‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘Family law isn’t my area. But I have friends who would be able to answer that—friends who’d be able to fight our corner if we needed help.’ He tightened his hands round hers. ‘I want to make a family with you, Mariana.’
‘That’s what I want, too,’ she said. ‘But what if we can’t?’
He took a deep breath. ‘You have a nephew. I have a niece. So we’ll still have children in our closest family. We’ll still be able to watch the next generation grow up and share their lives.’
‘Is that going to be enough for you?’ she asked.
He looked at her. ‘If I have you by my side, then yes. You’re enough for me. What about you?’
‘You’re enough for me, too,’ she said softly.
Thank God, he thought. His complications hadn’t scared her away. And hers most definitely didn’t scare him. ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ he said.
‘You won’t,’ she said.
‘I hurt you yesterday,’ he pointed out.
‘We hurt each other. I think we’re going to have to learn to manage fights a bit better and talk properly instead of me stomping off and you sulking,’ she said ruefully.
‘Agreed.’
‘But you’re not someone who hurts people for the sake of it. Remember when I broke that mug? You lifted me up and carried me away from anything that could hurt me, you brought ice to cool the burn on my hand, and you fetched my shoes so I didn’t have to rely on you carrying me anywhere because you know I value my independence. You kept me safe,’ she said. ‘And that’s why I know you won’t hurt me. That I can trust you. That I’ll keep my independence but you’ll be there when I need you.’ She swallowed hard. ‘And I hope that working with me has taught you that you can trust me. That I’ll be there when you need me.’
There when he needed her.
And he knew she would be. Just as he would be there for her.
‘You bring colour into my life,’ he said. ‘You make me see things differently. My house is all wrong. It’s not a home. There’s a difference between having clutter, the way Nonno does, and having more than blank walls. My house needs paintings. It needs you.’ He paused. ‘Not just my house. I need you. That day you took me to the National—I think that’s when I fell in love with you. Your warmth. Your brightness. It scares me to hell that you’ve made me feel things again. But I think I can be brave, with you by my side. I can reach for the happiness because, even though life won’t always be easy or simple, it’ll be there. I love you, Mariana.’
‘When you pushed me away yesterday... I hated feeling not good enough.’
‘I’m sorry I hurt you. My head was all over the place. That’s not an excuse—it’s an explanation. I love you and I didn’t know what to do about it. Whether you’d want me. Whether you could love me, too.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Of course I want you. That was the point. A fling wasn’t enough. I want you for ever—because I love you, too.’
He stood up and drew her into his arms. And finally he got to do what he’d been wanting to do since the moment she’d arrived on his doorstep. He kissed her. And it felt as if something had cracked around his heart and let the sunshine back in after a long, lonely winter.
* * *
‘Mr Beresford? It’s Jocelyn Fisher. You left a message asking us to call you about Barrington Manor,’ a plummy voice informed him later that afternoon.
‘Would you mind if I put you on speakerphone?’ he asked. ‘Mariana Thackeray needs to hear this, too.’
‘Mariana Thackeray from Hidden Treasure?’
‘Yes.’
‘How thrilling! So this is all about a painting?’
‘It is,’ Angelo confirmed, and explained about The Girl in the Window. ‘So we were rather hoping that you might have some information to fill in the gaps for us,’ he said. ‘If you have any information about Alice, we’d love to hear it.’
‘Alice’s branch of the family were pretty much wiped out—the ones who survived the Great War died in the 1918 flu epidemic,’ Jocelyn said. ‘My husband’s grandfather inherited the manor from them. His father was probably the one renovating it when your grandfather came to Barrington—the roof had a leak, and it made sense to fix it in the summer when it was more likely to be dry and you’d have longer working days. That’s why they were turning out the attic and found the painting. We sold the place twenty years ago because our children didn’t want the drag out to rural Norfolk—their lives are all in London, so we moved as well. We’ve still got fields around us, but at least now we’re only an hour from the city. We still have all the family papers, though. Would you like to see them?’