"I fell in love with her," Frederick continued. "Completely, hopelessly, irrevocably in love. And for the first time in my life, I wanted something more than I wanted to be safe. I wanted her. I wanted a life with her. I wanted to wake up every morning next to someone who actually saw me—not the title, not the position, but me."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was thick with emotion.
"My aunt, Lady Helena Blackmore, came to this village a week ago. She came to put a stop to what she called my 'unfortunate attachment.' She threatened to destroy Lydia's reputation, her uncle's business, her standing in this community. She gave me an ultimatum: end the relationship and marry someone suitable, or face the consequences."
Whispers erupted throughout the church. This was a scandal of the highest order; a viscountess threatening a commoner, family politics laid bare for all to see.
Frederick waited for the noise to subside.
"I refused. I told my aunt that I would rather lose everything than give up the woman I loved. I meant it then, and I mean it now." His jaw set. "But Helena didn't stop with me. She went to Lydia. She told her a story, a twisted, poisonous version of thetruth, designed to make Lydia believe that leaving me was the kindest thing she could do."
Lydia felt her face flush with shame. The whole village was watching her now, understanding dawning in their eyes.
"She convinced Lydia that my love was infatuation. That I would eventually regret my choice. That the only way to save me from myself was to walk away." Frederick’s voice hardened. "And Lydia, brave, foolish, wonderful Lydia, believed her. She came to me yesterday and told me it was over. She broke my heart because she thought she was protecting me."
The silence was absolute.
"I'm here today because I want everyone to know the truth. Not the version Helena told, not the version the gossips have invented, but the truth." Frederick took a deep breath. "I love Lydia Fletcher. I will always love Lydia Fletcher. And I am going to marry her, if she'll have me—not because I'm blind to the consequences, but because I've counted them and found them worth paying."
Gasps echoed through the church. A duke publicly declaring his intention to marry a commoner. It was unprecedented. Scandalous. Utterly improper.
And it was exactly what Lydia had been too afraid to let him do.
"I know what this means," Frederick continued. "I know that society will shun me. That doors will close, and invitations will stop coming. That my children will be whispered about and my grandchildren will carry the stain of my choice for generations." His voice rose. "I do not care. I would rather be shunned with her than accepted without her. I would rather live in scandal than die in respectability."
He reached into his coat and withdrew a letter; old, yellowed, fragile.
"This letter was written by my mother. She hid it before she died, hoping someone would find it and learn from her mistakes." He held it up for the congregation to see. "She loved someone once. A scholar, not a nobleman. They were going to run away together. But her family stopped them. My aunt helped stop them. And my mother spent the rest of her short life regretting the choice she'd been forced to make."
The congregation stirred uneasily. This was family business, dark, painful family business, being exposed in a public forum.
"Her last words were a warning. 'If you ever have the chance to choose love, real love, the kind that makes you feel alive, choose it. Don't let fear make your decision for you.'" Frederick’s voice cracked. "I'm choosing love. I'm choosing Lydia. And I'm doing it here, in front of everyone, so that there can be no doubt. No taking it back."
He turned to face Lydia directly.
"I know you thought you were saving me. I know you believed that letting me go was the kindest thing you could do. But you were wrong." His eyes were bright with unshed tears. "The kindest thing you can do, the only thing I want, is for you to stay. To fight for this with me. To build a life that proves my aunt wrong about everything."
The church held its breath.
"Lydia Fletcher," Frederick said. "I love you. I will always love you. And I am asking you, in front of everyone who matters, to marry me."
Chapter 23
For a long moment, Lydia couldn't move.
The entire village was staring at her. Waiting for her response. The Duke of Corvenwell had just made the most public, most scandalous, most romantic declaration in living memory, and now the fate of that declaration rested entirely on her.
She thought about all the reasons to say no. The scandal. The whispers. The children who would grow up caught between two worlds.
She thought about Helena's warnings, which had seemed so reasonable yesterday and seemed so hollow now.
She thought about her mother, Eleanor Ashworth, who had given up everything for love and never regretted it.
She thought about Frederick’s mother, who had given up love for duty and died full of regret.
And she thought about Frederick himself. Standing at the front of a village church, having just laid his heart bare for everyone to see. Waiting for her to decide whether his courage had been worth it.
She stood up.
