She wet her lips. “It is much to ask.”
“Yes, it is.” Hart cradled her face in his hands, his thumb smoothing across her lower lip. “And I will do everything in my power to make sure you do not regret it.”
Eleanor looked into his eyes. She read the certainty of victory in the amber depths, surety that he’d win everything he wanted. And yet, behind it, she saw fear. Hart was poised at a crossroads—from this day forward, his life could go in any direction. And he was afraid.
He was not alone in his fear. Eleanor’s throat was tight, her knees weak, her limbs trembling as her entire life was swept away by the utterance of a few words.
“I suppose this means Curry has lost his forty guineas,” she said.
“Damn his forty guineas.” Hart pulled her to him and kissed her. His hard embrace told Eleanor she’d never get away from him again, and Eleanor, sinking into Hart’s wonderful warmth, was unsure she wanted to go.
When Eleanor and Hart reached the house, all was chaos. Romany children ran around the field, in spite of the rain, chasing or being chased by Mackenzie and McBride children. The Mackenzie dogs joined the Romany goats and dogs in the romping, barking or bleating nonstop. The children screamed with a sound that could peel paint from walls.
Fleming came to meet Hart and Eleanor, leading his horse, his flask still out. “Good God, it’s a massacre,” he said, taking a drink. Hart agreed with him.
The running children saw them and streamed their way, Aimee shouting at the top of her lungs. “Uncle Hart! Aunt Eleanor! Come and see our tent. It’s a real Romany tent.” The Romany children piled around her, some understanding her English, some not. They smiled up at Hart, black eyes dancing.
Adults came after the children—Mac, Daniel, Ian, Ainsley stopping to lift and cradle her crawling daughter, Gavina, named for the child Ainsley had lost. Ian’s son, Jamie, saw his father, waddled determinedly toward him, and threw his arms around Ian’s leg.
Ian’s eyes softened from his usual distant stare to focus on his son. He smoothed the boy’s hair, then let Jamie hang on to his boot as he walked, slowly, toward Hart. Jamie laughed, loving the game.
“What’s happened?” Ainsley asked, shielding Gavina from the rain. “Something’s happened, Eleanor. Tell.”
Ian stopped next to David and lifted Jamie, both to keep him away from Fleming’s horse’s hooves and to let Jamie pet the beast’s nose.
“Eleanor will marry Hart,” Ian said.
A huge smile blossomed on Ainsley’s face as Eleanor’s mouth popped open. “How on earth do you know that, Ian Mackenzie?” Eleanor asked.
Ian didn’t answer. Jamie went on petting the horse with his tiny hand.
“True?” Daniel demanded.
“Sadly,” Fleming answered. “I’m an unfortunate witness.”
“Next month,” Hart said in clipped tones. “At Kilmorgan.” He was very aware of Eleanor’s hand in the crook of his arm, her grip tightening as he spoke.
“Next month?” Ainsley said, eyes wide. “That’s very little time. Isabella will be incensed. She’ll want a grand wedding.”
Mac laughed out loud. “Good on you, Eleanor. You fixed him at last.”
“That’s twenty pounds you owe me, Uncle Mac,” Daniel said.
“And me, Mac Mackenzie.” Ainsley hoisted her daughter and made to turn away. “And twenty you owe Ian, and Beth. Teach you to bet against Eleanor.”
Mac kept laughing. “I am happy to lose. But I truly thought you’d give him the boot, El. He is such a bastard, after all.”
“She’s not at the altar yet,” Fleming said. “Double or nothing she comes to her senses before then?”
Mac waved him away, still grinning. “Learned my lesson. Never wager against anything that depends on Hart Mackenzie. He’s devious and underhanded, and he gets his way every time.”
“I say he won’t,” Fleming said in his lazy drawl.
Daniel pointed at him. “Done. I’ll take that wager. I say Eleanor gets him to the altar.”
Hart ignored them all. He turned Eleanor to him and pressed a casual kiss to her lips. Marking her as his in front of family, friends, and rivals.
Ian alone stayed quiet. But the look he sent Hart—one of determined satisfaction—unnerved Hart a bit. Ian Mackenzie was a man who always got what he wanted, and sometimes Hart wasn’t entirely sure what Ian wanted. But he knew he’d find out, and that Ian would win, whatever it was.
Gladstone lost his control of the government. In a loud victory, Hart’s coalition, led by David Fleming in Commons, defeated Gladstone’s weakly supported bill wholeheartedly. Gladstone, frowning his formidable frown, saw nothing for it but to dissolve Parliament and call for elections.