you know what is best of all?" he continued. "Underneath this delightful package are a beautiful heart, a beautiful mind, and a beautiful soul."

Henry didn't know what to say, didn't know what she could say that would even approach the emotion of his words. "I... I... thank you."

He responded by kissing her gently on the forehead.

"Do you like the smell of lemons?" she blurted out nervously. "I could stop."

"I love the smell of lemons. Do whatever pleases you."

"I don't know if it works," she said with a lopsided smile. "I've been doing it for so long I don't know what it would look like if I stopped. It might look just the same."

"Just the same would be perfect," he said solemnly.

"But what if I stopped and my hair turned quite dark?"

"That would be perfect, too."

"Silly man. They cannot both be perfect."

He seized her face in his hands. "Silly woman. You are perfect, Hen. It doesn't matter how you look."

"I think you are quite perfect, too," she said softly, covering his hands with her own. "I remember the first time I saw you. I thought you were the most handsome man I'd ever seen."

He pulled her onto his lap, willing himself to be content just to cuddle her this way. He knew he couldn't let himself kiss her even one more time. His body was aching for more, but it would have to wait. Henry was an innocent. Even more importantly, she was his innocent, and she deserved to be treated with respect. "If I recall," he said, lazily tracing circles on her cheek, "the first time you saw me you paid considerably more attention to the pig than to me."

"That wasn't the first time I saw you. I had been watching you from my window." Her expression suddenly grew sheepish. "Actually, I remember thinking that you had an especially fine pair of boots."

He let out a howl of laughter. "Are you telling me you love me for my boots?"

"Well...not anymore," she said with a slight stammer. Was he trying to tease her into admitting to him that she loved him? She was suddenly afraid— afraid she might declare her love for him and he would have nothing to say in return. Oh, this was so difficult. She knew he loved her—she could see it in everything he did—but she wasn't sure he realized it yet, and she didn't think she could bear the pain of his murmuring an inanity like, "I care for you, too, sweetheart."

She decided he had no ulterior motive because he appeared oblivious to her internal distress. Trying to look very grave, he bent down and lifted her skirts up a couple of inches. "Your boots are very nice, too," he said, admirably managing a straight face.

"Oh, Dunford, you do make me happy."

She was looking away from him when she said that, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "You make me happy, too, minx. Unfortunately, I fear I had better get you home before they begin to panic at your absence."

"You did practically abduct me."

"Ah, but the end most definitely justified the means."

"You are probably correct, but I do agree with you that I need to return. Ned will be wildly curious."

"Ah, yes, our dear friend Ned." With a resigned expression, Dunford rapped on the wall, signaling the coachman to drive to the Blydon mansion in Grosvenor Square.

"You must be kinder to Ned," Henry said. "He is a lovely person, and I am sure he will be a good friend."

"I'll be kind to Ned once he's found a woman of his own," Dunford grumbled.

Henry said nothing, too delighted with his obvious jealousy to scold him.

They sat in contented silence for several minutes while the carriage made its way to Grosvenor Square. Finally it rolled to a halt. "I wish I didn't have to leave," Henry said wistfully. "I wish I could stay in this carriage forever."

Dunford hopped down, then put his hands around her waist to help her alight. He held on slightly longer than was necessary once her feet touched the ground. "I know, Hen," he said, "but we've the rest of our lives ahead of us." He bent over her hand, kissed it gallantly, then watched while she walked up the stairs and into the house.

Henry stood in the foyer for a few seconds, trying to comprehend the events of the last hour. How was it that her life could be so perfectly turned around in so short a time?

We've the rest of our lives ahead of us. Had he meant that truly? Did he want to marry her? Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Good God, Henry! Where have you been?"

She looked up. Ned was striding purposefully down the hall. She didn't reply, merely stood there staring at him, her hand still over her mouth.

Ned immediately grew alarmed. Her hair was a mess, and she didn't seem able to speak. "What is going on?" he demanded. "What the devil did he do to you?"

We've the rest of our lives ahead of us.

Her hand fell away from her mouth. "I think..." Her brow furrowed slightly and she tilted her head to the side. Her eyes looked utterly bewildered, and if asked, she wouldn't have been able to describe a single item in the hall. She probably couldn't even have identified the person in front of her without taking a second look. "I think..."

"What, Henry? What?"

"I think I just got engaged."

"You think you got engaged?"

We've the rest of our lives ahead of us.

"Yes. I think I rather did."

Chapter 17

"What did you do?" Belle asked, her voice containing more than a twinge of sarcasm. "Ask yourself for permission to marry her?"