Aria hugged him and never wanted to let go. “Daddy, you look so young and healthy.”
“What? What are all the tears, Aria?” he inquired gently, studying her.
“It’s just…I’m happy to see you up and around.”
“Hmm?” He gave her a confused look, then slipped it to Gray.
Gray gave him a little bow. “I’m Gray. Grayson Barrington.”
“The Marquess of Dartmouth in Devon, England,” Aria added as she had for her mother.
Mr. Darling grinned at him and held out his hand. Gray looked at the offering and then offered his hand, as well.
“What brings you to our fair city, my lord?” her father asked, still smiling.
“Your daughter, Sir.”
He and Aria explained how they met at an audition and danced together. Gray had returned home but he missed Aria too much to stay away.
“It sounds like you might want to marry my little girl.”
“Daddy!” Aria’s soft laughter drifted like a siren’s song across Gray’s ears.
“Yes.” Gray said, smiling at her like a fool before he grew serious again. “I intended on asking you for your blessing.”
“Let’s go home and talk about it with my wife,” her father suggested. They agreed and turned back for theapartment.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, love.”
“I’m so happy to see you well.” She looped her arm through his and walked with him.
Her father gave her a soft chuckle and then smiled at Gray. “If you ever have children, pray for a daughter.”
Gray nodded, having seen glimpses of a girl child with flaming red curls falling around her cherubic face. “I will, Sir.”
“That’s good. So, Marquess, you love my daughter?”
Smile intact, in fact, Gray thought he just might not ever stop smiling, he answered, “Yes, I love her.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aria stood bythe counter in the apartment she grew up in. The coffee she waited for began to perk. She looked at the people sitting at the kitchen table laughing together and thought she could die right now and be happy. Her parents were restored and delightfully ordinary. Her marquess sat among them, transformed into a friendly, easy-going, cheerful man. Her brother had his legs back! She wanted to throw her head back and laugh and cry.
Gray’s charm worked on everyone in the family, that is, after he refused to get into the building elevator until he’d climbed eight flights of stairs and realized he couldn’t make the other nine. Water—hot or cold—from the faucet kept him perplexed for a quarter of an hour. The refrigerator, lights, and everything else they didn’t have in the eighteenth century captured his attention. By the time they sat down for dinner, he gave all his attention to her parents and laughter resounded throughout the night.
Now, he looked up and caught Aria’s eye. The amused smile he was aiming at her mother changed into something that misted his eyes and then crinkled his nose until one eye closed, as if he was winking.
Aria’s heart melted over her ribs.
“What puts such a smile on your beautiful face?” he asked, leaving the table to go to her.
Gray’s deep, husky voice resonated through her and made her sigh dreamily when she looked at him.
“You,” she answered. “You seem to be a hit with my parents,” she told him while he took her hand in his.
“A hit?” he asked with a furrow in his brow.