“Undoubtedly.” Crispin grinned. “But satisfaction is rather my natural state. You will simply have to learn to tolerate it.”
He lifted his glass, capturing the company’s attention. Conversation quieted. Footmen offered fresh champagne, and hands reached automatically as the ritual of a toast arranged itself.
“Friends,” Crispin began, voice warm yet firm, “we have gathered this fortnight for what I promised would be a pleasant diversion from London’s endless obligations. I trust you have found the diversion satisfactory.”
Murmurs rose, approval and politeness interwoven.
“But some diversions,” Crispin continued, gaze sliding to Alice and Samuel, “prove more significant than mere entertainment. Some discoveries require courage. The courage to see clearly, and the courage to embrace what one sees.”
He raised his glass, the morning sun sparking along its rim.
“To unexpected discoveries,” he said, sincerity warming the words, “and the courage to embrace them.”
Glasses lifted. Applause rippled. Soft, warm, unmistakably approving.
Alice felt the attention settle on her and Samuel. Not the sharp stare of gossips, but something gentler.
Clara stepped forward and took Alice’s hand. Her gaze held a depth of understanding that required no explanation.
“I knew,” Clara whispered, squeezing Alice’sfingers. “From the first evening. I knew you were exactly what he needed.”
She released Alice and offered Samuel the smallest nod.
Samuel’s fingers found Alice’s and laced with hers openly, for everyone to see. The hand that had once trembled reaching for her held steady now.
Whatever stories returned to London with these guests, they would not be tales of scandal.
They would be stories of what happened when two stubborn souls finally told the truth.
The carriage waited at the foot of the entrance steps, dark lacquer gleaming, matched grays stamping with impatience. Alice paused at the top of the steps and drew one last breath of Yorkshire air, cool and clean, carrying the faint sweetness of gardens that had witnessed more than they ought.
Samuel descended first and turned at the door to offer his hand.
The gesture was simple. One gentleman assisting a lady into a vehicle. A motion repeated countless times across England every morning.
Yet Alice felt the meaning of it as she placed her gloved fingersin his palm.
His grip was steady. The care with which he guided her up the step and into the carriage was unmistakable. His eyes held hers. Gray as morning mist, warm with a love she was still learning how to carry without fear.
The leather seats welcomed her. Samuel climbed in behind, and the door shut with a definitive click that cut them off from watching eyes.
Outside, the coachman called to the horses.
The carriage lurched forward, wheels biting gravel before settling into the long, even roll of the main road. Oakford Hall began its slow retreat behind them.
Alice watched through the rear window as golden stone warmed in sunlight, as gardens tightened into pattern and distance, as the terrace where Crispin had raised his glass became a glint and then a memory.
On the entrance steps, Crispin and Clara stood arm in arm. Clara lifted a hand in a small wave. Crispin simply smiled, satisfaction radiating from him as though he credited himself with everything good that happened on this land.
Perhaps he was.
The road smoothed. The carriage’s motion invited conversation, or silence.
Alice turned to find Samuel watching her, his posture relaxed against the cushions in a way shehad never seen from him before. Not rigid control, but something looser, more certain of its welcome.
She leaned her head against his shoulder.
The gesture required no calculation. She let her weight settle into him and felt his breathing adjust, accommodating her as naturally as if he had been waiting for permission to hold her for far longer than either had admitted.
