“Yes! Yes. A thousand times, yes.”
And she kissed him. She took his face in her hands, holding him gently between her palms while her mouth sought and devoured his. The carriage turned, tossing him to the side. He flailed and caught himself against the door, then he stood and sat again beside her, gathering her against his chest.
“Obviously, I haven’t done this in a very long time. That was not the romantic proposal you deserve. But never doubt that I love you more than my life.”
“I have no complaints whatsoever. It beats me proposing to you, and you rejecting me.”
Shame and sorrow swamped him. “I could never reject you. I only did what I thought was best for you. Perhaps you’d be better off if we hadn’t fallen in love.
She frowned. “No, I wouldn’t be. I thought you were past that foolishness.”
“You’ll be giving up a great many things for me.”
“Nothing that I value more than our love.”
“You won’t be a countess. You won’t be called ‘lady’.”
“Titles are just words. They are meaningless. Does it change me in any way? I will wear your name proudly.”
“Some of your old acquaintances might shun you.”
“You know what I discovered when I couldn’t walk? Society is quick to forget about you. During those years, Abigail was my only companion. None of my acquaintances visited or even wrote. Why bother when I didn’t have any juicy gossip to share? I’ve lived away from society for too long to miss it now.”
“But you will enter society now, for your daughter’s sake. What I’m trying to say is that it won’t all be sunshine and roses.”
“I know that. And I’m ready to face whatever may come our way. What about you? You are a very private man, but you will face scrutiny, suffer gossip, and bad-natured whispers. Can you bear that?”
He grabbed both of her hands, brought them to his mouth, planting a kiss on each. “Of course. For you, I can bear anything.”
The coach ground to a halt in front of his house, and they descended. Wang opened the door, but when she was about to walk through, he swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold. Her musical laugh lit up his soul, which had been dark and cold from the moment she left his home.
“You already carried me once over your threshold.”
“Yes, but now you are my betrothed. I will carry you over every threshold of a place we call home. Because you are my bride. My love. My forever.”
CHAPTER 23
Sunlightstreamedthroughthetall arched windows of St. Mark’s Church in-the-Bowery, casting golden hues over the worn stone floors. The scent of incense lingered faintly in the cool air, mingling with the heady aroma of fresh hothouse roses adorning the altar.
Esther stood next to Wang. They had walked down the aisle together, as she was no young girl being given away by a male relative. She was a woman. Standing by the man she was pledging to love. Her hands clasped lightly before her, holding a small bouquet, her fingers trembling—not with fear, but with an emotion far sweeter.
Her heart fluttered as she lifted her gaze to Wang’s face. His dark eyes met hers, steady and sure, filled with a quiet intensity that made warmth bloom in her chest. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, the deep charcoal fabric stark against the crisp white of his collar. He was so breathtakingly handsome that her breath caught. But it was the way he treated her. The way he hadseen her when she was all but invisible. The way he spoke to her deepest desires and understood her interior self that made her knees weaken with love for this man.
She was wearing the same dress she had worn to the ball. It was the most beautiful gown she owned, and it made her sparkle. She wanted to look her best on this day. Wanted to take his breath away. Not that it was difficult to do. He always looked at her as if she hung the moon and the stars.
The vicar cleared his throat, ready to begin the ceremony. The small congregation stirred, but she paid no attention. There were just a few attendees. Her maid, two doctors from the hospital with their wives. The vicar’s wife and their daughter.
A pang of sadness tightened her chest. Elizabeth should have been here. Her daughter, her precious girl, was waiting for her in England, blissfully unaware that her mother’s heart had found a new home. She hoped her daughter would understand. Esther and Wang had made the difficult decision to marry here, before their voyage, so that when they arrived in England, their union would be unshakable—a fait accompli.
The minister’s voice rang through the quiet church, solemn and steady. Wang’s fingers brushed hers as he took her hand, his touch warm and grounding. A soft shiver ran through her. Even now, even after everything they had shared, he still made her pulse race.
As he spoke the vows, her heart swelled with the weight of them. His voice, rich and unwavering, declared: “I take thee, Esther, to be my wedded wife…”
They were not merely words; they were a promise, an unbreakable bond.
And then it was her turn. “I, Esther Knightsbridge”—her voice wavered for only a moment before she steadied it—“ take thee, Wang Kaiwen, to be my wedded husband…”
No hesitation. No doubt. Only love. She was marrying the man she loved.
