Elowen reached for him, her hand covering his. “And yet you survived London society, a conspiracy, and criminal masterminds to do so. Remarkable indeed.”
“You make it sound far simpler than it was,” he said with quiet amusement.
“Clearly not simple,” she replied, her smile deepening. “But worth every moment of struggle?”
His gaze locked on hers. “Every single one.”
She looked at him, her voice softening. “I never doubted it. From the first day I saw that your mind and your heart were of one accord, I knew we would endure whatever the world contrived to place before us.”
Lucas’s thumb traced the edge of her fingers. “You always saw what others missed. Perhaps that is why we fit so well.”
She tilted her head, thoughtful. “And did you think as much of me, in those early days?”
“I did,” he said without hesitation. “Long before the world threatened to tear us apart, before every shadowed plan and threat, I knew you were extraordinary. Not merely for your courage, though that is unquestionable, but for your clarity of thought, your steadfastness, your… rare laughter. Once, I longed merely to hear the sound of it. Now, I cannot imagine my life without it.”
Her laughter answered him, soft and melodic. “You are dangerously eloquent, Your Grace. I begin to think near-death improves your poetry.”
“I have no need of death to inspire honesty,” he replied, eyes alight. “But surviving it together makes truth taste sweeter.”
The carriage jolted over a rut in the road; Elowen caught his hand, instinctively, and he closed his fingers over hers. “You see?” he said lightly. “Even the road agrees with me.”
She leaned forward, amusement yielding to quiet contentment. “Lucas,” she began softly, “have you thought about what you wish for our life together?”
He brushed a finger along the curve of her jaw, unwilling to stop touching her. “Often,” he said. “Though I suspect you have something more particular in mind.”
“Perhaps,” she admitted, tilting her head. “But I do not mean duty, or expectation, but whatwetruly desire.”
He leaned in to kiss her before he said, “Very well. You begin first.”
Elowen’s fingers toyed with the lace at her sleeve. “I have always wished for a family. I’ve thought of three children—two girls and a boy, perhaps.” She paused, smiling faintly. “Though I would be content with whichever came first.”
Lucas smiled, a shadow of amusement in his eyes. “Three children, you say? Ambitious, Your Grace.”
“I prefer ambition to indifference,” she replied softly. “And you?”
He leaned back, thoughtful. “Yes—children. But not merely for legacy or appearance. I would see them grow in understanding, curiosity, and kindness. Three sounds just enough to fill the house with life—and still allow us a quiet corner for ourselves.”
Her expression softened. “Then we are in perfect accord. And now that Beaushire Hall awaits us, have you thought how we shall begin? A house so grand must already feel full of your past. I wonder how it will feel when it must also hold mine.”
Lucas smiled faintly, his gaze softening. “It will be ours, Elowen. Beaushire has been many things—ancestral, dutiful, heavy with expectation. But never alive as it will be with you in it. You will make it a place worth returning to.”
She laughed softly. “That is a most ambitious task for a woman who has yet to take possession of more than a parlour.”
“I have no doubt you will command the entire household within a week,” he said, amusement touching his voice. “Though I should hope you leave me one room unaltered—my study, perhaps?”
Her brows rose playfully. “That shall depend entirely on how scandalous a sight it proves to be, my lord. If it’s chaos, I reserve the right to intervene.”
He gave a quiet laugh. “Then I shall consider myself warned. Still, I believe the house will change of its own accord—your presence will see to that. There will be more music, more laughter. It has been too long since Beaushire has known either in abundance.”
Her eyes softened. “Then it shall have both. And not for form’s sake, but because they belong there. A home should be full of conversation, warmth, and a little disorder—the kind that means life is being well lived.”
Lucas took her hand, his thumb tracing idle circles against her skin. “Then that will be our charge—to make Beaushire a place where life happens freely. A home of reason and of heart.”
Elowen studied him for a moment, her expression tender. “You speak of it as though it were already true.”
He smiled. “Perhaps because I can already see it. You walking through its halls, the light following you. It will be home in a way it never was before.”
She leaned closer, her voice low. “Then it seems you have dreamt it as deeply as I.”
