Page 81 of Rogue Lyon

She frowned at him. What was about to happen? What did he know that could be a way out of their situation?

“I…” He reached for her hand. “I want to…”

His touch was familiar and calming and she pulled in a deep breath as warmth spread on her flesh.

“I am deeply sorry for all the ways in which I have wronged you,” Jules said, looking into her eyes. “But I believe we are not just bound together by this scandal, but also by our hearts.”

“What… What do you mean?” she whispered, her heart fluttering now.

“Mrs. Dove-Lyon, in her wisdom, has shown me how to read my feelings for you. It is as though they were a language I hadn’t learned, yet now I have.”

“Your feelings for me?”

“Yes, I am happy when I am with you. I am in awe of you. You make me want to be a better man…for you.”

She said nothing. Her breathing picked up. Where was this going? She didn’t dare hope, for hope was as fragile as glass yet still, it was there. It existed.

“So please,” he said. “I wish to renew my proposal for our ongoing acquaintance and ask that you…” He dropped to one knee and looked up at her. “Would do me the very great honor of being my wife, Meredith?”

“Your wife?” The word mistress, which had been rattling around her head for days, suddenly evaporated. “But… But you’re not the marrying sort, Jules. You told me that. Everyone knows that.”

“It seems I am…if marriage is to you.” The right side of his mouth twitched, just a little, the start of an anxious smile. Rare on him but very endearing.

She tugged his hand until he stood. “Jules, I adore you, and…”

“And I love you.” He moved closer. “That is the feeling I have here.” He tapped his chest. “Love. I see it now. Know it now.”

She sighed. “And I have loved you for a long time, but…”

“How can love come with a ‘but’?” His eyes narrowed.

“But…you must promise me a few things if I am to be your wife.”

“I will promise you anything.”

“No more suspect art deals, of any kind.”

He nodded briskly. “I will try my best, though sometimes it is the only way to—”

“Mr. Habsburg,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon snapped. “Please, listen to this young woman who has wise words for you.”

Meredith pulled in a breath. “And you have to at least try to move on from all this resentment about the branch of the Habsburg dynasty your ancestors were denied. It was centuries ago. You, and your father, and your grandfather before him have made your own way, made your own great successes and wealth. Maximilian is an unhealthy obsession that must be overcome now, while you are alive.”

He pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I will do my best.”

“You must if you want me to be your wife. Ghosts from the past are not to be part of our family.”

“I do want you to be my wife. No more ghosts.” He reached for her other hand and drew both to his lips. “I want you more than anything. More than any ancestry, or titles, or pieces of art.” He paused. “I want you, Meredith, at my side. Today, tomorrow, and every day after that.”

“Oh, Jules.” Meredith’s eyes prickled with emotion. “Are you speaking the truth?” She hardly dared believe it.

“I swear on my life. I will be a husband who makes you proud, a husband who is always by your side. I will keep nothing from you.”

“Including duels at dawn?”

His mouth gaped for a second. “How do you know about…?”

Mrs. Dove-Lyon coughed exaggeratedly.