“Let them wonder,” Courtney replied, feeling uncharacteristically bold. “They know why I’m here and will give us our privacy.”
He laughed softly. “Even so, Julian is still your brother and I don’t want to upset him. I’ve also promised to take Ava-Marie riding this afternoon. Her first proper lesson.”
The mention of his daughter brought reality back into focus. Whatever grew between them would need to include Ava-Marie—a fact Courtney was increasingly comfortable with. The child had wormed her way into Courtney’s heart with her enthusiastic questions and unguarded affection. But would the child be a constant reminder of the woman he still loved?
“Then we should go,” she agreed, rising from the bench. “I wouldn’t want to deprive her of her lesson.”
Lucien stood as well, gathering his fishing equipment. As they made their way back through the woods, he reached for herhand, entwining his fingers with hers in a gesture that felt both protective and possessive.
“Will you join us?” he asked. “For the riding lesson? Ava-Marie would be delighted.”
The invitation, seemingly simple, felt significant—an inclusion in this most precious part of his life.
“I’d love to,” she replied, squeezing his hand gently.
As they emerged from the woods into the afternoon sunlight, Courtney felt a lightness in her heart that had been absent for years. No, this wasn’t the same love they’d shared before. But perhaps, just perhaps, it could be something even better.
“That was a big sigh,” he said as he squeezed her hand.
“We leave for London tomorrow. The two weeks have gone by so quickly.”
“I know we are all busy packing but tonight, after dinner, can we talk privately about our situation? In the library perhaps?”
Her heart gave a lurch. This was it. She had to make her decision—tonight! She smiled bravely to show she wasn’t afraid, but her legs were already beginning to shake. “That would be lovely.”
Chapter Sixteen
Lucien paced thelength of the library, the dying embers in the fireplace casting long shadows across the weathered carpet. He paused before the window, gazing out at the moonlit grounds of Danvers Hall. The estate looked peaceful, timeless—so different from his humble cottage in Ireland. Yet somehow, over these past two weeks, this place had begun to feel like home, or a place he could make a home. Probably because it was away from the eyes and vicious tongues of theton.
His fingers toyed with the small velvet box in his pocket. It contained his mother’s ring—a sapphire surrounded by diamonds that the earl had pressed into his hand this morning, urging him to do what was expected of him. That was just it. He wanted more from a marriage than money. He could be happy with Courtney, couldn’t he? His stomach churned once more.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he stood, about to propose to a woman he couldn’t remember loving, while still carrying the weight of Ava’s deception. His heart felt like a battlefield where past and present waged an endless war.
The soft click of the door opening made him turn. Courtney stood in the doorway, a vision in a simple evening dress of deep blue that made her auburn hair glow like burnished copper in the firelight. She looked beautiful. And some of his tension left his shoulders. Her amber eyes held a question as she hesitated on the threshold.
“You came,” he said, the words coming out more breathless than he’d intended.
“You asked me to.” Her simple reply held no coyness, no games—just honesty. That was what drew him to her most, he realized. In a world where he’d been deceived so thoroughly, her straightforward nature was like a beacon. He wanted to trust her.
She crossed to join him by the window, close enough that he could catch the subtle scent of roses that seemed to cling to her. “It’s a beautiful night,” she observed.
“It is,” he agreed, though his eyes remained on her face rather than the view. “Courtney, these past two weeks—”
“Have been lovely,” she finished for him, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again. And I hate to say it, but you’re not so different from the man you don’t remember.”
His throat tightened with unexpected emotion. “Really?”
She turned to face him fully. “Well, maybe somewhat the same. I suspect five years changes people, Lucien. Whether spent in Ireland living a different life, or in London grieving what I thought was lost.”
He took her hands in his, marveling at how perfectly they fit within his own. “What I feel for you is…complicated,” he admitted. “I admire you—your intelligence, your openness, your kindness toward Ava-Marie.”
“I adore her. She’s a part of you,” she said simply. “She makes it easy.”
“I like you,” he continued, choosing each word carefully. “I more than like you. I find myself thinking of you when we’re apart, watching for you when you enter a room. I respect your opinions, value your insights.”
“But you’re not in love with me,” she said, her voice gentle rather than accusatory.
The truth of it hung between them, painful but necessary. “I don’t know if I’m capable of that kind of love again,” he confessed, the admission costing him dearly. “After losing Ava, after everything that happened in Ireland…”
