Page 54 of The Dare Before Christmas

Eighteen jars later, however, the bucket was almost full, and she only had two of the earthenware jars left. These had seemed the most likely to her, for they were impossible to see through, and so she’d instinctively left them until last. With her heart beating very fast, she peeled off the wax seal, spooning through the dark, sticky mixture. Nothing.

“Drat,” she muttered, before turning her attention to the remaining jar. “Well, then. It must be you.”

“Victoria! Torie, love? Are you here?”

Victoria jumped at the sound of Barnaby’s voice. For a moment she considered keeping quiet and pretending she hadn’t heard him, but that was cowardly, and he had helped her find this place, and the jam. No matter what happened between them now, he deserved to be a part of her discovery, assuming there really was anything to discover and she wasn’t completely addled.

“I’m here,” she called, just as his wonderfully familiar face appeared through the opening.

“I knew it!” He laughed before crawling through on his hands and knees, no doubt ruining another pair of trousers. “What on earth are you doing?”

Victoria looked around at the empty jars and the bucket brimming with centuries-old jam.

“Looking for treasure,” she said, feeling a bit silly… but no, she had every reason to believe the treasure was here. Still, she wondered if he would laugh at her.

“In the jam?” he asked, surprised but not mocking.

“Well, they must have hidden it for a reason, Barnaby. Nobody hides jam, no matter how good it is, and Evie said Mrs Payne sent her the daughters here when soldiers broke into the house, and that among their supplies of food and provisions they stored here for emergencies, there were books and paints.”

“The daughters hid the treasure in the jam and painted the panel to keep it secure!” Barnaby exclaimed. “And you figured it out. Well, by Jove! That’s dashed clever, Victoria.”

Torie brightened, smiling at him. “Well, I thought so, but now there’s only one jar left. Here, do you want to open it? Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Barnaby moved closer, sitting on the floor of the room, cross-legged beside her. He shook his head. “No, love. This is your adventure, your discovery. If there’s treasure to be found, you should be the one to find it. Besides,” he added, his expression growing soft. “I already found my treasure.”

Victoria’s heart gave an uneven thud in her chest as she stared at him. Though it hurt her to do it, a sorrowful, deep ache began in her heart and radiated outwards, and she knew she must stop this. She shook her head. “It’s all right, Barnaby. I know you don’t want to marry me, not really. I won’t hold you to it. I couldn’t bear to make you unhappy, and I know you would—”

The words she had steeled herself to say to him were cut short as Barnaby pressed his mouth to hers. Victoria sighed, longing and regret surging through her like a winter tide.

“I’m not such a bad bargain as I thought I was, Torie, love,” he whispered, breaking the kiss. “There’s so much that’s happened since yesterday. In fact, since the moment I arrived here, my life has been turned upside down and inside out.”

“I’m sorry,” she said at once, only for Barnaby to silence her with another kiss.

“I’m not. I’m not the least bit sorry. I’m only sorry that I underestimated you. I ought not to have done that. To have compared you with Lady Millicent and what happened with her was wrong and foolish, and I need to apologise to you for that.”

“You do?” Victoria said, a little dazed and not entirely sure what was happening.

“I do,” Barnaby agreed. “And there’s something else I need to do. In usual circumstances I would think this is the worst possible time for me to do such a thing, but this is not the usual circumstances, for you are a very unusual woman, Lady Victoria Adolphus, and somehow, I think you’ll enjoy this more than a moonlit night and roses.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Torie said, and then gasped as Barnaby shifted, kneeling before her and taking one hand.

“You really ought to be standing, but we’ll make our own rules, won’t we, love? Because you are my love, my dearest Victoria, and I was a fool to fight it when the truth of it was staring me in the face.”

“Oh.” Victoria pressed her sticky hand to her madly beating heart. “Barnaby, are you quite certain? You’re not just saying that because you think you ought to, because you’re being kind?”

“I’m certain,” he said, his dear face filled with sincerity, his eyes shining with an expression that made her throat tight with emotion. “I’m certain that I love you, that I want to be with you. And, as your father was so very kind as to give me his blessing, I’d like to ask you, dearest Torie, if you would do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?”

Victoria gave a little yip of joy and threw herself at Barnaby, kissing him soundly and overbalancing him so thoroughly that they both fell, sprawled over the dusty floor. When she finally let him up for air, Barnaby gave a breathless laugh.

“Might I take that as a yes?”

“Yes! Yes, please! Oh, most definitely, yes!”

Barnaby pushed back her hair, which was falling around her face as she stared down at him. “Can we marry quickly, love? Do you mind?”

She shook her head. “The sooner the better.”

He grinned at her. “Just as well, as I think Louis’ staff are gossiping about us. I believe our, er, little indiscretion has become the talk of the servants’ hall.”