In a daze, Charlotte left the Courteland estate. She was so focused on scanning the street for potential hackney cabs that at first she didn’t even register the smart black barouche at the end of the walk, with its beautiful open carriage and gorgeous matched horses.

That was, until her husband leaped down from his perch to swing her into a sweeping kiss.

“Anthony?” She gazed up at him breathlessly. “What are you doing with a barouche?”

“Celebrating!” He swung her up and into the carriage. “Borrowed it for the rest of the afternoon.”

She blinked in surprise. “Celebrating? But I haven’t even told you—”

“Not the Courtelands. I don’t care a fig what those uppity matrons think you’re worth.” He pulled himself up onto the seat beside her and kissed the tip of her nose. “I know your true value. You’re worth everything. And I’d like to prove it to you.”

“To prove… what?” she stammered in surprise.

Rather than reply, he shook the reins and set the carriage in motion.

She laughed in delight as the wind fluttered her bonnet and chapped her cheeks. Until this past week, she’d never ridden in a conveyance more prestigious than a humble hackney cab. And even that wasn’t a privilege she took for granted.

She’d thought the baroness’s fine coach-and-four would be the pinnacle of her elegant travel memories, but this—this! The sun on her face, the wind in her hair, the warmth of her husband at her side as the horses clopped smartly into Mayfair and down Upper Grosvenor Street.

When an expansive, bustling garden appeared at the end, she turned to her husband in wonder. He had remembered her childhood dream.

“Hyde Park?” She clasped her hands to her chest and laughed in pure joy. “We’re going riding in Hyde Park?”

“Where else does a gentleman take a lady?”

Before she could remind him she was nothing of the sort, they were already inside the park and entering the legendary cavalcade known as the Ring. She tamped down her bonnet to hide her face.

Fashionable people filled the park. Charlotte’s eager eyes could scarcely drink it all in. Dashing gentlemen in splendid driving clothes. Elegant ladies in sumptuous day dresses, eye-catching feathers, glorious spencers. Even the liveried servants were the very picture of impeccable taste and unparalleled style.

She tried to stare everywhere all at once. “How many people are here?”

“A thousand, perhaps.” Anthony grinned at her obvious delight. “It’s mid-afternoon. By six, there will barely be room to move and you will be begging me to leave at once due to your boredom with it all.”

“Ha!” She smacked his elbow. Now that she was Mrs. Fairfax, the wife of a town gentleman, she would never beg him to leave. This experience was thrilling. She hoped to stay until they were the very last carriage left on the graveled path. As long as she stayed out of sight, she could almost pretend she belonged.

To her surprise, Anthony pulled the barouche to a stop at the inner edge of the Ring and leaped out to the grass below.

“Anthony,” she hissed as she gripped the side of the barouche to stare down at him in consternation. A few of the fine ladies and gentlemen with painted crests on their carriages gave them curious glances as they passed. She tried to avoid eye contact with them. “What are you doing?”

“Charlotte Fairfax,” he called out loud as he dropped to one knee amidst the crowd. “We may have wed by accident, but our marriage is no mistake. You are the love of my life and I would do it all over again. In fact, I’d like to.” He gazed up at her and raised his voice even louder. “Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage, in a proper ceremony before God, with both our families present?”

She gripped the edge of the barouche even tighter as tears pricked her throat. Blast the romantic man. He’d brought her amongst the crème de la crème in London… to choose her.

“I love you, Charlotte Fairfax. I love your quick mind and your big heart.” He cocked his head and pretended to think. “I even love the snorts you make in your sleep and the way you have no sympathy whatsoever for the stains ruining another pair of my breeches right before your eyes.”

She burst out laughing and reached out to him. So what if the smart set were watching? Let them witness the treasure Charlotte had discovered. The man she would spend forever with.

“I love you, Anthony Fairfax. I choose you of my own free will. I love the way you make me laugh and keep me safe. There is no one else with whom I would prefer to be accidentally wed. I shall be proud to call myself your wife for the rest of our lives.”

With a grin, he sprang back into the carriage and brought her fingers to his lips. “I’d kiss you until you gasped for air, but such behavior is considered scandalous amongst this crowd. Perhaps I can tempt you into returning to the townhouse?”

“I’ve a better idea.” She pulled the folded bequest from her reticule and handed the document to Anthony. “How about we find a townhouse to rent and celebrate somewhere private?”

He stared up from the papers in shock. “One thousand pounds? Per annum?”

She blinked at him innocently. “That should be enough to commission a bedchamber, don’t you think?”

“If not, there’s always the Kitty and Cock Inn,” he suggested with a wink.

“Mmm,” she murmured as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I did enjoy the Cock Inn.”

“The lady’s wish is my command.” He snapped the reins to set the horses in motion.

Charlotte giggled, then looped her arm through his and smiled in farewell at the sea of fashionable people blurring by. She no longer yearned to be part of their world.

She had everything she needed right there.