“There is something else, isn’t there? Godfrey told you something?”
She looked up at him in mute appeal. He took her hand again in a comforting clasp and would not let her withdraw it.
“When I asked your uncle’s permission to pay my addresses, he saw fit to reveal certain facts to me,” said Oliver gravely. “My poor sweetheart, you cannot suppose that an engineer would be in the least interested in a scandal a quarter of a century old!”
“It is true then. I was not certain. But whichever way it goes, there is bad blood.”
“I do not know what Penderric told you. Your mother was an innocent, trusting girl who was deceived. As for your father, his conduct toward her was inexcusable, but there is nothing to suggest that he was not otherwise an upstanding citizen and a fine officer. Would she have loved him else? And if there is any stigma attached to the Penderrics, why that is not your burden.”
“You are very reassuring, Oliver.” She looked at him searchingly.
“And persuasive, I hope. Ruth, you must know that I adore you. Will you marry me?”
“If you are quite sure
...
yes, I know you are. I love you, too, Oliver, and nothing in the world could make me happier than to be your wife.”
Somehow she found herself sitting on his knee, leaning against his broad chest, his arms enfolding her. After a long kiss, they both gazed silently into the fire, contemplating sweet memories and happy dreams.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Ruth suddenly.
“Sweetheart,” said Oliver with a grin, “Pray do not think me impertinent, but your stomach is rumbling quite excessively.”
“Wretch!” she cried. “I hope they bring dinner soon. I am exceedingly hungry!”
Copyright © 1984 by Carola Dunn
Originally published by Walker
Electronically published in 2005 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.