Cheers. Laughter. Applause. Alexandra blinked, momentarily overwhelmed, then glanced toward her sisters. Lavinia pressed a hand to her chest, eyes shining. Sophia gave an exuberant cheer. Her friend, Louisa winked and mouthed, "Finally." The room sparkled with celebration—but it was the warmth in those familiar faces that made her heart truly race.
Genny raised her glass, catching Alexandra’s eye with a wink. “To the most scandalous spring romance the ton has ever seen.”
Lord Redford clinked his glass to hers. “And to a rogue finally caught.”
Simon raised his brows. “Willingly caught, I’d say.”
Lady Worthington fainted dead away in her seat. Lord Hargrove, sitting nearby, blinked in alarm. He waved his handkerchief with the enthusiasm of a man who had never dealt with an actual unconscious woman. "Should someone—fetch a maid?" he asked to no one in particular, looking thoroughly scandalized.
Lord Redford did not miss a beat. “If we fetch the maid every time Honoria faints over a kiss, we will need to retain a full staff.”
* * *
The dancing resumed, and Alexandra and Magnus waltzed beneath the chandeliers, their every step perfectly in tune.
He held her close, his hand warm at the small of her back.
“So,” she whispered. “This is how a spring fling ends.”
Magnus twirled her gently, then pulled her close again, his hand pressing firmly at her back as if anchoring her in the moment.
He kissed her temple. “This is how it begins.”
They danced late into the night, scandalizing and delighting society in equal measures.
And when they finally slipped away from the crowd, hand in hand beneath the starlit sky, Alexandra looked up at him with a mischievous smile.
“You know,” she said, “I never intended to fall in love with you. Not in a ballroom. Not in the rain. And certainly not in a bed of tulips. But somewhere between storms and schemes, between waltzes and wagers, I lost the game—and found something far more dangerous. And far more wonderful.”
“And yet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, “I planned on nothing else.”
Together, they stepped into the night—a rogue no longer running, a lady no longer fleeing, and a love no longer fleeting.
Forever had begun.
* * *
Two Weeks Later…
Alexandra, soon to be Lady Langley, stood in the gardens behind her family home, the scent of peonies wafting on the breeze. Her wedding was set for the following week, an affair expected to be both grand and terribly improper—a far cry from the quiet future she once envisioned. But after that night, standing beneath chandeliers with the eyes of the ton upon her and her heart laid bare, she no longer feared the spectacle. She had chosen it. Chosen him. She could not help but marvel at how far she’d come—from dodging suitors in hedge mazes to accepting a love that had surprised her at every turn. This wasn’t the future she’d planned, but it was one she had chosen, fully and fiercely, with open eyes and an unguarded heart.
She was wearing boots beneath her gown, a delightful rebellion wrapped in silk and laces, a fact she found deeply satisfying—symbolic, really, of the woman she had always been. Practical. Defiant. Ready to run—until she chose to stay.
Magnus found her there and didn’t hesitate to sweep her into a kiss.
“One more week,” he murmured.
She grinned. “Think you’ll survive?”
“Not if you keep kissing me like that.” He pulled her tight against him.
She pulled back with a mock-stern expression. “And no more duels, declarations, or dramatic rescues.”
Magnus raised a brow, placing a hand to his heart in mock despair. “You wound me. I was prepared to slay dragons—or at the very least, wrestle overly enthusiastic florists.”
She tapped a finger against her chin. “I was thinking fencing lessons. Or scandalous picnics. Or perhaps letting you chase me through the gardens again—just to keep you on your toes.”
“Oh, I will find ways to keep you occupied. You may count on it.” He kissed her again, and all thought fled her mind.
