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“Not ten minutes after he put it there for safe keeping.”
He laughed at that, big and delighted. “I imagine he didn’t like that.”
“I imagine he didn’t,” she said. “But he did not raise a cutpurse queen for nothing.”
He opened the letter, reading it... remembering it. Reminding himself that he’d lived up to his father’s expectations for him. That Jack had, too—happily married to Lady Helene, and already a father.
Adelaide reached for him, setting her fingers on his arm as he stared down at the paper.
“Happy anniversary, my love,” she whispered. “Here is to the future that we might together call ours.”
“Yes,” he said, looking up at her. “Together.”
“Together,” she whispered, before nodding at thefolder. “You’ve another thing to find.” He followed her instructions, lifting the second slip of paper from within. “That one is yours to keep.”
Henry looked down and read the text, his heart pounding wildly in his chest:
The Duke of Clayborn makes a perfect match.
Signed, The Matchbreaker
Henry looked up, pleasure flooding him even as year-old frustration thrummed through him. He found her watching him, searching his gaze. In hers, he found a collection of emotions. “You intended to give me this... and leave?”
She nodded. “I thought you might decide to seek out love if you knew how... perfect you were.”
“Adelaide.” He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. “Don’t you see, I never would have sought love beyond you. There was no one else. There never would be. Love... I am not perfect. I am only perfectwith you.” He kissed her again. “Christ, I love you... beyond reason.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not true. There are a dozen reasons. A hundred of them.”
She smiled, pure happiness. “Are there?”
“Shall I enumerate them?” He returned his attention to her neck, pressing kisses down her throat as he pulled her into his lap and began his list... a list that could have gone on for another year... another fifty. “Your brilliant mind... your quick wit... the way you pick a lock, drive a carriage, wield a dossier... The way you terrify the men of Mayfair and make the girls of Lambeth proud... Your beautiful eyes... your stunning hair...”
“Mmm,” she said, her arms twining around his neck. “All excellent reasons.”
“You’re mine, Adelaide Frampton,” he whispered at her ear, low and dark like a gift. “As someone once said to me, he who finds, keeps.”
“Mmm,” she said, threading her fingers through his soft, lovely hair. “ButIfoundyou, if you’ll remember.”
He kissed the smile from her lips until she sighed her pleasure and said, “Alright then. You found me... butI’mkeeping you...”
Any argument she might have had was lost in another kiss. And another. And another...
