“I am afraid we don’t know anyone else getting married any time soon. At least not that I can think of right now. Most of our friends are already married.”
Amelia didn’t appear bothered by that. “We could always go to weddings for people we don’t know.”
“That’s not the way it works, usually,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
He imagined dressing up in wedding finery with Amelia and crashing weddings of people he didn’t know, simply for the fun of it. The idea made him smile as he twirled his daughter past his parents on the dance floor. Margaret and Henry looked perfectly matched, as always.
The music ended at that moment and his father dropped his arms from his wife. “I believe I would like to cut in, if you don’t mind,” he said to Ian. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to dance with my granddaughter. Though I must say, she looks entirely too grown up tonight. When did you become such a lovely young lady?”
Amelia giggled, clearly pleased. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Stop growing,” her grandfather ordered. Unfortunately, for all Lord Henry’s influence and power in certain sectors, he held no sway when it came to the inevitable progression of time.
Soon enough, Ian would be the father of the bride at Amelia’s wedding. He stood watching his daughter whirl off with his father, a little bereft to think about her one day dancing with her own bridegroom.
His mother cleared her throat and he realized with some dismay that she was waiting for him to do the polite thing and ask her to dance since her partner had just deserted her.
“Mother, would you like to dance?” he said instantly.
“You don’t have to do that,” Margaret said, eyes twinkling. “Especially since I imagine there’s someone else here you would rather be taking out onto the dance floor.”
Ian felt his cheeks heat and had to force himself not to look for Samantha, whom he could see on the periphery of his vision still dancing with his son and apparently enjoying herself immensely.
“You are the only one I want to dance with at this moment,” he said chivalrously, though he earned only a disbelieving harrumph in return.
His mother didn’t move with the grace he remembered from his youth, afflicted with arthritis that she never complained about. She needed a knee replacement but had been postponing it for months.
He didn’t like thinking about either of his parents growing older, any more than he wanted to think about Amelia some day marrying some nameless, faceless man who had best treat her right.
“It’s been an unforgettable day, hasn’t it?” Margaret said softly.
This time he couldn’t help his gaze from shifting to Samantha. She was still dancing with Thomas and was laughing at something his son was saying. The lights strung around the lawn lit up her features like a Raphael Madonna.
His chest tightened and he stumbled a little, missing her already.
“She is delightful,” Margaret said softly, following his gaze.
“Yes. I agree.” Ian did his best to keep any emotion out of his voice and expression, though he had a feeling it would do him no good. His mother always had an uncanny knack for mind reading, often before he had figured out his own thoughts.
“What are your plans after next week?” Margaret asked, giving him a searching look. “I assume you’ll stay in touch with her.”
Yes, his mother knew him entirely too well. What could she see in his expression? Could she tell he was in love with Samantha?
He stopped dancing altogether as the truth of it poured over him like water gushing from Bridal Veil Falls.
Love.
He couldn’t be in love. He had only known her a few short weeks. Infatuation, maybe. Certainly lust. But love?
The more he thought of it, though, the more he realized that was the only possible explanation for everything in his heart and his mind. This tenderness was far more than infatuation and lust.
He was in love with her.
Somehow during his short time in Haven Point, Samantha Fremont had become infinitely dear to him.
He loved her smile, her talent, the sweetness she showed his children. He had come to cherish a hundred things about her.
The realization should have filled him with joy. Instead, he ached at the impossibility of it.
“After next week, the children and I are packing up the Oxford place and moving to Summerhill, where I plan to throw myself into helping Father and learning everything there is to know about the earldom.”
A twinge of pain tightened her features and he regretted his flat tone immediately. His parents knew well that he had never wanted to be heir. He didn’t need to remind them of it, like a petulant child who couldn’t have the toy he wanted in the market.
“What about Samantha?” his mother pressed.
Something else he couldn’t have. “What about her?” he asked, this time careful to keep his expression free of the torment stirring beneath the surface.
“Are you making plans to visit her again? I’ve heard fall is a beautiful time here at the lake. Or will you invite her to visit Dorset once you’re settled?”
He could clearly picture how wonderful either of those things might be. He would love to show her the river Amherst, his childhood swimming hole, the picturesque village near the estate that reminded him a great deal of Haven Point.
He could imagine showing her the kissing bridge over the stream at Summerhill, the Roman ruins nearby, the hills he and David used to hike.
He also knew he could do none of those things.
“What would be the point?” he asked, his voice brusque.
She stared at him, clearly astonished at his tone and his words. “The point? The point is she’s a wonderful woman. You have feelings for her and should see where they lead.”
He didn’t want to talk about this right now and certainly not with his mother. He wanted to go somewhere alone, somewhere near the water, where he could try to process the tumultuous shock of realizing he loved
