This perfect, scandalous, absolutely wonderful moment.
When the carriage finally rolled to a stop before the townhouse, they were dishevelled and breathless and utterly unconcerned about appearance. Tobias helped her down with exquisite care, as though she were something infinitely precious.
The moment her feet touched the pavement, he swept her into his arms.
“Tobias!” She laughed against his shoulder. “What are you?—”
“Carrying my wife over the threshold,” he said simply. “Seemed appropriate.”
Her heart swelled. “We’re not married yet.”
“A technicality.” His eyes blazed with promise. “One we’ll remedy as soon as humanly possible.”
The townhouse doors opened. Warm light spilled onto the steps. Inside waited safety and privacy and the promise of everything they’d been denied for far too long.
And as Tobias carried her across the threshold, her arms wrapped around his neck and her heart singing with impossible joy, Amelia thought that being ruined had never felt so much like being saved.
EPILOGUE
“Do stop fidgeting.”
Tobias glared at Daniel Harcourt’s reflection in the looking glass, though the effect was rather diminished by the fact that his hands refused to obey orders and continued their restless adjustment of his cravat. For the fourth time in as many minutes.
“I am not fidgeting,” he lied. “I am ensuring proper presentation.”
“You’re tying yourself into knots.” Daniel lounged against the bedpost with infuriating casualness, watching Tobias’s struggles with barely concealed amusement. “Rather symbolic, given the circumstances. Though I believe the vicar is meant to do the actual binding.”
Tobias abandoned the cravat with a muttered curse that would have made his former companions at White’s proud. The blastedthing looked worse now than when his valet had tied it an hour ago. His fingers—usually steady whether holding cards or reins—had developed an inconvenient tremor that seemed determined to advertise his inner state to anyone paying attention.
“Perhaps,” Daniel suggested with studied innocence, “you might consider breathing? I myself found that it helps prevent one from expiring before the ceremony.”
“Your assistance is invaluable as always.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Daniel’s expression softened slightly, losing some of its teasing edge. “Truly, though. Are you well? You’ve gone rather pale.”
Well? Tobias turned from the mirror, abandoning all pretence of composure. His heart hammered against his ribs with violence that surely warranted medical intervention. Every breath felt insufficient. The room had grown too warm, too small, too utterly inadequate for containing the sheer magnitude of what was about to occur.
In less than an hour, he would marry Amelia.
“I’m perfectly fine,” he managed, though his voice emerged strangled. “Why would I not be fine? It’s merely my wedding day. A simple, straightforward affair. Nothing whatsoever to inspire concern.”
Daniel’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “Simple? Straightforward? Half of London is expecting you to bolt. The other half is placing wagers on whether Lady Amelia will come to her senses before reaching the altar.”
“Comforting.”
“I prefer honest.” Daniel rose, crossing to where Tobias had begun pacing the length of his chambers like a caged wolf. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen you more certain of anything. Terrified, yes. But certain.”
The words struck true. Because beneath the nerves, beneath the fear that he might somehow prove unworthy of the gift being offered, lived absolute conviction. He loved Amelia. Loved her with an intensity that had rewritten every understanding he’d previously held about himself.
And she had chosen him.
Not the respectable baronet. Not safety or propriety or any of the sensible options society insisted she should prefer. Him. The younger brother, the rake, the man who’d spent years running from every expectation only to discover he’d been running toward this moment all along.
A knock interrupted his spiral. Morrison appeared, carefully neutral in that way servants perfected when witnessing their employer’s descent into madness.
“My lord, the carriage is ready. And Lord Henry is asking for his papa.”
Henry.
