St. Clare smoothed a strand of hair back from her temple. “That depends. Will Sir Roderick keep his word? Will he make Fred consent to our marriage?”

“He’s the only one who ever could. The only authority Fred’s ever recognized.”

“Which means…”

Tears sprang into her eyes. “Beasley Park will remain mine.”

He gathered her close. “I thought it didn’t matter?”

“It doesn’t. Not if I must choose between you. But if I don’t have to choose…” She encircled his neck in a fierce embrace. “Oh, I should so very much like to have everything.”

He smiled against her cheek. “Of course you would.”

“And not just for myself.” She drew back to meet his gaze. “Aren’t you even going to look at your mother’s marriage lines?”

“I don’t need to look.”

Her brows knit. “You don’t believe they’re real, do you? You think it’s just another yarn your grandfather has spun to serve his own ends?”

“It very likely is.”

“And what if it isn’t?” She slid her hands down the front of his waistcoat, searching for the folded paper he’d tucked into his pocket. When she found it, she pulled it free. “Here. Look at it, and tell me it isn’t real.”

He grudgingly unfolded the paper and read the swirling, uneven script. The writing was long faded, darker in some places than others. As if it truly had been written decades ago. His pulse accelerated against his will, against all rational thought.

Was it possible?

Could it really be true?

He swallowed hard. “It can’t be.”

“Why can’t it?” she asked. “Don’t you want everything, too? The title. The Beresford name. Me.” She stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Be greedy,” she said. “I intend to be.”

He stared down at her, his heart thumping heavily. A rare trace of vulnerability deepened his voice. “You’re already so much more than I deserve.”

Eyes shining, she reached up to frame his face, cradling his jaw in the silken curve of her small hands. “What has deserve got to do with anything? Do you think I deserve you? That I deserve any of this? But it’s mine. You’re mine. And tomorrow, my love, we’re going to take that special license Lord Allendale procured and you and I are going to get married.”

A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “Is that so?”

“It is. Unless you have something else planned?”

His smile broadened. “Not a thing.” He bent his head to hers, his beautiful blue-eyed hellion. And love surged within him. The same love that had led him back here like a beacon, guiding his way home. Not to a place, but to her. Back to her side where he belonged. Where he’d always belonged. “Tomorrow is yours,” he vowed. “All of my tomorrows.”