"I will not." He reached up with his free hand, cupping her face, his thumb brushing away her tears. "I have spent my entire life running from feeling, Lillian. Running from connection, from vulnerability, from anything that might pierce the armour I constructed. And I have been miserable. Utterly, completely miserable, though I told myself it was contentment, I told myself it was safety."
"And now?"
"Now I understand that safety without you is not safety at all. It is merely a slower form of dying." His voice broke on the last word, and she saw moisture gathering in his own eyes. "I love you. I have loved you since the moment you looked at me and saw past every wall I had ever built. And I am tired of running from that love. I am tired of pretending that I can survive without you."
Lillian leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cheek, the steadiness of his presence despite his obvious emotion.
"I spoke with Edward this morning," she said. "I gave him my answer."
Daniel went very still. "And?"
"I refused him."
The relief that flooded his expression was almost painful to witness; so raw, so unguarded, so utterly unlike the controlled mask he had worn for so many years.
"Lillian..."
"He said things. Unpleasant things." She felt the anger stirring in her chest again at the memory. "He suggested that I was letting sentiment override sense. That I was making a mistake by choosing you. That you would disappoint me, as he believes all men with passionate temperaments inevitably disappoint."
Daniel's jaw tightened. "He may not be wrong."
"He is wrong." Lillian's voice was fierce. "He is wrong because he does not understand what he saw when he looked at you. He saw a man hiding from his feelings, and he assumed that meant you had no feelings to hide from. But I know better. I have seen what lies beneath your walls, Daniel. And it is not the capacity for destruction that you fear; it is the capacity for love. Deep, fierce, consuming love that terrifies you precisely because it is so powerful."
"It does terrify me."
"I know. But terror is not the same as danger. You are not your father, Daniel. You have spent your entire life ensuring that you would not be—controlling yourself, guarding yourself, building walls that would prevent you from ever losing control the way he did." She reached up and covered his hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against her cheek. "The irony is that all those walls, all that control, have made you exactly the kind of man who would never repeat his mistakes. You are so afraid of passion that you have become its master rather than its slave."
"You cannot know that."
"I knowyou." She held his gaze, willing him to understand. "I know how hard you have worked to be different from your parents. I know how much strength it takes to feel as deeply as you do and still maintain your composure. I know that the man who rode through the night to reach me, who faced Lady Smith's interrogation, who stood in that drawing room and supported me before everyone. That man is not capable of the destruction you fear."
Daniel stared at her, his expression wavering between hope and disbelief. "How can you be so certain?"
"Because you have already proven it. Tonight, this week, every moment since you arrived—you have been proving that you can stay present when things are difficult. That you can face your fears instead of running from them. That you can love me without losing yourself in the process." Lillian smiled through her tears. "That is not the behaviour of a man destined to repeat his parents' mistakes. That is the behaviour of a man who has learned from them."
The silence stretched between them, heavy with possibility. Lillian could feel Daniel's pulse racing where his hand pressed against her face, she could see the struggle playing out behind his eyes as he wrestled with years of fear and self-doubt.
And then, slowly, his expression changed. The doubt faded, replaced by something that looked almost like wonder.
"You truly believe that."
"I truly believe it."
"Even after everything I have done. Everything I have put you through."
"Even so." She turned her face to press a kiss against his palm. "I love you, Daniel. Not despite your wounds, but in full knowledge of them. And I am willing to build a life with you, a real life, with all its difficulties and imperfections, if you are willing to build it with me."
"I am." The words came out rough, fierce. "I am more than willing. I am desperate for it. I have wanted nothing else since the moment I understood what you meant to me."
"Then ask me again."
He understood immediately. Without hesitation, without any of the careful deliberation that had characterized his actions for so long, he sank to one knee.
"Miss Lillian Whitcombe." His voice was steadier now, though she could see his hands trembling where they held hers. "I have spent my life running from the very thing I needed most. I have built walls and hidden behind them, convinced myself that safety mattered more than happiness, told myself that I was protecting others when I was only protecting myself. And you..." His voice cracked. "You tore down every wall I had ever built. You saw me as I truly am, and you loved me anyway. I do not deserve you. I may never deserve you. But I am asking you, begging you, to be my wife. To let me spend the rest of my life trying to become the man you believe I can be."
Lillian looked down at him—this proud, wounded, beautiful man who had finally found the courage to kneel. Who had proven, through action rather than words, that he was capable of change. Who loved her with an intensity that should have been terrifying but instead felt like coming home.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, Daniel. I will marry you."
