Somewhat to her surprise, he held Patrick’s gaze unflinchingly. “Yes.”
For a second, her uncle stared back, then she realized he was fighting to straighten his lips.
He raised his glass and, from behind it, said, “Well, you don’t lack for confidence. I’ll give you that.”
Gregory inclined his head. “Be that as it may, after the events of today, I feel that stating my case point by point would be superfluous. What you saw today is what I would offer your niece—a place by my side, the same one she already fills to remarkable effect, and a future here, as the lady of Bellamy Hall. A future in which her many talents are appreciated and valued and where respect and, most importantly, deep affection will always be hers.”
He paused, then continued, “Over the past months, I’ve realized that what’s here at Bellamy Hall”—his gesture encompassed all that surrounded them—“is unique and precious.” His gaze rested steadily on her uncle’s face. “And as I told you today, entirely truthfully, I would lay it all in the scales if that was the price for keeping Caitlin safe.”
The simple unadorned statement of what she meant to him and the sincerity in his voice resonated inside Caitlin, and emotion rose to clog her throat.
She drew in a tight breath and looked at her uncle. She got the impression he wished he could argue, but after several fraught seconds, his gaze flicked to her.
“What say you, niece?”
She studied him, then looked at Gregory and, matching his honesty, simply said, “My heart lies here.”
The warmth in his gaze would have melted stone.
She looked back at her uncle. “When he offers for my hand, I will accept.”
His brows beetling, Patrick stared at her.
Calmly, she looked back and said nothing more.
She trusted Gregory’s judgment; if he said Patrick had seen enough to judge his qualities, then there was no need to further elaborate. From what she’d learned of Gregory’s actions in commanding the denizens of the Hall and orchestrating her rescue, his leadership abilities, understated though those often were, had shone, and Patrick, of all men, would have seen and appreciated that and approved. He also knew her well enough to understand that her own straightforward words hid feelings that were as deep as they were powerful.
Eventually, still studying her, he said, “I suppose I always knew this day would come—feared it, too—but at least you’ve chosen wisely.” He looked at Gregory and inclined his head. “You have my permission.”
Caitlin locked her eyes with Gregory’s and smiled as widely as he did. They’d just cleared the biggest hurdle between them and their desired future, and how ironic that the ease with which they’d managed that was due, in large part, to that fiend, Ecton.
However, they weren’t over the rough ground yet.
She drew in a breath and refocused on her uncle. “We’ll live here, of course. At least for the most part.” For clarity’s sake, she rephrased, “Bellamy Hall will be our primary residence.”
Patrick frowned, then, somewhat to her surprise, reluctantly nodded. “Aye.” His blue eyes met hers. “I’ve seen and heard enough of how the people here regard you—how they look to you, and you, in turn, manage them.” Approval tinged his gaze as he went on, “You’ve built something here—crafted a position for yourself—that would have been difficult if not impossible for you to accomplish at Benbeoch. And I can see it suits you—that it gives you something you need.”
When she allowed her surprise to show, Patrick humphed. “You positively glow with happiness, girl.” More sadly, he said, “You’ve never looked like that at home.”
As she stared at her uncle, taking in the emotion that lay beneath those words, her perspective shifted a critical degree, and with sudden clarity, she saw—and appreciated—what he’d actually tried to do for her.
He hadn’t understood that she’d had other ideas, so his “what was best for her” hadn’t been what she’d wanted or needed. But his intentions had always stemmed from the right source. Like his sons, like her fiancé-to-be, in his own way, he’d been trying his best to protect her and give her the best in life.
As understanding poured through her, she smiled, then glanced at Gregory. “I expect we’ll visit Benbeoch Manor for several weeks each year.”
He nodded. “Undoubtedly.”
Patrick huffed. “Just as well. Eventually, you’ll need to take on the management of the estate from me.”
Gregory inclined his head. “That will be an honor.”
Caitlin’s heart warmed, and judging by her uncle’s expression, his heart softened further.
But then his gaze shifted to his three older sons, and his features hardened. Perhaps it was the insight she’d just gained into what drove her sometimes—ofttimes—irritatingly dictatorial uncle, but behind the harshness in his face, she saw a mix of worry and concern.
Deciding that leaving them—four men—to negotiate the minefield between them would lead to disaster, she elected to confront the issue directly. Looking at her cousins, she asked, “Now you’ve spent some time here, what do you three want to do?”With your liveswas implied.
Rory looked at his father and met his blue gaze. “I’ve found a good place here. I’ve made friends and met people I like working with, and I’m well on the way to establishing a business of my own. And then there’s Millie, if she’ll have me, but we’ve a way to go before we get to that point.” With rocklike certainty, he told his father, “You don’t need me at the manor. It never was our home—for us lads, that was in Glasgow and is long behind all of us now. But I’ve found my place here, and it suits me.” He glanced at Caitlin and Gregory. “If these two will have me, I’ll stay.”
