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It was so quiet in the room, it seemed as if everyone held their breath. Only the scribbling of the journalist’s pencil against paper interrupted the silence.

And the loud beat of her heart because Preston, who had spent months trying to destroy her papa, had asked publicly for his forgiveness.

But there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she loved him. Her heart sang like that opera singer and soared and did reels.

He accepted his fault.

He chose love.

He chose her.

There was just one thing to say.

“I will.”

Preston grinned, releasing a loud, shaky exhale. The sight of his smile was enough to make her head spin. He was so gorgeous when he smiled, he became the man she always saw hiding deep inside, under the layers of pride, stubbornness, and cold indifference.

As Penelope pulled him up to stand in front of her, gazing into his eyes, the room erupted in happy gasps and exclamations. She craved to kiss Preston, to have him take her into his arms, to hide her face against his chest and inhale his scent, which she’d missed for the past four days.

But they couldn’t do it so publicly. They couldn’t give the gossip mill even more fodder. They both knew it. His eyes engulfed her, so dark and deep and open. There were no more barriers between them, no more hesitations, resentments, or secrets.

There was just love. He was hers and she was completely and irrevocably his.

He took her hands in his and kissed them, never breaking their gaze.

“I love you,” he said quietly, just to her.

“And I love you,” she said just as quietly, sinking in his onyx eyes.

She felt like she was so light she could float and soar, as weightless as a feather.

“May I take you home now?” he asked. “I’d like very much to undress you and make love to you. I missed you. Everything was wrong in my life without you.”

“Which home, Preston?” she asked.

“Newdale Place. Not all the rooms are ready as I wanted you to decorate them as you wish. But I assure you, the most important room is ready. The bedroom.”

Newdale Place…that warm, wonderful house she could make her own. Their own. Without the shadow of the past or resentment or anger or secrets. With a space for her studio and plenty of room for children and one bedroom for Preston and her.

Her smile grew broader. “Let us leave, please, or we’ll give The Society another scandal to talk about.”

He offered her his elbow, and as she hooked her hand through it, jolts of pleasant warmth spread through her as their bodies touched. She was ready. So ready for their future. For a lifetime of happiness with the man she loved and who loved her.

As they walked together, she was still unable to break away from his gaze, unable to stop smiling.

But a cough sounded next to them, and they stopped.

It was Papa.

* * *

Lord Beckett stood with his hands behind his back, watching Preston with a strange, intent expression. “Before you leave, a word, Duke, please? In private, Penelope dearest, if you don’t mind. I think we have had quiet enough of public declarations.” He threw a frown at Mr. Springer. “I’m afraid you’ve given the newspaper enough material to write for a year.”

Mr. Springer kept scribbling, throwing quick glances at Penelope and Preston. Preston thought Lord Beckett was right. The rest of the guests dissipated around the room, talking excitedly, casting curious looks at Preston and Penelope and Lord Beckett.

The last thing Preston wanted was to delay his reunion with his wife. She loved him. She accepted him. He felt like fireworks kept bursting right in the middle of his chest. He was the happiest man alive.

He looked at her, but there was no sadness in her eyes, just love and joy shining through. “Go, Preston. I’m only glad you and Papa can talk like family now. We have all the time in the world.”