“I mean it.” She pressed his hand. “A black-hearted villain would never have gone into the sea to rescue me. Not if it meant destroying all of his plans with a marriageable young heiress.”

He looked down at her hand, curled safely in his. “Yes, well… This particular black-hearted villain wasn’t thinking entirely clearly at the time.”

“And now you mean to marry me, though you must know that you could easily find another wealthy lady to wed.”

His gaze lifted to hers. “I daresay I could. There’s only one problem.”

“Which is?”

“She wouldn’t be you.”

Her heart turned over.

“Will you marry me, Laura?” he asked. “Will you consent to be my wife?”

A humid breeze stirred the roses on the arbor. Their sweet perfume drifted in the morning air. A fragrant promise for the future, or so Laura thought. A promise not just for her, but for Teddy and Aunt Charlotte, too. They were going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right. All she had to do was say yes.

And so, she did.

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

A spasm of emotion crossed over Alex’s face. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared—a tiny crack in the mask he always wore. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “You honor me.”

Laura could think of no reply. Speech seemed wholly inadequate—unnecessary too. After only an instant, he released her hand. The moment had passed.

“Here, I have something for you.” He once again reached into his pocket. “Another reason I traveled to London. I keep one or two valuables in care of a bank there.” He produced a small cylindrical box bound in red morocco leather. “This is one of them.”

Laura hadn’t much experience with fashionable jewel cases, but she recognized one when she saw it. She took it from him with trembling fingers and very slowly opened the hinged lid.

Her breath stopped in her chest.

Inside the box, settled on a bed of velvet, was a single flawless ruby set in a band of antique gold.

Her eyes flew to his. “Is this—?”

“A betrothal ring. A wedding band. Whatever you wish to call it.” He removed it from the box. “I believe it will fit you. If not, I can send it out to a jeweler.” He took her hand again, and slipped the ring onto her third finger. It caught briefly on her knuckle before sliding firmly home. “There. Perfect.”

She stared down at her hand. The ruby smoldered with liquid fire, as red as a drop of blood against her pale skin. It seemed significant somehow. Far too significant a ring for a mere marriage of convenience. “It looks very old.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I do. Very much. But…where did you get it? Is it a family heirloom of some kind?”