Garrett offered the scowling Sir Reginald a sharp salute, knowing he irritated the man beyond reason.
It’s most difficult to lose her affection now, isn’t it?
“Julia!” Garrett yelled, and she whirled around, following Sir Reginald’s gaze with wide eyes. “I have an announcement to make, and it concerns you.”
“Stop. What are you doing?” he thought he heard her say, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Please!” His voice boomed, and a hush settled over the place. All eyes focused on him. Even the Duke of Stratford awaited his next word.
Satisfied they would be quiet, he launched into his speech. “Lady Renwick, I came to your home earlier today to ask if I may court you, and you turned me down.”
The surprised gasp rang through the room, and he nodded. Yes, indeed, she should feel silly. Her reddened cheeks suggested she was furiously embarrassed.
But he didn’t care. Instead he forged on.
“You turned down my suit because you don’t believe yourself worthy to be the Countess of Bedingfield, and while I appreciate the gesture, I’m afraid I’m going to have to prove you wrong.”
He paused and met Julia’s gaze once more. She quickly shook her head, as if she could convince him to stop talking, and he merely shot her a grin.
“You see, Lady Renwick, I believe you are most worthy of being my countess, and I hope that someday soon I can make my greatest wish come true—to make you my wife.”
Another gasp, this one filled with more high-pitched feminine voices, and with those words, he devastated the majority of the debutantes from this season and seasons past.
“Lady Renwick, Julia, would you do me the honor of agreeing to become my wife?”
Silence awaited him, and he stood there, suspended in time as they stared at each other. He gripped the edge of the balcony so tightly that his fingers ached. Sir Reginald had already stepped back, as if realizing he infringed on Garrett’s territory.
“Well?” he prompted.
“Bedingfield, I—” she swallowed and pressed her lips together, “—I don’t know what to say.”
He pushed away from the balcony and ran toward the stairwell, flew down the stairs and into the ballroom. The guests parted as he rushed toward Julia, who stood in the center of the dance floor alone, so beautiful the sight of her so close made his heart ache.
“Say yes.” He stopped just in front of her and gripped her ice-cold, trembling hands, rubbing them with his fingers, wanting to offer her warmth, comfort.
Love.
“Say yes, my love.” He knelt before her on one knee. “I love you, Julia. And I want you to be my wife. My countess. Please.”
She gazed down at him, her eyes brimming with tears that she blinked away. Wispy tendrils spilling about her face, she nodded and murmured, “Yes.”
Garrett stood and drew her into his arms, crushing her against him as everyone roared their approval. The gossips would be going on about this scene nonstop tomorrow, of that he had no doubt. They’d question when he and Julia had found the time to get to know each other, and ask, Wasn’t this proposal awfully quick?
It was, but it didn’t matter. He’d known Julia for years. The moment he’d touched her, kissed her, pushed inside her, he knew she was the one.
And he desperately wanted to make her his.
Forever.
Julia absorbed Garrett’s heat and strength as he held her close. The yelling crowd jostling around them, their offers of congratulations, and the orchestra started up a celebratory song.
But none of it mattered. Not when she stood within Garrett’s embrace and heard his strong heartbeat beneath her ear. Not when she knew he wanted her to be his wife, his countess.
Not the Countess of Bedingfield, but his countess. He’d made the distinct difference to appeal to her.
And it had worked.
He loved her. She’d turned him away, even though it broke her heart, and he’d still come for her. Declared his intentions and his love for her in front of everyone. She couldn’t believe it.