She eyed him skeptically. “Grovel, Hugo.”
“I am yours.”
“Grovel some more. I like this version of ye.”
A flicker of a smile spread across his face. He knew he had her then.
“I am on my knees, Elspeth,” he said as he knelt before her. “I am not too proud to beg.”
She let out a soft laugh, the sound a beautiful, fragile thing that filled his heart with joy.
She stepped forward, closing the space between them. “I love ye, ye bloody idiot,” she whispered. “And aye, I will be yer wife.”
“Really? Do you forgive me?”
“Aye. I think a part of me has always wanted to be yer wife, since I saw ye from a distance in the gardens of Inverhall, me dress covered in mud as me eyes met yers. I cannae explain it. It feels funny to say it out loud.”
“I think I felt it too. I do not know what it means, and this is very new to me, but I am happy to learn. To let you be your own person. There is just one place you must relinquish all control to me, Elspeth.”
“And where is that, Hugo?”
Hugo rose to his feet and pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her waist. He took her lips in a kiss that was both a promise and a prayer.
Elspeth pressed her chest against his, to which he could only moan.
“I think I could get used to this,” he said, slipping his tongue in her mouth. “I was powerless against you from the start.”
“Aye, I think that is true. But there is just one question. Where will we live, man of many homes?”
“Wherever my Duchess would like.” Hugo lowered his lips to her ear and tugged on the lobe gently. “Just say the word.”
“Home is where you are. I say we spend the rest of our lives goin’ between them all, livin’ life to the fullest, livin’ our dreams.”
“You are my dream come true, Elspeth.”
“The carriage is ready, Your Grace,” a footman announced from the door.
Hugo’s head spun as he tried to slow his racing heart. “We are going out, Elspeth,” he said, his voice husky. “A celebration.”
“A celebration of what?” Elspeth asked, her voice laced with amusement.
“Our future. And my glorious groveling. I want to take you to the finest restaurant in London. I will be spoiling you from this day forward.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a question or a command?”
“A humble request, my love. One I hope you will oblige me by accepting.” He offered her his arm with a flourish. “I had planned this even before tossing Middleby out on his pompous arse.”
Elspeth smiled, a genuine, joyful curve of her lips that made his heart swell. She took his arm, and they descended the grand staircase, leaving Arrowfell.
The carriage ride was a blur of cobbled streets and flickering gaslight. Elspeth rested her head on his shoulder, and he felt a profound sense of peace.
This is it.
It was the life he had always longed for, but never dared to hope for.
They arrived at the restaurant, a grand, bustling place calledThe Imperial Tableau, the name etched in gold above the heavy oak doors. A liveried doorman bowed low as they entered.
“Your Grace,” he greeted. “We are most grateful that you will be dining with us this evening.”
