She considered the question seriously. Had he proven himself? He had stayed, as he promised. He had faced Lady Smith, faced the gossips, faced the constant pressure of social observation. He had supported her publicly, made space for her voice, treated her as a partner rather than a prize to be won.
But more than that—he had been honest. With her, with himself, with everyone who asked about their relationship. He had not hidden behind his title or his walls. He had stood before her, flawed and frightened and hopeful, and allowed her to see all of him.
"Yes," she said finally. "You have proven yourself."
"Thank Heavens." The relief in his voice was palpable. "I was terrified that it would not be enough. That nothing could ever be enough, after what I put you through."
"It was not nothing, Daniel. What you did, the staying, the facing, the being present, that was everything." She turned to face him, taking both his hands in hers. "I did not need you to be perfect. I only needed you to try. And you have tried. Every day since you arrived, you have tried."
"I will continue trying. For the rest of our lives."
"I know you will." She smiled up at him, feeling the rightness of this moment, this man, this future they would build together. "And I will be beside you, every step of the way. When you struggle, and you will struggle, I will be there. When you want to retreat, I will remind you why staying is worth it. When the walls feel like the only safe option, I will show you that there is another way."
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is not simple. Nothing worth having ever is." She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss against his lips, soft and sweet and full of promise. "But it is possible. And that is enough for me."
Daniel pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. And in that moment, beneath the emerging stars, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the garden, Lillian allowed herself to believe that they would be all right.
Not perfect. Never perfect. But together.
And together, she was beginning to understand, was all that mattered.
***
They departed in the morning, the carriage rolling down the long drive toward a future neither of them could fully predict.
Lady Smith stood on the front steps, watching them go with an expression that might have been satisfaction. Rosanne had already left, eager to return and begin planning the wedding that would take place in the spring. The other guests had scattered to their various destinations, carrying gossip and speculation and the wonderful story of a duke who had ridden through the night to win the woman he loved.
Lillian sat beside Daniel in the carriage, their hands intertwined on the seat between them. The countryside rolled past, familiar fields and hedgerows, villages she had known all her life, but everything looked different now. Brighter. More full of possibility.
"What are you thinking?" Daniel asked, his voice soft.
"I am thinking that I have no idea what comes next." She turned to smile at him. "And for the first time in my life, that does not frighten me."
"No?"
"No. Because whatever comes next, we will face it together." She squeezed his hand. "That is what you promised me, is it not? That you would stay. That you would not run."
"I promised. And I intend to keep that promise." He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. "Every day. For the rest of our lives."
Epilogue
One Year Later
"You are staring."
"I am not staring. I am observing. There is a distinction."
Lillian raised an eyebrow at her husband, who had positioned himself against a pillar at the edge of Lady Barlow’s ballroom with the clear intention of watching his sister's every movement for the duration of the evening. "The distinction being?"
"Staring implies fixation. Observation implies purpose." Daniel's gaze did not waver from where Rosanne stood in conversation with a cluster of young ladies, her fan moving with easy grace, her laughter carrying across the room. "I am fulfilling my fraternal duty."
"You are hovering like a particularly well-dressed gargoyle."
"Gargoyles serve an important architectural function. They direct rainwater away from masonry."
"And you are directing eligible gentlemen away from your sister through the sheer force of ducal disapproval."
