"That's romantic but impractical."
"Then let's be practical. You keep the bakery. I'll help when you need it. The hall is open for village use but remains our private residence when we want it. We split our time between both places. You teach me to bake properly. I teach you to... actually, what can I teach you?"
"How to be a duchess?"
"That's presumptuous."
"You're the one talking about our world and never letting me go."
"Fair point. Yes, I'll teach you to be a duchess. Though honestly, you'll teach the aristocracy more than they'll teach you."
"Such as?"
"Such as how to be real. How to choose joy despite pain. How to make broken things whole."
"With icing?"
"Metaphorical icing."
"The best kind."
They finally climbed down from the platform to find the celebration in full swing. The next hour was a blur of congratulations, toasts, and good-natured jests. Mrs. Morrison was practically glowing with matchmaking success. Thomas was collecting his winnings with entrepreneurial efficiency. The vicarwas trying to look stern about public displays of affection but kept smiling.
"I should go home," Marianne finally said as the celebration began to wind down.
"Should you?"
"It's nearly two in the morning."
"That's not an answer."
"What are you asking?"
"Come to the hall with me."
"Alaric!"
"Not for... I mean, unless... What I mean is, I want to show you something."
"At two in the morning?"
"It's important."
"More important than sleep?"
"More important than anything."
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. "All right. But if this is another big gesture..."
"It's not. It's something small. Something true."
They walked through the snowy streets, hand in hand now with no pretense of mere neighborliness. The village was quiet, most people having gone home, though occasional laughter drifted from houses where private celebrations continued.
The hall was dark and cold, but Alaric led her confidently through the rooms to the library, where he lit a fire and several lamps.
"What did you want to show me?" Marianne asked, looking around at the book-lined walls.
He pulled out a leather journal from a shelf. "This."
