"I was sent by your father," he said solemnly.
That made her pause. "Papa?"
Jasper took the basket gently from her hands and set it aside on the low stone wall, careful not to spill a single flower. Then he took both of her hands in his.
"I asked him for your hand, Abigail. And he said yes."
Her lips parted, surprise overtaking her features, and a flush bloomed in her cheeks.
Jasper's voice caught as he spoke. "Abigail, I thought I understood what love was... but that was before I saw you again at your coming-out ball. I didn't expect it, but in that moment, I knew—it was you. Only you. The one I wanted beside me, in every way. Not for titles, not out of duty, but because you are the one I want to spend my life with."
He paused, breath unsteady, and then asked softly, "Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"
Tears sprang to her eyes, but her voice was clear. "Yes. Of course, yes."
He slipped the ring—the one his mother had once dreamed of him using for his future bride—onto her finger, and she threw her arms around him.
Above the garden, a skylark sang, and the scent of lavender drifted through the air as Jasper held the woman he now knew he had waited years to call his own.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Lord Philip Browning— the future Duke of Everly—stood before the Earl of Blackwell's study, his knuckles lightly rapping on the door.
The quiet sound felt too loud in the stillness of the grand home. As the Earl's voice called out from beyond the closed door, granting him entry, Philip squared his shoulders and steppedinside, the weight of what he was about to ask pressing heavily upon him.
The Earl looked up from his desk, his gaze sharp as always but unreadable.
"Lord Browning," he greeted, rising briefly to shake his hand before motioning for him to sit. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Philip took the offered seat, his palms slightly damp despite his best efforts to appear composed.
"I come with a request, my lord," he began, the words feeling heavier than they ever had before.
"I would like to ask for Sophia's hand in marriage."
The Earl set down his pen, the room falling silent as he studied Philip, his expression neutral. For a moment, Philip thought he might speak—but instead, the Earl only sighed and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together.
"You are a man of good reputation, Philip," he said at last, his voice soft but steady.
"And Sophia has had nothing but kind things to say about you. I've seen it in your eyes while you courted her—that quiet devotion, the look of a man who has truly fallen in love."
His gaze drifted to the window, the light catching the creases of memory in his face, before returning to Philip.
"Sophia... she's always been a great joy to me. After the heartbreak of losing my wife and our second child during childbirth, Sophia became my entire world. She was my light through that darkness, my reason to keep going. Giving her away... it's no easy thing. But I see the way she looks at you, and I believe—truly believe—you'll honor her, protect her, and love her as she deserves."
Philip nodded, his heart racing.
"I will, sir. She is... she is everything to me. I cannot imagine my future without her in it."
A small, approving smile tugged at the corners of the Earl's lips.
"Well said, my boy. I'm glad you see her as such."
Then the Earl leaned forward, his voice soft but firm.
"You have my blessing, Philip. It's clear to me that you love her—and she's lucky to have you."
Philip let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you, my lord. I will spend the rest of my days proving I am worthy of her."
