He smiled. "Darling, I can tell you want to shout in glee, so please, feel free."

Francesca grinned. "When?" she asked eagerly. "I mean, should we actually elope? I know we had decided against it- and Mama would never forgive me. Or we could have a very small ceremony, just with family. What do you think?"

He tipped up her chin. "I hate coming between you and your father, Francesca," he said quietly. "I know you adore Andrew. I hate forcing you to make a choice between him and myself."

Her smile vanished. "Calder, it's too late. I have already made that choice-I have already chosen you-and I am not retracting it."

He pulled her close. "If I were selfless and n.o.ble, I would back off, find patience and somehow persuade your father to our cause. But I am not selfless or n.o.ble and I am savagely glad that you have chosen a life with me. I only hope you will never have any regrets."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. "Calder, I intend to bring the brunt of the entire family to bear on Papa. I will be very surprised if he does not cave in. He is no match for me, Mama and Connie, not when we unite against him."

"No man could be a match for the three of you," he said wryly. "He loves you. And he also respects your intellect. Perhaps he will come around before the fact, and not after it."

"He will," she said with genuine confidence. "I am sure of it. I will begin planning the wedding tomorrow, if that is all right with you. I will speak with Mama and Connie and we will decide on a date. I still prefer June."

He nodded with a smile. "That is fine."

She knew he had something else on his mind. "Calder?"

"There's something I want to say," he said, very seriously now.

She froze, and then her heart leaped with excitement. She nodded, filled with antic.i.p.ation.

Would he finally tell her that he loved her? She crossed her fingers behind her back.

"Please."

He clasped her shoulders, smiling a little. His eyes had become impossibly tender. "The moment I first met you, I knew you were the most unique woman I had ever encountered."

She began to smile and opened her mouth to comment.

He touched a finger to her lips. "Let me speak."

She nodded, biting down hard to restrain herself.

His navy eyes, flecked with gold, wandered over her face. "I knew that the bluestocking had

an amazing intellect, the sleuth more courage and determination than any one individual had a right to bear, and the romantic more hope and faith than any one man could possibly deserve. I knew you were as eccentric as myself, if not more so. And I knew that all of these aliases shielded a woman of extreme pa.s.sion. I knew all of this, Francesca, immediately, and shortly after, I knew you were the right woman for me." He smiled a little at her. "I knew, somehow, thoroughly and completely, that we would suit beyond all expectation."

She was finding it difficult to breathe. Was Hart really admitting all of this?

"But there was one thing I did not know," he said softly, cupping her face in his hands. His eyes were shining with emotion-with tears.

"What?" she managed to say, her heart beating madly. Her own emotion seemed to be choking her.

"I didn't know that I was falling in love with you," he said, his gaze holding hers.

She couldn't speak. Tears welled in her eyes, as well, and with them, there was more love than any woman could possibly feel.

He made a harsh sound. His eyes continuing to shine from the depth of his emotion he pulled her against his chest. "Francesca, I am smitten," he whispered.

She held him hard, closing her eyes, overcome with so much love and so much joy. "So am I," she said.

end.