Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

The next morning, Eleanor's feelings were as bleak as the day prior. She lolled in bed until the last moment, which was most unlike her. Even her father, who was not prone to notice something not related to his own comfort, remarked on her distraction.

"Eleanor, you've been staring at your breakfast for nearly twenty minutes. Perhaps you might try eating it."

She dutifully took a bite of her eggs, which were her favorite, albeit not at all appealing this morning. Her mind had turned over and over last night considering how she might restore herself to Mr. Ambrose's good favor. She had not thought of anything worthwhile. Becoming desperate, she may as well ask her father.

"Father, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, dear. I am at your service."

"I may have said something that offended a friend and I do not know how to fix it."

Her father shoveled his eggs into his mouth in a most impolite manner. Eleanor waited impatiently while he washed it down with tea. Finally, he spoke.

"Was it regarding Miss White's bonnet? I found it quite ostentatious myself. Whoever wears birds on their bonnet? Feathers are enough, I think."

Eleanor masked her sigh behind her cup of tea. Her father was really out of touch.

"No, it wasn't the bonnet. I may have said something that was not necessary to say out loud."

"I see. Have you apologized to the girl?"

"I have not."

Her father made a disapproving noise. "That is the first thing to do then."

"Yes, I do think you're right. Please excuse me."

She stood from the table and could not move quick enough to gather her things together. She was wearing her simple day dress and did not take time to change into a more suitable dress for visiting. Once ready, she ran out the front door, shutting it behind her with a bang. There was no time for propriety when she had to visit Sarah and Mr. Ambrose this morning.

Eleanor huffed as she ran up the road leading to Mr. Ambrose's home. She'd visited Miss White and given her apologies, which her friend had graciously accepted. They'd visited briefly before Eleanor made her excuses. She did not tell Miss White her next destination, however.

As she reached the lawn, she paused to smooth her hair and dress. She must look a wreck. Eleanor wished she'd had the foresight to put on a nicer gown and had not rushed so impulsively. Because now she was standing on Mr. Ambrose's lawn, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, tendrils of hair coming loose from their pins, and her morning dress on in the afternoon.

Perhaps her apology to Mr. Ambrose could wait. She'd turned to walk back down the driveway towards her home when she heard her name.

"Miss Westbury! "

The man in question rode towards her on a black mare, stopping just in front of her. He was a fine sight in the afternoon light in his snug riding pants and tall boots. His shirt had come slightly untucked from his pants and his hair was a bit disheveled from the exertion.

Her heart fluttered at his magnificence. "Hello, Mr. Ambrose."

His eyes raked over her appearance and his brow creased in concern. "Is everything all right? Your father?"

He dismounted and stood directly before her, his hands on her shoulders as he peered into her face.

Oh dear. He thought she'd rushed over here due to a tragedy.

"Everything is quite all right, I assure you."

He cocked his head. "Then to what do I owe this impromptu visit? And why do you look like you have just come from the breakfast table?"

"Oh because I have. I mean first I made a visit to Miss White. Now I'm here to see you."

Mr. Ambrose stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Now that I'm assured everyone is heathy, I must tell you I am angry with you."

Eleanor's stomach sank. "I know. I am angry with myself. I allowed my tender feelings to dictate my behavior and for that I am truly sorry."

"It is Miss White who should hear those words."

"I have already come and gone from her to tell her that very thing. She was most gracious."

"You could learn from her composure," he chided. Then as if recalling her earlier words for the first time, his head snapped up to meet her gaze. "What tender feelings?"

Eleanor forced herself to take a breath. "The feelings that I have had for some time, although they were not known to me until yesterday."

"Please speak plainly, for I cannot fathom what you mean to tell me."

"I mean to tell you that I think you are wrong about kissing. "

His expression turned befuddled. "Kissing. We agreed to not speak of that again."

"Yes, but I need to tell you that you are incorrect. Kissing does lead to love when there is a basis of affection already established."

His eyes narrowed and he seemed to peer into her soul. "Love?"

"Yes. I know that it is inconvenient for me to love you, but I cannot change the fact and you need to understand that is why I spoke out of turn."

"You love me?"

She could not tell from his expression whether he was surprised or angry at her revelation, but she nodded.

"Impossible, you cannot love me."

"But I do. Very much, indeed."

"This is most inconvenient."

"That is what I said."

"We cannot marry."

"Mr. Ambrose, I do not wish to marry you."

His eyebrows rose. "Then why are you confessing love to me?"

Eleanor sighed. Men were confusing creatures. "To explain myself. I know that you do not return my affections and that is something I will need to live with."

"You profess to know my feelings?"

Eleanor's pulse raced. "You have never suggested any feelings of which I should be aware. And you were quite friendly with Miss White…"

Mr. Ambrose grunted, a sound she had not heard from the man before. "I was easing her distress at your thoughtless comment. Nothing more."

"Oh." For once, Eleanor was at a loss for words.

Mr. Ambrose scrubbed his hand through his hair in a show of frustration, resulting in an even wilder riot of waves. Eleanor's fingers itched to touch the strands.

"I have not been able to think of another for years," Mr. Ambrose confessed. "I have been captured by thoughts of you—your laugh, your smile, your infernal habit of never being quiet. "

His eyes were wild in a way that was entirely unfamiliar to Eleanor, but she craved more. More of those words that indicated he felt as she did. Her world had irrevocably turned upside down, and she had the sensation of tumbling down a hill with nothing to stop her. She did not know what the next move was.

"I…" She found she had no words, which was most unusual.

Mr. Ambrose stepped closer. "Eleanor, I need to be clear in my understanding. You are saying you love me."

She nodded. "Yes."

It occurred to her that she should feel embarrassment for having laid her heart bare to Mr. Ambrose—all while in her morning dress looking as if she'd run miles to reach him. Yet she felt nothing but the seed of hope in her heart.

His presentation was no more poised than her own. His shirt had now come nearly fully untucked and she found herself captivated by the top buttons, which were undone. A sliver of chest was visible along with a smattering of dark hair.

"Eleanor." His name brought her attention back to his face. "I had not intended to relieve myself of this burden, yet I find that I must. I have loved you for nearly as long as I've known you. You could do far better than me, but I can't help but want you for myself."

Eleanor's breath hitched at his confession. He'd loved her for years? She'd only just discovered the feelings herself, though when she reflected back, she could see that perhaps she had loved him all along as well.

"This is quite a dilemma, Mr. Ambrose."

He laughed, a deep rich sound. "Miss Westbury, I think we may use our given names at such an intimate moment."

"August." She tried the sound of it and found it much to her liking. "And you must call me Eleanor."

He grasped her hands and held them in between his own. "Eleanor, I love you and pledge my heart to you."

The warmth of his hands spread through her until she felt lit up inside. "August, I love you, as well. "

He leaned down and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. He pulled back just long enough to loop her arms around his neck and draw her closer. He angled his head to deepen the kiss and settled his hands on her hips. When he released her, she was breathless.

"More, please."

He laughed again, warmly. "I promise you more of everything you desire, love. But first, I must ask you a question."

Eleanor waited for the question, though she couldn't imagine what would be so important as to delay the delicious kissing.

Without warning, Ambrose sunk to his knees in front of her. He took her hands again and looked up at her, eyes shining with love.

"Eleanor, will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

"Oh!" This was most unexpected. "But we agreed we don't want marriage."

His expression shifted to worry. "Yes, I was adamant, as were you. But I have realized something these past few days. I did not dread marriage as much as allowing a stranger into my life. You are my best friend and I want to spend every day together, as husband and wife.

"What about my father?"

"I should have asked his permission first, but I shall rectify that immediately."

"He depends on me. I can't leave him."

"You will not need to. We are neighbors. We will visit every day and hire a companion for him. We can eat dinner with him every evening. Whatever you desire."

Ambrose's reassurances painted a picture that sounded quite lovely. To have the company of Ambrose and to be a wife, perhaps a mother, and still be available to her father's needs was something she'd not thought possible. Until now.

"Yes, I will accept your proposal. I would be honored to be your wife."

Ambrose's face lit up with a grin. He stood to wrap his arms around her and kissed her soundly.

"We will build a wonderful life together."

And Eleanor couldn't wait for their new life to begin.