God help her, she loved him too.
Had been fighting it for weeks, had tried to convince herself it was merely attraction or gratitude or the natural result of working so closely together. But standing here with his hands cradling her face, with his eyes looking at her like she was something precious?—
She could not lie to herself anymore.
"I am terrified," she whispered.
"I know," Gregory said.
"I do not know how to do this. How to be vulnerable. How to trust that you will not?—"
"I know," he said again.
"But I want to try." The words emerged in a rush. "I want to be brave enough to try. Because you are right—I am falling in love with you too. And that terrifies me more than anything I have ever felt. But the thought of pushing you away, of living the rest of my life wondering what might have been if I had been brave enough—that terrifies me more."
Gregory's eyes widened. "Anthea?—"
She kissed him.
Not tentatively this time. Not uncertain. But with all the emotion she had been trying so desperately to contain—fear and hope and desire and love all tangled together into something overwhelming and wonderful and completely terrifying.
Gregory made a sound low in his throat and kissed her back with a fervor that stole her breath. His arms came around her, pullingher close, and Anthea went willingly. Let herself melt into him, let herself feel without thinking, without analyzing, without protecting herself.
The kiss deepened. Shifted. Became something urgent and desperate and utterly consuming.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Gregory rested his forehead against hers.
"I am sure you have kissed many women before," Anthea said breathlessly.
"I have," Gregory admitted, his voice rough. "But none as beautiful as you." He kissed her again, softer this time but no less intense. "And none that was mine."
The possessive note in his voice should have alarmed her. Should have triggered every warning bell she had carefully constructed. Instead, it sent heat flooding through her veins.
"Yours," she repeated, testing the word.
"Mine," Gregory confirmed. "If you will have me. If you can be brave enough to take this risk with me."
"I do not feel very brave," Anthea admitted.
"You are the bravest person I know," Gregory said. "You just survived a house party full of theton'smost judgmental members. You defended your sisters against a cruel stepmother. You married a grumpy soldier with no social skills and somehow managed to make him seem almost civilized."
Despite everything, Anthea laughed. "Almost civilized?"
"I have my limits," Gregory said solemnly. Then, more seriously, "I love you, Anthea. And I will spend the rest of our lives proving that you can trust me with your heart."
"That is a very large promise," Anthea said.
"I am aware," Gregory replied. "I have never been particularly good at doing things halfway."
He kissed her again, and Anthea let herself sink into it. Let herself believe, just for this moment, that perhaps happy endings were possible after all.
They returned to the house separately—Anthea first, Gregory following a quarter hour later. It would not do for the guests to see them emerging from the woods together, flushed and disheveled and obviously having been doing more than simply walking.
The final evening of the house party was a relaxed affair. No formal entertainment, just pleasant conversation and good food. The guests were tired but satisfied, already making plans to depart the following morning.
Anthea was helping organize after-dinner drinks when Veronica appeared at her elbow, practically vibrating with suppressed excitement.
"Anthea," she whispered urgently. "Might I speak with you? Privately?"
