Chapter 8

Sylvie took Kit's hand and climbed up into the old gig that he'd hauled out especially to drive her to the Harvest Festival. The day was overcast but dry for a change, so she'd planned to walk. But when Kit realized she'd be carrying the cake she'd baked in his kitchen earlier that day, he'd insisted on driving her. Grandmère and Grandpère had gone on ahead, smiling at her then at each other when she said she'd arrive with Kit a little later.

Kit clambered up onto the seat beside her, dressed in one of his finer tailcoats for the occasion, and took up the reins. "Ready?"

She nodded and the conveyance jerked into motion. Unfortunately, their conversation remained at a stand still. What did one say to the man who couldn't tell you he loved you in so many words, but did everything in his power to show you?

Nothing, apparently. But perhaps she could do a little showing of her own.

His hands were occupied driving and hers held the cake, but she slid closer to him on the seat so their arms and thighs were pressed lightly together. He glanced at her and grinned, and his body visibly relaxed.

When they arrived at the festival, Kit helped her down and kissed the back of her hand. "Go prepare and start letting people know. I'll see to the horse and find your grandparents."

She almost kissed him then, but now that they were in public they had to abide by the rules of propriety. Instead Sylvie squeezed his hand. "Excellent. I'll meet you near the musicians."

She skirted the festival grounds with her cake, covered with a kitchen towel to disguise its true contents, until she reached the area where a group of local musicians had arranged themselves. They had left room for dancing, though at the moment there were only a few small children bouncing around in approximate time to the music.

As promised, a small table had been placed there for her with a borrowed linen tablecloth folded atop it. She set the cake down carefully beside the table and spread the cloth across it, aligning each of the four embroidered clusters of wildflowers with the four corners of the table. The cake she placed at the center, but left it wrapped in its towel.

"What's all this, Miss Devereaux?"

Sylvie turned to see Mr. Norris, who lived just a few miles away from Broadstone, gesturing to the table. "This is a surprise for my grandparents—we're going to celebrate their golden wedding anniversary today."

"Oh, lovely! Can I do anything to help?"

"Yes," she said with a wide smile. "Can you help me spread the word? I'd like everyone to meet here. After the Duke of Alston makes his speech, we'll congratulate them and have some music. But my grandparents mustn't find out."

Mr. Norris gave her a little salute and headed off. Sylvie surveyed the table, gave the musicians a nod, then headed off herself to the flower sellers. The offerings were meager this year and her purse was light, but she managed to put together a modest bouquet of late-blooming pink peonies interspersed with stalks of dried lavender for her grandmother and a smaller peony for her grandfather's buttonhole.

"Aren't the flowers lovely, Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux?" came Kit's voice from some distance.

Sylvie turned hurriedly toward the sound and spotted him trying to steer Grandmère and Grandpère toward the animals. She flashed him a smile and darted in the opposite direction, talking the long way round to return to her cake, hoping she'd escaped unseen.

Finally, as the sun began to set, the Duke of Alston arrived in his grand carriage with his wife and son. He was the predominant landowner in this part of Kent, and he or one of his family had welcomed people to the Harvest Festival for as long as there had been one. Sylvie wondered momentarily at the man's health, as he needed to be helped from his carriage and was slowly escorted to the musicians' box by Her Grace and a sturdy footman.

The crowd began to gather around, and Sylvie searched the multitude of faces for Kit and her grandparents.

"There you are," came Grandpère's voice from behind her. "I was starting to suspect that Christopher was deliberately leading us away from you."

"Nonsense," Sylvie replied, trying to keep a straight face. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know, but it certainly feels like he did."

Grandpère led Grandmère to one side of Sylvie, and Kit took up a position on her other side, brushing his fingers against hers.

His Grace made his welcome speech with a surprisingly strong voice, thanking everyone in attendance for all the hard work they put in this year even though the unusual weather had overwhelmed so many fields. He urged them to leave off their worries for one night and to enjoy the festival.

The assemblage applauded and Sylvie assumed the duke would take his leave, but he waited for the applause to die down and added one more thing. "I believe there is also a golden wedding anniversary to celebrate this night. Miss Devereaux? Are you ready?"

Sylvie's heart pounded and her eyes must have been as round as coins, but Kit's hand found hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "How's that for an introduction?" he whispered.

She squeezed back and made her way through the crowd, curtsying before the duke and allowing him to bow over her hand. "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Tell your grandparents I hope they have many more happy years together."

"I will."

The duke gestured for the duchess and footman, and allowed himself to be escorted away. Sylvie stood watching him for a long moment, wondering how on earth he'd found out about the anniversary.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the festival goers and smiled brightly. "His Grace is correct—my grandparents, Monsieur and Madame Devereaux, are celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary today. I hope you'll join me in congratulating them on so many wonderful years together."

Kit parted the crowd for her grandparents, gesturing for them to stand beside her near the musicians' box. Sylvie presented them with the flowers and unveiled the cake, brimming over with happiness for the two people that had raised her.

"One more thing," she said, looking to the musicians and giving them a nod. "Will you lead off the dancing?"

They looked at each other as the musicians tuned their instruments.

"Will you do me the honor?" Grandpère asked, offering her his hand.

Grandmère grinned. "It will be my pleasure."

Other couples joined in when the music began, but Sylvie hung back to just watch them enjoying the moment.

Kit found her, slipping an arm around her. "They look like they're having fun."

She leaned against him and sighed. "Good. That was the plan."

"Would you like to dance?" he asked softly.

She took his hand in both of hers and drew his arm more securely around her waist. "I'd rather stay here," she replied. "With you."

Such an intimate pose was highly improper in public, but Sylvie didn't care. For once she was going to do what the Duke of Alston had suggested—forget her worries and enjoy the evening.

~*~

The last note of music died away in the moonlight, and the dancers began to go their separate ways. Kit sat off to one side watching them. Some left as soon as the music stopped, some took a moment to say their goodbyes, and some lingered together as if they were reluctant to part.

Sylvie had been dancing with her grandfather, laughing through the steps of a country dance that neither of them executed very well. When the music ended, they bowed and curtsied to each other, and Kit expected Mr. Devereaux to escort his granddaughter away. But instead, Sylvie came to Kit.

Alone.

"That turned out rather well, don't you think?" she asked when she reached him.

"The festival or your grandparents' anniversary?"

"Both." She sat down close beside him but didn't touch him. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

He nodded, aching to have her in his arms again but electing to remain still for the time being. "I did. I wasn't sure I wanted to come this year, but I'm glad I did."

Her gaze met his as the last of the clouds drifted away revealing a sky full of dainty, twinkling stars, and for the briefest of moments he thought she might kiss him. When she didn't, the disappointment nearly overwhelmed him.

"Are you returning home with your grandparents?" he asked.

"I think they could use some time to themselves," she responded, her smile softening. "Would you mind driving me?"

"Not at all. Shall we sit here for a while and let them get a head start?"

Sylvie twined her arm around his. "That's just what I was thinking.

Kit's heart began to pound as hard as the hammers that the builder's men had swung during his roof repair. "Good. There's actually something I'd like to speak to you about, and I think it will be easier to do if neither of us is focused on directing a pair of half-ton animals."

"Oh?"

He glanced around, noting the only people still nearby were the musicians packing up their instruments. A handful of other festival goers remained, but they were attending their own affairs. "A few days ago, you told me that you loved me."

The big full moon was bright overhead, and Sylvie's deep blush was evident. "Kit—"

"To my everlasting shame, I didn't say it back to you then," he continued, covering her hand with his. "I wanted to, and I'm still not sure why the words would not come. Because, Sylvie, I do love you."

"You do?"

Her eyebrows were raised, her head tilted slightly and he chuckled. "I would be skeptical, too, if I were you."

"No, it isn't that I don't believe you." She slid her hand down his arm and laced her fingers with his. "In fact, I know you love me. I just didn't expect you to say it."

"What do you mean you know?"

She grinned, and laid her head on his shoulder. "I knew for certain when you went to find Moses. You're a kind man, but that was more than even you would do for most people."

Kit thought back to those two days, searching wagon-loads of smelly animals crowded together, bargaining with that smug steward. "I absolutely would have done the same thing for Thomas or my mother. Maddie, too." He kissed the top of her head. "I didn't think twice about doing it for you, either."

She nodded. "I thought that when I told you I loved you that night, you'd return the sentiment. When you didn't, I suspected you either needed more time or you just weren't a man that expressed his emotions in words."

"Well, you were right," he murmured against her hair. "I needed time. I wasn't sure you were actually in love with me or just grateful I brought Moses back."

She straightened and met his eyes. "Oh, I hadn't even considered that."

"But when I gave you that rose cutting…"

Her expression turned dreamy and her body softened. "Any doubts I might have had about your feelings for me were put to rest right then."

The grounds were nearly deserted now. He released her hand and slid his arm around her, drawing her even closer to him. "Good," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "That's what I had intended."

They sat together in the moonlight for several minutes, relaxing against each other. But all too soon, Sylvie sat up and turned to face him.

"There is something else I wanted to ask you about."

"What's that?"

"A few weeks ago, you proposed marriage to me." She clasped his free hand in hers and dropped her gaze to her lap as if to gather her courage, before meeting his eyes once again. "Is that offer still available?"

Kit shook his head, but couldn't keep the grin from his face. "That proposition was for a marriage of convenience. We were going to pool our resources to pay the rent on Broadstone and repair my house, remember?"

She searched his eyes, and her grin matched his. "Then let me make you a better one. I propose a marriage based on love and partnership and trust."

"We may have to work on our communication skills a bit more," he laughed, the joy of the moment breaking over him in the most delightful waves.

"I agree," she replied, her grin widening, "So I'll be plain. I love you, Kit Mathison, and I would very much like to have you as my husband."

"I love you, Sylvie Devereaux, and I would be honored to be your husband. Will you be my wife?"

The words had rushed out of him as if they were trying to escape, not in the measured manner he had tried for. But it didn't matter. Sylvie's arms came around him and her lips brushed his ear as she whispered her answer.

"Yes."