She wasn’t good enough for him.
“Um… Miss?” said Buttons.
“I told you,” Matilda said tiredly. “I don’t care what’s outside the window. Wake me up when we reach Rutland.”
But no matter how tight she closed her eyes, she could not block the memory of Titus’s face. How he’d looked, in the throes of passion. How everyone else had looked, that time he’d smiled at her in front of all and sundry on the dance floor. The soft heat of his kisses all over her body.
“Miss,” fretted Buttons. “I really think you ought to see—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, what is it? Another pretty church?” Matilda leaned forward and swung her annoyed gaze outside the window.
There, drawing alongside the carriage, was a horseman.
Not just any horseman. Titus. Riding bareback, dressed all in black, save for a familiar square white blanket tied about his neck like a cape, fluttering behind him in the wind as he spurred his horse faster.
Matilda rapped the driver’s panel frantically, then called through the hole, “Stop the horses!”
The coachman halted the horses at once.
Matilda flung open the door. She needn’t step down from the carriage to be at eye level with Titus. Astride a tall stallion, he looked magnificent. And a little bit ridiculous. The cape was a wonderful, absurdist touch, and secured in place with what looked like a diamond pin.
“Stand and deliver?” she asked archly.
“Only if you’re offering your heart,” he replied, then took a deep breath. “You already have mine.”
“Other carriages are stopping,” Buttons whispered. “People are gawking.”
Matilda batted her back toward the interior. “Shh. I don’t want to miss this.”
“When I first met you,” Titus said, “I thought being orphaned was the only thing we had in common. It quickly became clear our wounds had affected us in opposite ways. I shut down and closed off, whilst you did your best to make as many connections as possible.” His eyes held hers. “In the end, perhaps I just needed one. The right one.”
Her heart fluttered.
He carefully unfastened the stitched-together white cape from about his shoulders and held it up. “Thank you for returning my brother’s blanket. I don’t know why you had it in the first place—”
“Don’t you dare sack Augustin.”
“I will not sack Augustin. I will double Augustin’s wages. He entrusted you with my broken pieces, and you put me back together. I hadn’t wanted to let go of the blanket because I wanted to rewrite that moment. To let Oliver find comfort wherever he could. Allow my father to keep his eyes on the road. The horses, safe. My family, alive. But the moment I was trying to hold onto is long gone.”
She swallowed hard.
He tied the cape back onto his neck. “All along, the moments I should have been trying to hold onto were the ones I shared with you. I can’t get back the loved ones I lost. But I could make a bloody effort not to lose another one.”
She held her breath. Was he saying…
He continued, “I thought the best way to never again lose someone I love, was by not allowing anyone in to begin with. If I walled off my heart, I wouldn’t care when others inevitably left me. But you slipped inside and left me defenseless. I care so deeply, no walls can contain my heart. It no longer belongs to me. It belongs to you.”
Buttons was right. They were attracting an audience. More passers-by were peering at them from the street and from their carriages than were actually passing on by.
Matilda didn’t care. She could not have moved a muscle if she’d tried.
“This is a marriage proposal, by the way,” Titus added with a sheepish smile. “The one I should have given you last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. The only acceptable time frame to spend with you is forever. I’ve known it since the labyrinth. And suspected it since the moment I glimpsed you behind that potted plant.”
Someone let out a cheer, and was summarily shushed by the growing crowd.
“I want to be the one who brings you candied lemon peels,” he said softly. “I want to be the knight who saves you from spiders. I want to be whatever it is that you need, now and always. You’ve seen the worst of me. Please let me give you the best of me.”
Buttons edged forward to stage-whisper, “Milord, ask the actual question.”
