“Is there any way you can forgive me for what I’ve done?” Nicholas opened his mouth to answer, but she rushed on. “And if you can, do you think I will hurt your chances of helping the Irish?”
Nicholas narrowed an eye. “That is two questions.”
“Add it to my list of transgressions.”
“I will.” Nicholas’s hands slid from her waist to her hips, and he pulled her an inch closer. “Yes, I can forgive you. And while I’m astounded by the lengths you went to get rid of me, I must also acknowledge that I never allowed you to see me as I truly was. I was so busy trying tobeperfect, I never let you see my true self behind the facade. My family isn’t always proper. Patience lived in disguise as a maid in Ottersby’s home, for heaven’s sake. But I don’t begrudge them that. It is what brought them together. Iwas certain the way I ached for you was a fault, and I hid it. I promise you, I’ll never hide it again, even if I may need to control it at times, when we are in public.”
He spoke as if they were destined to be together, but he hadn’t answered her second question. “And the Irish?”
“I’ve learned to flaunt my rank a bit since you broke my heart. It turns out that was a much faster way of getting results than actually trying to earn people’s respect. At least with some of the less desirable members of Parliament, anyway. I disappointed my father a long time ago, and that regret has affected every decision I’ve made since. I thought by obeying every rule and only interacting within the proper constraints of Society, I would be able to control the world around me and never feel that kind of devastation again. But it didn’t work. Instead, I lost you, and that, dear Mercy, became my greatest regret.”
Mercy slid her hand to the back of Nicholas’s neck, a movement she couldn’t have imagined happening only a few moments ago. Could she truly be this fortunate? All she knew was that no story would ever live up to this one. They would have to temper it for their children; otherwise, they would become as foolishly romantic as she had been. “You haven’t lost me. Not if you still want me.”
Nicholas pressed his forehead to hers. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.” He tipped his chin until his mouth was nearly touching her own. “Except maybe to kiss you, right now. Are you willing to agree to marry me first so I can feel better about it? Or would you rather forgo that formality and have me prove to you that Society can hang for all I care?” His voice was rough and low.
“Society can hang,andI’ll marry y—”
His mouth was on hers before she finished getting the words out. She closed her eyes and took in the scent of him, the taste of his mouth on hers. He pressed forward, one hand coming to theback of her head. Her back slammed into the rough rock wall of the grotto. The air around them warmed until the chill in the air had turned to heat. The proof he’d offered in the drawing room of his desire for her paled in comparison to the fire he showed her now.
“I had so many plans for you I thought I’d have to give up on.” Nicholas’s face was still millimeters from hers.
“Really?” Mercy answered breathlessly.
“Yes. First, to kiss every single freckle across the bridge of your nose.” His eyes focused on a spot on the left side of her face, and he placed an almost reverent kiss there. “These freckles will be kissed while we are engaged.” He slid one finger down her neck and then across her collarbone. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold. “And these ones I will save for when we are married.”
“Please tell me that will be soon. Otherwise, I may be forced to call your bluff on that one.”
In answer, he kissed the other side of her nose, then slid his lips back down to her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him tighter. She breathed in his scent, cedarwood and starch. It mingled with the smell of earth and spring water from the grotto. When he finally pulled away, he traced his thumb over her cheek.
“Mercy, I’ll marry you whenever you want. I’m yours. If this was some crazy game of chess you’ve been playing, you’ve won.”
“And you thought I was terrible at chess.” Mercy pushed off the wall and then spun around and pressed Nicholas against the wall instead. Then she leaned in and brought her lips to his ear. “It looks as though I’ve won after all.” She grabbed his cravat and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Checkmate.”
Epilogue
Dancing with one’s husband wasn’tnecessarily proper. But that never stopped the Duke and Duchess of Harrington. Rumor had it, the duke had only been able to convince his wife to marry him if he learned how to dance properly.
He’d agreed.
Not long after their engagement, the whole of London had learned to give them a wide berth in the ballroom. Otherwise, the duke, who was prone to closing his eyes, might steer the two of them into other attendees.
For when the Duke and Duchess of Harrington danced together, they were lost to anyone but each other. Watching them was enough to make the young people in the room believe in fairy-tale matches and love conquering all.
The duchess, however, strongly discouraged such talk.
“True love,” she would say, “isn’t about fairy tales or magical encounters. It is about seeing someone for who they truly are and wanting to be with that person always, no matter what.”
“And kissing,” her husband would add, at which point she would narrow her eyes, rap his knuckles with her fan, and storm out of the room.
The duke would inevitably follow and prove both of them correct.
