“I argue.”
“I look forward to it.”
“I have my own mind.”
He brushed his lips against her temple. “That might be the thing I adore most.”
Her fingers trembled in his, but her voice held.
“Yes, Marcus. I will marry you.”
His breath left him, not roughly, not greedily, but in a way that told her she had just given him back his future.
He pulled her into a kiss, warm, certain, claiming without conquering. Reverent, threaded with the same teasing spark she loved.
When he drew back, he said softly, “God help me, Lilianna… you may very well undo me.”
She smiled at him, eyes bright and challenging. “Then we are even,” she said. “Because you’ve undone me already.”
Marcus laughed, a real, unguarded laugh, and kissed her again.
The sun dippedlower as lanterns glowed along the trellised edge of the lawn. Mrs. Pritchard had arranged a long sideboard beneath the terrace arches, fruit tarts, syllabub, glazed nuts, and warm cakes dusted with sugar. Guests wandered back from the gardens, joining in soft conversation as Henry and Thomas darted between adults with sticky fingers and wooden soldiers.
Richard lifted a brow the moment he saw Marcus and Lilianna return together, her hand resting openly in the crook of Marcus’s arm, his expression entirely unguarded.
Christina squeezed Richard’s arm. “I told you,” she whispered.
Mrs. Denning noticed next, her knowing smile blooming before Lilianna could look away. Mrs. Dove Lyon offered one slow, satisfied nod, as though a long-held prediction had finally ripened.
A hush fell as Marcus stepped forward, lifting a glass of wine. Lilianna stood beside him, close enough that the truth between them needed no announcement.
“May I steal a moment?” Marcus asked, his voice warm, carrying easily.
Henry, crumbs on his cheeks, clambered to the front and tugged Thomas’s sleeve. “Papa’s making a speech,” he whispered at full volume.
Laughter rippled through the guests.
Marcus shook his head, smiling despite himself. “It seems I am.”
He reached for Lilianna’s hand, deliberately, openly, and lifted it for all to see.
“When Wolfton Hall lost its light,” he began, gaze sweeping over the friends who had stood with him through his darkest months, “I believed I would walk in shadow for a long time.”
Lilianna’s fingers curled against his.
“And then,” he continued, “someone arrived who did not force the sun back, but coaxed it. Patiently. Fiercely. One bar of music at a time.”
Christina’s eyes glistened. Richard cleared his throat. Mrs. Dove Lyon smiled like a woman who had known this all along.
Marcus looked at Lilianna now.
“This morning,” he said softly, “she agreed to become my wife.”
A collective sound, delight, surprise, and affection swept the lawn.
Henry launched himself at Lilianna’s skirts. “I knew it! I knew it! Miss Edgewood, no, Miss Papa!”
Thomas grabbed him and whispered, “That’s not how names work,” which only made Henry beam harder.
