The music swelled. Conversations hushed.
Magnus turned to face the crowd.
“May I have your attention,” he said, voice carrying over the violins.
The dancers stopped.
Every eye turned toward them.
Alexandra felt her heart hammering beneath her ribs. Her breath came shallow and sharp. This was it.
This was madness.
This was love.
Magnus looked only at her.
“Lady Alexandra Peregrine.” Magnus dropped to one knee, pausing just long enough for the silence to stretch, for the hush to deepen. Then he looked up at her, eyes alight with something tender and unshakable. "You are chaos and calm. Fire and freedom. Storm and sanctuary. I have never met a woman more infuriating—or more extraordinary.”
She blinked rapidly.
“I have chased you through hedges, across lawns, and into rainstorms. And I would do it a thousand times more just for the chance to stand beside you.”
Someone sniffled—Arthur.
Magnus shifted slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make the moment feel intimate despite the crowd.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, the vulnerability in his eyes belying the confidence in his tone.
A whisper ran through the crowd like wind rustling through paper. Alexandra stood frozen in the center of it all, a pulse of awe and disbelief thrumming through her chest.
For a moment, She could only stare at him. The room seemed to vanish—no chandeliers, no violins, no audience—just the man kneeling before her and the deafening thud of her heart. Was this what surrender felt like? No. It was victory. And a terrifying, wondrous beginning.
Magnus held her gaze. “Will you be my confidante, my co-conspirator, my forever?”
Silence.
Then—
Alexandra stepped forward.
“Only if you vow to never treat me like something to be possessed.”
The words left her lips like a challenge, but in her chest, something trembled. Speaking them aloud in front of the entire ton meant baring a piece of herself—her fear, her defiance, and her hope that he might truly see her as an equal.
“I swear it.”
“And you must promise never to let me win lawn bowls out of pity.” She grinned.
He let out a laugh and offered her a mock-bow. “Never. I shall win every time.”
She hesitated—just a beat—as the hush in the room stretched, the world narrowing to the man before her. Then, softly, steadily, she said, “Then yes, I will marry you.”
The room seemed to exhale around her, a collective sigh of joy and surprise. She held his gaze, steady and unflinching, as though tethering herself to the only truth that mattered in that moment.
She reached for him, pulled him to his feet, and kissed him soundly in the center of the ballroom.
The room erupted.
