Maddie swallowed the ache rising in her throat. Every word felt like a step toward something she’d tried not to hope for.
They were right.
Sebastian had stood beside her. Now she needed to stand beside him.
“All right.”
Sera grinned. “To love. And to not marrying Paisley.”
Ashley chuckled. “The world rejoices.”
And for the first time all evening, the cold inside Maddie began to thaw.
She didn’t feel helpless.
She felt ready.
Ready to fight. Ready to hope.
Ready to choose love, even if it meant choosing it loudly.
Ready to stand by her man no matter what.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maddie smiled atthe note in her hand, the script bold, slanted, and just slightly arrogant.
Meet me at the stables. Bring your appetite.
Signed with a devilishly smug “—S”.
Her first note from Sebastian. And it was exactly what she should have expected. Not random. Not careless. Just bold enough to be thrilling.
“A picnic?” she murmured, brow arching. “In the stables?”
An inelegant snort escaped before she could stop it. “Good grief. The man’s no better than the Earl of Linsey.”
She set the note aside and reached for her coat. Horse men.
Still, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet with him.
At the last second, she paused at her vanity, fingers brushing the small silver etui beside her combs and scent bottle. Habit. Her apothecary instincts never truly went quiet. She slipped it into her pocket—just in case.
She paused by the door, glancing toward the window. The snow had all but vanished, now mere streaks of slush clinging here and there. The road beyond the estate ran clear and open. No longer buried.
Her hand faltered at the latch.
Did Sebastian know? About Paisley?
She pressed her lips together, then straightened her spine. Probably. But she still needed to tell him. Reaffirm her intentions. Her love. Her vow.
She didn’t meet any of her friends on her way out—only a few servants, mercifully too busy to tease or question her. But the moment she reached the stables, her steps faltered.
There were no baskets or blankets laid out. No Sebastian leaning handsomely against a post.
Instead, a polished black carriage stood waiting, door ajar, the driver in his seat, ready to take off.
Her heart gave a strange little lurch.
