As they prepared to leave, Sarah made one last attempt. She approached as they waited for their carriage, beautiful and desperate.
"Alaric, please reconsider. We're perfect for each other."
"No, Sarah. We're perfect on paper. Marianne and I are perfect in reality."
"She'll never fit in."
"Then I'll fit into her world instead."
"You can't mean that."
"I've never meant anything more."
Sarah looked at Marianne with pure hatred. "This isn't over."
"Yes," Marianne said firmly. "It is. You had your chance...years of chances, from what I understand. You never wanted him, just his title. I want the man who burns bread and falls off ladders and throws flour when frustrated."
"I threw flour once!" Alaric protested. "Why does everyone fixate on that?"
"It was memorable," Marianne said, taking his arm. "Good evening, Lady Sarah."
They left Sarah standing in the cold, furious and defeated.
In the carriage, Marianne finally let herself relax completely, sagging against Alaric.
"That was exhausting."
"That was brilliant. You were brilliant. You conquered London society in one evening."
"I survived London society. There's a difference."
"You made Lord Browne think about something other than roses. That's a miracle."
"I like Lord Browne. He's passionate about something real."
"Roses are real?"
"More real than most of what we discussed tonight."
"Fair point."
They were quiet for a moment, then Marianne said, "your aunt gave permission."
"She gave acceptance. Even better."
"The wedding really should be in London."
"The wedding will be wherever you want it."
"I want it in Hollingford. With the geese."
"Not the geese."
"Especially the geese. They're part of our story."
"Our story includes too many geese."
"Our story is perfect."
