One of the footmen—a young man with a worried expression—approached Sebastian with something in his hand.
“We found this near the base of the stairs, sir. Is this what you were looking for?”
He held out his palm. Resting on it was a single pearl, luminous and perfect, gleaming softly in the morning light.
Cecilia’s heart stopped.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, that is it.”
Sebastian took the pearl carefully, examined it, then turned to her with a smile that made her chest ache.
“Your mother’s pearl,” he said, placing it gently in her palm. “Returned to you.”
She closed her fingers around it, feeling its familiar weight, its smooth surface. Tears spilled down her cheeks again, but these were different—tears of relief, of joy, of overwhelming gratitude.
“Thank you,” she said, to Sebastian, to the footman, to the universe that had allowed this small miracle. “Thank you.”
“I told you we would find it.” Sebastian’s hand came to rest at the small of her back, steadying her. “Now let us have it restrung properly, so you never have to fear losing it again.”
***
They found a small sitting room where Cecilia might recover herself, removed from the curious glances of servants and lingering guests. Sebastian sent for tea—and for Helena, who arrived presently with the remaining strand of pearls and an expression of unmistakable relief.
“Thank goodness,” she said, the tension easing from her features as she saw the missing pearl restored to Cecilia’s keeping. “I had begun to fear the worst.”
“It was in the entrance hall—near the stairs.” Cecilia turned the pearl between her fingers, still scarcely able to believe it hadbeen found. “I must have loosened it when I was nervous, before the ball truly began.”
“The clasp is weakened. I shall take the strand to a jeweller in the village—he can repair it at once.” Helena extended her hand. “May I?”
Cecilia hesitated. The thought of relinquishing the necklace, even for a few hours, made her chest tighten. But Helena was right; without repair, she risked losing more than one pearl.
“Yes. Thank you.” She placed the necklace and the pearl into Helena’s keeping, watching as they disappeared safely into a small pouch.
“I will return them before evening,” Helena promised. “You have my word.”
When she had gone, the room felt quieter—more private. A fire glowed gently in the grate, and the windows looked out upon the winter garden. The hush of the space seemed to cradle them.
“You look exhausted,” Sebastian said, settling opposite her. “Did you sleep at all?”
“A little. My thoughts would not be still.”
“I understand the sensation.” His expression softened. “I kept turning the evening over in my mind—the moment I saw you in the ballroom… our dance… the way you made your choice so clear.”
“My choice?”
“You chose me,” he said simply. “I had hoped—perhaps even believed—but to see it in your eyes… to hear it in your voice…”
She lowered her gaze. “I was terrified the entire time. I half expected something to intervene—or for you to realise you had made a grave mistake.”
“There was no mistake,” he replied at once. “There never could be, where you are concerned.”
“You cannot know that. We have known one another for such a short time. It hardly seems sufficient to build a life upon.”
“It is sufficient to know what I feel. The rest—the work of a lifetime—we shall learn together.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice quiet but resolute. “Cecilia—I have spent thirty years being careful. Measuring every word. Performing expectation. You are the first thing I have wanted without calculation.”
“And if wanting leads only to disappointment?”
“Then at least I shall have reached for something real, instead of resigning myself to emptiness for the sake of safety.” He took her hand—not possessively, but with gentle assurance. “I would rather have one year of genuine happiness with you than a lifetime of comfortable indifference with another.”
