I slept badly.
Not because I regretted the proposal. Regret would have been simpler. The problem was that sometime after midnight my brain began supplying every possible version of Caelum’s response, most of them involving laughter or me being escorted from Greyhaven for finally proving I was as foolish as he had once accused me of being.
By breakfast, I had decided I no longer cared.
That lasted until Grace placed a plate in front of me and said, “He wants to see you.”
I nearly dropped my fork.
“Who?”
Her expression was innocent. “The gardener.”
I gave her a look.
“Caelum. His study. Nine o’clock.”
I checked the kitchen clock.
8:57.
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“Did he look angry?”
“He often looks angry before breakfast.”
“It’s after breakfast.”
“Then you’re on your own.”
I le
