The Problem Child (Emerson Pass Historicals 4)

Dressed in my finest suit,I knocked at the front door of the Barnes estate. Seconds later, Cymbeline opened it and ushered me into the foyer. “I’m so glad to see you.” She looked around to make sure no one was watching and put her arms around my neck and give me a lingering kiss. “Papa told me the news about your promotion. I’m so very proud of you.”

“I’m glad you are. I’m sure they’ve made a terrible mistake.”

“I do hope you’re kidding. You’re the perfect one to take over. Papa said so.”

“I appreciate his confidence in me. I’ll do my best.”

“You always do,” Cym said.

I stood back to take her in. What a sight she was, wearing a light blue dress made from chiffon with a matching scarf that she’d wrapped around her curls. A touch of rouge and lipstick brightened her face. All in all, she reminded me of a perfect spring day. She smelled of the flowers that dotted the hillsides in the first warm months of the year. “You look and smell like a May afternoon. The prettiest day of the year.”

“You look fine yourself, Mr. Olofsson.” She tugged on the lapels of my black suit. “We’re having roast beef for dinner. Papa said it would be a celebration for your new position.”

“This is very kind of him,” I said. “There’s another reason I’m here.”

“Besides seeing me?” Cym asked.

“I’m going to ask him for your hand tonight.”

Her mouth dropped open, and for one terrifying second I thought she was going to tell me not to do it. However, a split second later her face lit up with obvious joy. She took both my hands and gave me a searching look as if I had a secret I hadn’t told her. “Viktor, are you sure you really want to marry me?”

“Yes. It’s all I want. I wanted his permission before I asked you.”

Her eyes widened. “What if he says no? I’d never thought about it until just now.”

“Do you think that’s a possibility?” My heart sank. Why would she ask unless she was worried? No, it couldn’t be. He’d offered me the bank job. If I was good enough for that, wasn’t I good enough for Cym?

“Not because he won’t want you in the family,” she whispered. “Because of me. He knows how I am. He might think I’ll ruin your life. That’s what Flynn thinks, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what he said.”

“I knew it. He said something about me the other night at the club, didn’t he?”

I looked at the ceiling, avoiding her peering eyes for a moment to gather myself. “It doesn’t matter what he thinks. I love you.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. She stepped backward, staring at me. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Cymbeline Barnes. You know I do.”

“But it’s the first time you said the words.” She waved her hands in front of her eyes. “I didn’t think it would sound quite so large.” She elongated the word large and opened and closed her hands in a way that reminded me of butterfly wings.

“Large?” I asked, laughing. “What does that mean?”

She tapped her chest. “Large. Profound. I felt it in here. In my actual heart. The blood pumped a little harder. How is it that a man like you—Viktor Olofsson, town hero, handsome, talented, and smart—loves me? Me—Cymbeline Barnes—sassy, opinionated, troublemaking me. You. Actually. Love. Me.”

I laughed and pulled her to me. “I didn’t think that was an unknown.”

“Say it again before we go inside to see the others.”

“I love you,” I whispered in her ear. “More than you could ever know.”

“I love you,” she whispered back, then pulled away slightly to look up at me with sparkling eyes. “It’s love, isn’t it?”

“Is what?” My entire body hummed with happiness. I was intoxicated with her. So much so, I could hardly follow her.

“My adventure. Everyone’s adventure. It takes the most courage of all. The most strength.”

“Not for me. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well, that’s just you now, isn’t it?” She straightened my tie. “Come on. The family’s waiting.”

I deflated some, remembering the task at hand. “Would you tell him I’m here and ready for our talk?”

She kissed me. “Yes, silly. But you have nothing to worry about.”

I leaned against the door, heart beating fast, as she scampered off to fetch her father. As many times as I’d been here, this time felt different. The light in the foyer was dim and cast shadows about the walls. From here, I could see the stairs that led up to the bedrooms. These were the spaces that had helped make Cymbeline. I could almost hear the echo of her little-girl voice between the walls. The same voice I’d heard on the very first day I’d gone to school. I’d been afraid to attend school and had begged Mother to let me stay and help at the shop. “Send Isak,” I’d said. “He can learn how to be an American for all of us.”

My mother had had none of that. She’d told me they needed both of us to read and write in English. To be American. Educated and ambitious. “To own businesses someday. Not back-bending ones like your father,” she’d said in Norwegian.

I closed my eyes, remembering that first day. Pretty Miss Cooper had welcomed us as we were, no matter if we spoke English or how long we’d been in America. She promised us all that we’d learn to read and write and do numbers. I’d loved school from the first moment. Academics had come easily to me, as had making friends. I’d been blessed with some of the best ones.

And then there was Cymbeline Barnes. She’d always been just out of reach, either challenging me to a race or tossing her saucy curls at my attempts to become her friend. Now, though? She loved me. She’d finally caught up to me.

Please, God, let me be worthy of her. Please have Lord Barnes say yes.

I was about to ask him for such a huge gift. He would have to trust me to take one of the most precious aspects of his life and make sure she was well cared for and loved.

Lord Barnes appeared in the foyer. Wearing his formal dinner attire, he looked even more intimidating than he had at the bank earlier.

“Viktor, nice to see you, lad. Come sit with me in the study. You look like you could use a drink.”

“Yes, sir.”

He had me sit in one of the armchairs while he poured us both a whiskey. After handing me a glass, he sat next to me. “What brings you here?”

“You invited me to dinner. It was tonight?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Yes, it was tonight. I mean, what brings you here to my study?”

“Oh, right.” I cleared my throat and took a tentative sip of the drink. “I’d like your permission and blessing to ask Cymbeline to marry me. I’d like to ask her on Thanksgiving Day, as she’s what I’m most thankful for this year and all the ones to come. That is, if you say yes and she says yes.”

“I see.” He looked into the fire and swirled the whiskey in his glass.