Nathaniel smiled faintly. “He thought we would get along.”
Clarissa turned to her father. “You tried to arrange a business merger with your daughter?”
Arthur coughed. “A dinner. One dinner.”
Nathaniel continued, “You never showed up. You had run off to marry Julian that morning.”
Clarissa stared at him.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
Not politely.
Not softly.
A real laugh, bright and stunned, spilling out of her until Mrs. Martha began laughing too.
“So you were my almost-date?” Clarissa said.
Nathaniel bowed slightly. “Tragically abandoned.”
“And now?”
His eyes warmed.
“Now I am a man asking whether, after your speech, you might have dinner with me. No mergers. No expectations. No empires attached.”
Clarissa’s smile faded into something tender.
For years, love had meant shrinking.
Now it stood before her and asked for nothing but a chance.
“Yes,” she said. “Dinner.”
Arthur whispered, “Finally.”
Clarissa pointed at him. “Do not celebrate yet.”
