“Fletcher.” Morry had appeared without James having noticed his approach. Miss Bainesworth stood next to him.
He snapped out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry, Morry. I have to go.” Remembering his manners at the last minute, he bowed. “Miss Bainesworth.”
He walked with resolute steps across the ballroom, exiting through the vestibule. There, he pushed countercurrent to the crowds who were climbing the stairs. He would pack a small portmanteau and leave for Liège tonight—he would not put it off, already calculating that there would be enough money from his clients at the baths today to hire a carriage and go after her. A few heads turned to look at him, brows raised, as he slid past the curve of the stairwell, pressing against the railing.
“I do apologize. Pardon me.” He reached the bottom, looking around for where the servant had been collecting hats and canes. That was when he heard it.
“James!”
He recognized that voice! James looked around wildly to see where it had come from, and his gaze shot up to the top of the stairs.
“James,” she called again.
He could hardly credit his eyes. Amy was not in Liège; she was here! In Waux-Hall, looking down at him and smiling openly, happily, the way she used to. He was too rooted in surprise to take a step, but she murmured something to her family and turned to descend the stairwell. Her family continued into the vestibule, leaving her to extend the same apologies to the crowds as she squeezed next to the railing. He stood at the bottom to receive her, and as soon as she reached the last step, grabbed her hand and led her past the statue of Minerva. He would not let her go this time.
“Were you leaving?” she asked as she hurried alongside him.
He led her through a door into the first empty room he found. Its purpose was not entirely clear and was furnished with little more than sofas, chairs, and scant artwork on the walls. He turned to face her.
“I was going after you. I thought you had left. Youhadleft. I visited your rooms and your housekeeper told me.” His breath came quickly as he laughed softly from the ridiculous joy and relief that went through him. “I had decided to go after you and was just leaving for Liège.”
“Were you?” Amy sent him a pleased smile. “We did leave and went to Franchimont. Then my father thought it best to stop for refreshments, which we did at an inn. And there a most surprising thing happened. Only think! Mr. Lambert and Miss Prexley had taken the private room there. I think ... I can only surmise they have run off together, I am sorry to say.”
James gave her hands a squeeze, keeping his hold on them. “The news is already out, unfortunately. But I want to hear about you. What caused you to turn back?”
“Marianne did not want to continue our journey, for we overheard them say they would go to Liège. So Papa decided we would come back to Spa. I received your letter,” she said, her eyes twinkling. He had noticed the necklace. It was as perfect on her as he had always thought it would be. “You wasted no time in sending your first one.”
“I could no longer wait.” A couple walked by the doorway, looking at them curiously, and James pulled her farther into the room, where they could not be seen. At the moment, he did not care about propriety. He put his hands on her waist, holding her firmly as though to keep her in place.
“I was going to beg your father to accept my suit in Liège, although my case is not a convincing one.” He could not hide his chagrin. “It goes against the grain with me, but I fear we will have to liveverysimply before my baths have started earning. I promise you theywillearn, but I do not want to wait until they do before marrying you.” He furrowed his brow. “I had never thought to see myself a fortune hunter.”
“And I had not thought to wish to marry a fortune hunter.” She smiled, a light kindling in her eyes that he had not seen inmany years. “As far as I am concerned, my dowry is yours to use if it is the means of keeping us together.”
“As far as it depends on me, I plan to keep your dowry untouched. I only hope your father might trust me to make my future well so I might care for you.” His throat grew thick with emotion. “Amy, I cannot lose you. Not again. My life has no ... no spark in it when you are not here.”
She rested her hands on his arms, looking up at him. “I do not want to lose you either.”
“Then allow me to address you properly.” James took one step back and slid down on one knee, holding her hands in his. “Miss Amy Bridwell, will you do me the immense honor of becoming my wife, my partner, my companion for this life? Even if it means living humbly as a physician’s wife in a small town on the Continent for the foreseeable future?”
The seconds it took to accomplish this formality extended as he considered its form. He looked up to see her smiling at him and spotted the twinkle in her eyes. “I, uh, am aware that I have not presented the most attractive arguments to convince you to say yes.” His mouth quirked. “I should have taken up law.”
Amy gave a soft laugh, her eyes shining. “Do stand, James.”
He did so, and she gazed at him with what he felt in his bones was love steeped with fondness—love that would forgive the man who had hurt her so many years ago. Love that would see the best in him now when he had nothing of value to offer her apart from himself. He waited, breathless, for her to relieve him of the agony of suspense.
“How can any woman refuse such an offer when you put it in those terms?” She laughed, a delighted laugh. “Yes, James. I will marry you, no matter where you live or what you do.”
Outside the room, sounds echoed in the hall as streams of people went up the stairwell. The bustle of humanity filled every corner of Waux-Hall—every corner but theirs.
Flush with emotions in which victory, relief, and joy meldedtogether, James took Amy in his arms again, his fingers on the stiff silk covering her corset, her broad skirts brushing against his thighs. He pulled her close, inhaling her light floral scent and soaking in the sight of her eyes meeting his. He leaned down to kiss her in the shadows of their private sanctuary with every other thought at flight but one: How could he have been so lucky as to win her back?
He could not say. Perhaps Cupid had still been busy on his behalf.
Epilogue
After a period of one month, Amy became Mrs. Fletcher in a quiet ceremony in Spa. They were surrounded by her family, the Vroomens, and the Ferrins. George and Becky Moreau had married only a fortnight earlier, and as they had given up any notion of travel in favor of a quiet week spent in one of the nearby hamlets, they returned to Spa in time to join the wedding festivities. Also in attendance were the Princess Orlova and her children—a fact which caused Amy’s standing in society to rise and with it, James’s. He asked Amy whether she would wish to travel after their wedding, but she only shook her head and said she had done more than enough traveling to be content for a while.
The surprise guest at the wedding was James’s mother, who had arrived in Spa one week before the ceremony. He had been sitting with Amy and her sisters, having tea at Waux-Hall, which opened for breakfast after the ritual of drinking the waters. As this was directly on the route from the Sauvenière, Mr. Prexley and the other investors of La Redoute had argued against it, yet their concerns fell on deaf ears.Les bobelinswere too charmed by the elegant rooms of Waux-Hall and demanded more of it.
