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“L illian!” Miss Darrow burst into the office, her gray hair wild around her face, wearing little more than a dressing robe, and with none other than a similarly disheveled James at her heels.

Matthew rubbed his face. That was a mental image he could have happily lived without.

“What is it, my dear friend?” Lillian was at once on her feet, clasping the elderly lady’s hand and frowning in accusation at James. “Matthew,” she muttered.

Miss Darrow followed Lillian’s gaze. “Oh. Oh! No, not that. Mr. Barnes and I… well, we are engaged to be married, so there’s no harm done, but…

” she shook her head sharply, wisps of gray hair flying.

“It is Amelia! She has taken her leave! She knocked on my door and announced that she would take the carriage her sister sent and depart posthaste. I tried to delay her to obtain a further explanation, but before I could make myself decent, she was already gone.”

“Gone?” Matthew was already on his way into the corridor. “She did not give you any reason?”

Miss Darrow shook her head.

Lillian patted the other woman’s shoulder, but her eyes were on her brother. “Matthew,” she said. “I heard footsteps in the hall. Perhaps Amelia heard something that put her off.”

“I did everything but profess my undying love for her. What could she possibly have taken offense to?” He tried to recount the conversation word for word, but it was too difficult with the prospect of his happily ever after riding off in a cloud of carriage dust.

An idea formed, wild and possible. “How long ago did she depart?”

Miss Darrow clung to James’s arm. “A few minutes.”

“Lillian,” Matthew turned. “I will need your help without arguments.”

His sister’s eyes sparkled. “With what?”

“The jape to top all japes.”

*

Bad luck. Blasted terrible bad luck. No sooner had they rounded the lake than the damn lead horse threw a shoe.

Amelia stood at the roadside with her hands on her hips, gaping at the driver, the carriage, and the lamed horse with disbelief flavored by just a pinch of panic.

“We can have him reshod in the village,” the driver was saying.

“If the smithy has returned from his holiday in the Lake Country!” Amelia shrieked.

She was loud and shrill, drawing every eye to her. Both human and equine. Of which, the latter outnumbered the former. But still, she ought to have felt embarrassed. But after the events of the last hour, she was in no state to dissect the tangled mess that was her emotions.

“I can go back to the manor and request that we borrow a horse from His Grace,” the driver suggested. He spoke in low, slow tones, like she was one of the horses about to make a break for it.

Amelia threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine. I shall start walking in the meantime. If you catch me up, all well and good. If not, I shall see you in Derbyshire!”

And without waiting for what would be either apoplexy from shock or an argument begging her to wait patiently, Amelia turned and stomped down the road. Of course, the road curved around the edge of the lake. The effect was picturesque when approaching the estate from the village.

Amelia kicked a rock into the still surface.

Of course, her only egress ran alongside the lake that had been the source of all of her misfortune since arriving at the duke and duchess’s home.

She plowed on in shoes entirely unsuited for walking, determined not to look at the lake at all.

She kept her gaze fixed firmly forward. And she certainly ignored the voices that rose in the distance.

Matthew had probably told the entire party about her debacle in the mud.

No one was scared anymore. They were all cavorting in the lake and having a grand laugh at her expense.

Except that wasn’t laughter. Those were screams.

Amelia spun, thankful that the hard dirt of the road did not betray her the way the mud had days before. But even steady as she was, she blinked several times as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

At the edge of the lake, perhaps a quarter of the way around, appeared to be the entirety of the duchess’s house guests. But that wasn’t what caught her eye or forced her mouth open in disbelief.

It was the mud-drenched, slimy, roaring monster emerging from the lakebed.

Mrs. McTavish—at least, she thought it was Mrs. McTavish, hard to be certain at a distance—swooned into her husband’s arms. The artist drew what must be a palette knife from his belt, waving it wildly in the direction of the lake monster.

How could that be? The lake monster wasn’t real. It was her, covered in mud, and she was on the other side of the lake. But there was something familiar about the height and shape of the monster’s shoulders…

Amelia’s hand flew to her mouth. On the other side of the lake, cries turned to gasps, then to exclamations, and finally to laughter.

Then the lake monster turned, and Amelia knew he was looking for her.

Whatever the rest of the guests did, she did not notice.

She watched as the muddy monster clambered up onto the lake edge and then slowly made its way around.

His feet stuck in the grass, caked as they were with the thick lake mud.

Whole globs of it slid off as he walked so that, by the time Matthew stopped in front of her some minutes later, she could at least make out the pattern on the tailcoat he’d worn that morning.

And then the monster spoke. “I told you I would take care of it.”

Amelia opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish to be eaten by a lake monster.

“I do not know what you overheard in the study. But what was discussed was the peculiarity of love and my intention to ask for your hand in marriage without my sister’s interference.

Whatever you want to ask, whatever you think you may have heard, I can promise you that was the content of our discussion.

You can consult with Lillian and Tarin if you doubt my veracity.

” He exhaled, a bit of mud flaking off of his lips.

“But what I did not tell them is this—because I wanted you to be the first to hear the words from my lips. I love you, Amelia Wartham. I love the soft smiles that curve your lips when you think no one is watching. I love how seriously you consider every situation and the regard you have for the feelings of others. I love your quiet and I love your laughter. I love you .”

Silence stretched between them. A bird chirped overhead. A frog in the lake croaked.

Amelia opened her mouth. Closed it. And then burst out laughing. She took a step closer, reached for him, and then yanked her hand back. “I thought you’d told your sister about the lake monster.”

Matthew’s hand twitched at his side, but he did not reach for her. “You asked me not to. I would never break your confidence. Though once I’d discovered you’d gone, I did ask her to get all of the guests down to the lake.”

“This was your best plan? To fool everyone into thinking you were the lake monster all along? What if I’d already gone?” More laughter bubbled out of her chest, unrestrained and beautiful. Heat spread through her cheeks, chest, and heart.

“Best? Perhaps not. But in that case, I would have laid the matter of the lake monster to rest and then come after you.” He scratched at a chunk of mud on his forehead. “I might have taken a bath first.”

Amelia reached up, brushing away the mud, freeing that lock of golden hair that liked to frequent his brow. “You always seem to be coming after me,” she said softly.

His hands encircled her waist. And even though she wore one of her favorite pink dresses, she did not push them away or flinch when he pressed his forehead to hers and said, “I always will.”

Amelia’s cheeks hurt from laughing. Her chest hurt from something entirely different. “I love you,” she breathed into the inches between. “I always will.” And then she kissed her lake monster.

The End