When Rachel appeared in the doorway in a gown that looked even more crumpled than it had a few hours before as a result of the fact that she had just let it fall to the floor when she undressed, she was looking extremely ill-at-ease. Mrs. Saunders had told her that David had been sleeping in his study when her papa and Algie arrived. He had not gone at dawn, then, to explain the situation. Poor David. He must be feeling dreadfully guilty.

He was standing with his back to the fireplace opposite the doorway, looking pale, tired, and incredibly untidy. For once even his eyes were not smiling.

And then somehow she was in Algie's curricle with her papa while Algie took his gig from the back of the vicarage. And Papa was gravely advising her that her unwise behavior of the night before had put her in a very compromising situation but that she should not feel herself totally bound to accept Mr. Gower when he called on her that afternoon. There would be a nasty scandal, of course, and all their guests were to leave the following day to carry news of it to the far corners of the kingdom. But what was that to them? They would brave local opinion in the knowledge that scandals were quickly forgotten.

David was coming to offer her marriage! And all because road conditions had forced them to spend the night in the same building, albeit on different floors and with the added presence of a female housekeeper!

He was going to do the honorable thing and make an honest woman of her.

Over her dead body!

***

Rachel was not in the house when David called that afternoon. She was supposed to be. She had been excused by the countess from the ride that was to be the final daytime activity for the houseguests and sent to her room to get ready. Both Mama and Papa had explained to her that they would not try to force her to accept David's offer, but both had been insistent that she receive that offer with the proper decorum.

But she had slipped outside. She had been tempted to leave altogether, to walk up into the hills, or to go and visit the Perkinses. The urge to see the new baby was strong on her anyway. But she could not bring herself to be quite so openly disobedient. As it was, she had been roundly scolded-by both parents separately-for her irresponsible behavior of the night before.

She was sitting on the uphill slope north of the house, weaving an endless daisy chain. She was almost unaware that she did so, but she had to keep her hands busy. And her mind blank.

David found her there. She saw him come even though she did not look up from her task. Her heart turned over inside her, and she compressed her lips.

"Hello, Rachel," he said, stopping in front of her so that she was aware of the shiny worn leather of his top boots.

She had expected him to be very formal, rather as the Marquess of Stanford had been earlier that morning before he left, when he had explained that under the circumstances he thought it wise not to renew his offer.

"I do not wish to talk to you, David," she said, splitting the stem of a daisy with her fingernail and fitting another through it with great care. "It is only because Mama and Papa insisted that I am here at all. I do not wish to hear you offer me marriage just because the world will not believe that we could spend the night under one roof without also spending it in the same bed. I feel a little insulted, sir, though I suppose I must thank you for the sense of honor that has brought you here."

"Rachel." He stooped down on his haunches in front of her so that she became suffocatingly aware of his nearness. She joined the two ends of the chain. There were no more daisies to add unless she moved from her place. "It is not merely or mainly for that reason that I have come."

"And I will not live in Richmond with you, basking in the luxury of your inherited fortune," she said. "I will be totally insulted by such a proposal again."

"I don't blame you," he said quietly. "It was very wrong of me to make that offer to you yesterday. I beg your forgiveness. I did it because I love you and I want you. And I have always thought it a man's responsibility to protect the woman he loves from all harm and hardship. I love you, Rachel, and I have tried to protect your way of life even if you were unwilling to do so for yourself. I have not credited you with any mind of your own or any strength of character. I have been very wrong. Please forgive me. I erred out of love, not out of any malice."

"You think me frivolous, pampered, and empty-headed," she said. "You really do not know me at all, David. I have always been happiest living quietly here, visiting my friends at the cottages. I have never craved social pleasures. I sought them out this year merely because my education as a lady had taught me that that was what I should want."

"When your father came to the vicarage this morning," David said, "I realized the necessity of making this visit. But I would have been making it anyway, Rachel. Please believe me. You see, last night I accepted the fact that I love you and wish you to be my wife. I have very little to offer except my devotion. But I will offer you that. Your feelings and your response must be yours to decide. I can see all the reasons why you should not make such a match, but the decision is not mine. It is yours. And I am yours, Rachel, if you will have me."

"Not in Richmond," she whispered, looking up at him for the first time.

"Here," he said. "We would stay here."

"And not with that fortune to buy me clothes and jewelry," she said. ›

"I have rejected my godmother's legacy, Rachel," he said.

"And you must not guard my dowry to spend on me," she said. "You must spend it as you do the money you earn."

He reached for her hand. "We will be very poor, dear," he said.

"No, we will not," she said, grasping his hand tightly. "We will not, David. You do not really believe so and neither do I. 'Consider the lilies of the field.' "

He smiled into her eyes. "You are quite right," he said. "We will be the wealthiest family in the parish. You see what beautiful jewels you will wear?" He took the daisy chain from her lap and looped it twice about her neck. "I will give you gifts of daisies, Rachel. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will, David," she said, her eyes shining into his as she put her arms up around his neck. "And you will teach me to make the adjustments to a new way of life. For I know I will find it difficult even though I know equally well that I will be able to do it and that I will be happy."

"And you will teach me to be joyful and trusting," he said. "To trust other people's strength as well as my own. You are a strong person, Rachel. You will be a better wife than I deserve. I love you so very dearly."

"Kiss me," she said, tightening her arms around him. "Before we go to find Mama and Papa and before we go to visit and admire the newest Master Perkins, kiss me. And I really do not think there is any hurry, for everyone else has gone riding, you see, except Lord and Lady Mountford. So Mama and Papa have nothing to do except relax and wait for us to come. And I will have plenty of time later to tell you Celia and Algie's news. They are going to be married, you know, and I am very delighted for both of them. They will suit, do you not chink?"

David's arms had closed around her so that they knelt together on the grass, clasped in each other's arms.

"The first thing I remember about you is your prattling," he said, smiling at her, his lips beginning to tease hers. "On Bond Street. I shall enjoy it for a lifetime, dear, I swear I will, provided only that you control the urge when you have asked me to kiss you."

"Oh, yes, of course I will," she said, her lips responding to the teasing of his. "David. Oh, David, have I told you how much I love you?"

"Mm," he said. "Tell me later. As many times as you wish, dear. But much later."

"Yes," she said, "much, much later, David, if you please. Mmmm."