Page 72 of It's a British Christmas

She just buried her father.

Even though she held his hand when he passed, and took care of all the funeral arrangements, it didn’t seem real to her. Mama was still sick but had insisted on attending the funeral. Halfway through the service she had to be brought back home.

Eve had no idea what they would do next. Once the bishop was notified of Papa’s death, a new pastor would be assigned to the church and she and Mama would be homeless.

She had no choice. Although her heart still belonged to Adam, she had to be practical and accept one of the young men who had been stopping by since her return from Manchester to ask after her welfare and request a chance to walk out with her.

It was only a matter of time when one of them proposed and with her mother to care for, she would accept. In a minute she would have to get up and see to Mother. For now she would just sit and ponder.

On her life.

On her future.

The sound of horse’s hooves drew her attention to the window in the front parlor. She stood, her mouth agape, certain she was seeing things.

His Grace, the Duke of Manchester came to an abrupt halt, jumped from his horse, strode the few steps to the front door and pounded. “Eve!”

Snapping out of her trance, she hopped up and opened the door. “Adam. What are you doing here?”

He stepped over the portal and took her into his arms. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness for being such an arse and to ask you once again. Will you marry me?”

Too shocked to even think of an answer she stepped back. “Come in.”

He removed his hat. “How are your parents?”

She walked to the parlor and took a seat on the worn settee. “Papa passed away two days ago. His funeral was this morning.”

Adam sat alongside her and took her hands in his. “I’m so sorry. Did the doctor see him?”

She nodded. “Yes. He told me from the start that his case was bad and he didn’t have a great deal of faith in him recovering.”

He squeezed her hand. “What about your mother?”

“She has recovered but remains weak.”

“Marry me, Eve.”

She pulled her hands free and sighed. “Nothing has changed. I still don’t belong in your world.”

“Then we will make a new world. One that encompasses yours and mine.” He raised his hand as she opened her mouth. “No. Listen to me. I agree, being a duchess is a challenge. However, my mother has sworn to take you under her wing and make sure you do not fail.”

“Adam. . .”

“And—we will spend the rest of the winter at Manchester Park where Mother can tutor you. By spring when the next Season begins, you will be ready to take your place in society.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you. I know you love me, and I cannot imagine the rest of my life if you are not in it.” He slid to one knee. “Miss Evelyn Allen, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife? My duchess? The mother of my children?”

“Say yes, Eve.” Mother’s weak voice came from the doorway where she leaned against the frame.

“Mother! What are you doing out of bed?” Eve hurried to her side, taking her arm to move her to the closest chair.

“I am trying to keep my stubborn daughter from making the biggest mistake of her life.” She reached up and cupped her cheek. “Eve, love in a marriage can overcome many trials. It’s obvious despite your differences, the two of you belong together. I never thought I would say that since I also felt that there were simply too many obstacles to overcome. But losing your father made me realize the depth of love we shared will sustain me for the rest of my life on this earth.” She looked over at Adam. “Don’t let her get away.”

“I won’t. Believe me I intend to stay camped out on your front doorstep until she says yes.”

Eve looked between her mother and the man she loved. “When did I lose control of making my own choices?”