Page 41 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)
Chapter Thirty-Two
T he morning after the festival
Henry had spent a sleepless night pacing his study, the emerald ring box sitting on his desk like both a promise and a challenge.
After yesterday's dramatic declaration at the festival, after Marianne's acceptance of his public proposal, he knew he owed her something more intimate, more personal—a moment that belonged just to them.
He found her in the back garden at dawn, still in her dressing gown, sitting on the stone bench with Wellington at her feet and Clarence preening nearby.
She looked up as he approached, and her smile was soft with the sort of contentment that came after storms had passed and clarity had finally arrived.
"You're up early," she said, making room for him on the bench.
"I couldn't sleep," Henry admitted, settling beside her. "I kept thinking about yesterday, about everything that was said... and everything that wasn't."
"What wasn't said?"
Henry pulled the ring box from his pocket, noting how Marianne's eyes widened at the sight of the midnight blue velvet.
"Yesterday was about declaring myself publicly, about making sure the entire county knew how I felt about you.
But I realized I never gave you a proper proposal. Just you and me, without an audience."
Marianne's hand flew to her throat. "Henry..."
"Walk with me?" he asked, standing and offering his arm. "There's something I want to show you."
They made their way through the garden paths, past the herb beds and rose arbors, toward the lavender fields that stretched between their properties. The morning mist was just beginning to lift, and the air was sweet with the scent of late-blooming flowers and the promise of autumn.
Behind them, their unlikely procession followed: Wellington trotting with dignified purpose, Clarence strutting with his tail feathers catching the early sunlight, Gerald making soft conversational sounds as he supervised the expedition, and even Beelzebub emerging from the herb garden to see what momentous event was unfolding.
"I think we have an audience after all," Marianne observed with a laugh, glancing back at their animal entourage.
"The most important audience," Henry agreed. "The ones who know us best."
They reached the heart of the lavender field, where the purple blooms stretched in neat rows toward the horizon and the morning light turned everything golden.
Henry stopped and turned to face Marianne, taking her hands in his while their menagerie arranged itself in what appeared to be a deliberate circle around them.
"Marianne," Henry began, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, "three months ago, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted from life. Order, control, the sort of peaceful existence that never surprised me or challenged my assumptions."
"And now?" she asked softly, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Now I know that what I really wanted was you.
Your beautiful chaos, your impulsive kindness, your way of making everything around you more alive and meaningful.
" Henry dropped to one knee right there among the lavender, pulling out the ring box with hands that trembled only slightly.
"I want to spend my life learning to be worthy of your love, supporting your dreams, and building something together that's bigger than either of us could create alone. "
He opened the box to reveal not just one ring, but two—a delicate band of gold set with pearls for her, and a broader gold band for himself.
"I had them made in London earlier, just in case,” Henry cleared his throat, his voice rough with emotion. "Matching rings, because marriage should be about partnership, about both people choosing each other every day."
Clarence chose that moment to release a triumphant shriek that echoed across the fields, as if announcing to all of Somerset that this was indeed a moment worthy of celebration.
"Marianne Linfield," Henry said, looking up at the woman who had turned his world upside down in the most wonderful way possible, "will you marry me?
Will you let me love you exactly as you are for the rest of our days?
Will you help me become the sort of man who deserves to stand beside someone as remarkable as you? "
Wellington barked once, sharp and clear, as if adding his own endorsement to the proposal.
Marianne looked down at Henry kneeling among the lavender, surrounded by the animals that had become their extended family, offering her not just love but true partnership.
Tears spilled over as she realized this was exactly what she'd dreamed of but never dared hope for—someone who wanted to build a life with her chaos included, not despite it.
"Yes," she whispered, then louder, "Yes, Henry, yes to all of it."
He slipped the ring onto her finger with reverent care, then stood to kiss her while Gerald crowed his approval, Beelzebub bleated what sounded remarkably like congratulations, and Clarence began the most elaborate courtship display of his dramatic career.
Her lips were soft, just as he’d imagined. But the feelings that flooded him were anything but soft. Tender, yes, but not soft. His hands pulled her closer, his mouth hungrily seeking hers.
She responded immediately, her hands reaching up his chest, clutching his lapel.
He could hardy contain his delight. One as yet unanticipated benefit to a passionate, carefree woman was perhaps her obvious enjoyment of the more physical aspects of the relationship. He smiled, immediately halting the heat between them. “Why Marianne, I do believe I enjoy kissing you.”
Her face turned the loveliest shade of pink. “Do you?”
“Yes, very much.”
Her expression turned smug. “Then we shall have to plan for many more such diversions.”
He pulled her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. “And many unplanned as well, I predict.”
She giggled and pressed her cheek to his chest.
"We're engaged," Marianne spoke into his chest.
“We're engaged," Henry confirmed, pulling back to look at her face. "And judging by the response, I think our household approves."
Wellington had positioned himself at their feet with the satisfied air of a dog whose matchmaking efforts had finally succeeded.
Napoleon appeared from somewhere in the lavender, squawking "All hands on deck!
" with obvious enthusiasm. Even Miss Whiskers emerged from her morning hunt to observe the proceedings with regal approval.
"I love you," Henry said, framing Marianne's face with his hands.
"I love your animals, your garden, your way of making every ordinary day into an adventure.
I love that you climb trees and argue with peacocks and think nothing of calling on neighbors at inappropriate hours when something important needs discussing. "
"I love you too," Marianne replied, her voice full of wonder. "I love your careful planning and your kind heart and the way you've learned to see beauty in my chaos. I love that you're brave enough to risk everything for love."
Around them, the lavender swayed in the morning breeze while their menagerie settled into contented observation of this perfect moment. The sun climbed higher, promising a warm autumn day full of possibility.
"So," Henry said, tucking Marianne's hand through his arm as they prepared to walk back toward the cottage, "shall we go plan a wedding? I'm thinking something small and intimate, with plenty of room for animal attendants."
"Something perfectly chaotic," Marianne agreed with a radiant smile.
"Something perfectly us," Henry corrected, and kissed her again while Clarence provided a soundtrack of triumphant shrieks that probably woke half the county.
Behind them, the lavender field held the memory of promises made and love declared, while ahead lay a future bright with the sort of happiness that came from finding exactly the right person to share life's beautiful adventure with.
Even if that person came with a decidedly unconventional family of four-legged and feathered relatives who had strong opinions about everything from garden design to romantic timing.
Some proposals, Marianne thought as they walked home with their escort of devoted animals, really were worth waiting for.
Especially when they came with matching rings, lavender-scented morning air, and the promise of a lifetime of perfectly chaotic happiness.