“But her name isn’t ‘Cynthia Louise,’” he finished.
Her fingers fell limply against the keys, bleating out a discordant jumble into the preternatural stillness of the ballroom.
She snatched her hands from the ivory and jerked her gaze toward his.
He stepped onto the dais.
She stared at him.
When he reached the pianoforte, he knelt on one knee beside her.
She tried to breathe.
“Cynthia Louise Finch,” he said softly. “I chooseyou.”
She definitely couldn’t breathe.
“There is only one rule that matters.” He took her hands in his. “My life means nothing without you in it.”
She almost toppled from the bench.
“I botched the proposal the first time.” His warm thumbs stroked her trembling hands. “I pray it’s not too late to prove to you how much you mean to me.”
“Your reputation,” she stammered.
“Does not matter as much to me as you do.”
“But propriety...” Her pulse fluttered so fast, her heart felt like a bird struggling against its cage. “The beau monde’s rules and expectations...”
“Can take a flying leap from a snowy mountain.” His eyes held hers.
She felt dizzy. Could he really mean it?
“Before,” he said, “I was scared of losing my reputation. Now, the only thing that frightens me is the thought of losing you.”
She gripped his hands tight and pressed them to her bosom.
“Miss Finch is... stealing Christmas!” came the disgruntled harrumph of a chaperone.
“You can have Christmas,” the duke called over his shoulder. His eyes met Cynthia’s. “Miss Finch has my heart.”
He pulled her to her feet and kept her hands in his.
“I’m scared too,” she admitted. “What if I can’t be what you want me to be?”
“I want you to be you,” he said. “And I warn you, this means being burdened withme.”
There would be no escaping Polite Society.
Alexander was a duke, and she would be a duchess, and their heirs would be lords and ladies. Cynthia would not only have to abide bysomerules, but also teach them to her children.
Not to smother them with expectations, but to give them tools to make wise decisions for themselves.
“I can try my best,” she told him. “But I won’t be perfect.”
“I hope I won’t be, either.” He gave her a crooked smile. “I thought we might meet somewhere in the middle.”
“I would like that very much.”
