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Lady Asquith nodded. “He knew moments of doubt and failure and grief. He had looked directly at the darkness and chosen, repeatedly, over a lifetime, to face toward the light.”

“Simon,” Asquith said quietly. Not to anyone but himself.

Lenora understood. The name had now been given back to him.

Lenora took Simon’s hand. He, too, had wrestled with those demons. And he had also chosen light. He’d chosen her. And their coming child.

“I have been watching you for over a decade,” Lenora's voice was soft. “You are decent. Kind. Wonderful.” She held his gaze. “Your father's son.” She brought his injured hand to her stomach. “And you will be a very good father, too.”

“Hear, hear,” said Lady Asquith, with great feeling.

He turned to his mother. “Thank you,” he said. “For your understanding of Lenora's condition.”

“Understanding?” Lady Asquith drew herself up, looking faintly offended. “I practically arranged it.” She smoothed her skirts with considerable satisfaction. “I don't believe I've ever told you, but your father and I”—her gaze moved to his portrait and softened—“we anticipated our marriage as well. On a folly on what is now Sir Brenton's estate.”

“Mama!” Asquith exclaimed.

He’d sounded so boyishly outraged, Lenora had to cover her mouth to suppress a giggle.

“You needn't be so appalled.” Lady Asquith’s eyebrows rose. “Did you never check the dates in Debrett's?”

Lenora lost the fight and laughed.

He frowned. “You told me I was early.”

“You were,” Lady Asquith replied serenely. “As your firstborn will be.”

Simon shook his head. Then, he turned to Lenora.

“I have a confession,” he said. “My return was delayed. I held myself to the same standard I encouraged of Neville, and for the same reason. Although I knew you were waiting, I went home, washed, and changed. A man should be in reasonable form for a proposal.”

Lenora sniffed, trying desperately not to become a watering pot.

“Will you stand?” he asked.

She did. Then she held her breath as Asquith lowered himself to one knee. Across the room, Lady Asquith's fan moved very quickly.

“My darling.” He paused in the sweet way he did when he was nearly overcome.

Only she would never tell him how sweet.

“All my life,” he continued, “I have heard my mother speak of a marriage of minds—a union built on love and respect. I ask you, humbly, to enter such a union with me.”

Heart in her throat, Lenora nodded.

“If,” he said, “you love me, that is.”

Good heavens! Had she not said the words? They’d been ringing so loudly in her mind and in her heart, she thought she had.

“Oh, Simon, obviously I love you.”

He smiled and the dimple appeared.

“I have loved you with a child’s affection, with a young lady’s fever, and with the deep conviction that can only come with trust.” She reached down and lifted his injured hand to her lips, pressing a kiss against the crooked finger. “And I would be honored to be your wife.”

He rose to his feet. “Thank you.” He took her back into his arms. “You won’t be sorry.” He cradled her head in his palm. “Nora,” he said, as if testing the name.

She'd asked him to call her by the name her mother and sisters used, the name she'd mentioned only once, in the yew maze.