The words she had flung at him in anger earlier returned to her. Heavens, she had quite forgotten. She regretted them now. How must it have looked for him to enter a ballroom to see her at the side of another man? Certainly, she and Dorset were nothing but platonic friends. Not that Dorset had not hinted at more in the past. However, she had no interest in any man save one.
“Is that what you think of me, that I have come here this evening to find a lover?” she asked softly, careful to keep her voice from traveling.
“Have you?” His tone was even, but his jaw remained rigid.
As if the fate of the very world rested upon her next answer.
“Of course not. There is only one man I want, and that man is you.” The honesty was torn from her, and yet she would not prevaricate. The way she felt about him was real and true.
She would swallow her pride and admit it. Making love with him had meant something to her. She had been certain, so certain, that the enormity of the emotions had been shared and not just one-sided.
His stare clashed with hers. “I believe you.”
“You do?” Hope rushed forward, filling her heart.
Stupid hope. Reckless heart. It would forever beat for him, if he would but accept it once more. If he would put the past behind them and move forward into their future.
Together.
She was afraid to give voice to those thoughts, for fear of his reaction. This—the three precious words and the one massive concession he had been willing to make, was more than she could have imagined.
“I do.” His gaze traveled over her face, hungrily, or so it seemed to her. “I…trust you.”
There went her heart again, leaping. Racing fast. Galloping. Was she giving his words more importance than he intended?
“You trust me,” she repeated, trying to maintain calm, needing to be clear.
What did this mean, his trust? So precious a gift. A miracle suddenly delivered, without expectation and without warning, in the midst of a ball. She could only pray he would not rescind it.
“I do. I…” He swallowed, almost as if he was having difficulty finding the proper words. “Suddenly, this ball, this night…it puts me in mind of another ball, not so different from this one, not so very long ago. I want to have that moment again. I want to change it. To make our reunion the way it ought to have been instead of the way it was.”
Had she heard him properly? Was this a dream? Where had the icy husband of earlier that day gone?
The words left her in a rush. “I want that too.”
And she wantedhim. His love, his heart, his body, his forever. All he had to give. Everything he was willing to offer. More hope rose, buoyant and brilliant.
“I want to stand before you in a ballroom and not feel anger as I did that day. I want a chance to begin anew, as we should have done from the first. Will you give me that?”
Calm down, heart.
She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she was aware of the audience they had. Bad enough tongues were wagging over the haste of their nuptials. There was no need to shamelessly launch herself at him in the midst of the Duke of Westmorland’s ballroom.
She forced herself to maintain her composure, but it required every last modicum of control she possessed. “I would very much like to begin anew.”
“Very well then.” He swept into a deep, elegant bow, leaning hard on his walking stick as he did so. Fluid and graceful as he mastered placing most of his weight upon his good leg. “Mr. Adrian Hastings, at your service. I believe we have met before.”
She dipped into a curtsy, playing along, not caring that there were half a dozen curious pairs of eyes upon them. “We have indeed met before, though under different names and circumstances.”
“I regret perpetuating the lie. I am sorry for it. I should have been honest from the start. I should have told you when I had the opportunity. Can you forgive me?”
Yet another admission she had not expected. “Of course.”
She had already forgiven him some time ago. Doing so had been necessary for herself, to move forward with their marriage. She understood that he had been trapped in a difficult position by a terrible man, one who had wielded his influence, money, and power over the both of them for ill.
“Thank you.” He watched her, intent, looking as if he wanted to say more and yet maintaining his silence.
He was still the man prison had forced him to become. There was no denying that. But he was also the man she had fallen in love with. “You do not need to thank me, Adrian. Forgiveness is the right thing to do. If I deny it to you, how can I forgive myself for what happened? I will forever regret what happened to you, and not a day has gone by where I have not asked myself if there was not something more I could have done, some way I could have found you.”
