She did not know what to say, so she said nothing. She only looked at him and saw not the Duke, but the man who had once waltzed with her, who had lifted her above the ruin of her world and let her be herself, if only for a moment.
He took the chain and fastened it around her neck, his fingers careful, reverent against her skin. “I am not a good man,” he said, voice barely audible. “But I am yours, if you will have me.”
She put her hand to the amethyst, feeling its old familiar weight. “I will,” she said, and the words were so simple, so final, that she almost missed the gravity of them.
He leaned in slowly, and his arm circled her waist, drawing her to him. Their lips met, and the world contracted to a single, perfect point. The kiss was soft at first, then grew with a fire andhunger that put their last kiss to utter shame. When they broke apart, she was crying, but she did not mind.
He kneeled before her, because of course he did, because even a man like Evermere knew how to make a proposal that could not be refused.
“Lady Lavinia Pembroke,” he said, “will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she answered, and then “Yes,” again, just to hear the sound of it in the air.
Tristan rested his forehead against hers, then kissed her lips over and over again in small, teasing bites. But then something soft wound between them at their feet.
They both looked down, and then up, and then started laughing, and did not stop for a very long time. Tristan scooped up the cat, and Whisper blinked at him with all the hauteur of a prince returned to his throne.
“It seems,” Tristan said, “our family is already complete.”
Lavinia’s heart soared at the word, and she thought it just might break her.
But it did not. It only made her whole.
EPILOGUE
“Oh, Frances, you’re strangling me.”
“I am not.” Frances peered around Lavinia’s shoulder, her brow knit in concentration as she attempted, for the third time, to coax the flower crown on her head into obedience. “If you would stop craning your neck, you might survive the ordeal intact. And so might the lace.”
Lavinia, already listing forward from the weight of pins and frippery, stifled a laugh. “I should have eloped. Alone. With only the cat as witness.”
Frances snorted, but her eyes shone in the glass as she met Lavinia’s gaze. “Scandalous. The duchess-to-be absconding with a notorious duke. You would be the toast of the penny press.”
“I would have settled for toast,” Lavinia muttered, but even she could not suppress the fluttering in her chest as she stared at the reflection. The woman in the mirror was not the anxious,miserable daughter of Pembroke. Nor was she the penniless etiquette tutor.
She was every inch a bride, and the amethyst pendant at her throat shone with her mother’s memory and pride.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Frances whispered, brushing her fingertips over the jewel. “You look like Mother did, the day of her painting.”
Lavinia could not speak. She only nodded, blinking so her vision would not ripple and ruin the effect.
Frances bit her lip. “Shall I fetch the flowers? It’s nearly time.”
“I suppose you must.” Lavinia steadied her nerves with a smile. “Go on.”
Frances grinned, hugged her around the middle, nearly upending the flower crown in the process, and darted from the room, her footsteps echoing down the marbled hallway.
Left alone, Lavinia allowed herself the smallest sigh. If her hands trembled on the edge of the dressing table, it was nobody’s business.
She ran a thumb along the pendant, its warmth settling her more than any rational thought. She tried to recall every moment that had led to this one: the ball, the storm, the laughter, theheartbreak. Even the bruises were precious now, proof that she had survived.
The door creaked. In the mirror, Moira’s shape appeared behind her: a tartan shawl thrown over one shoulder, face set in a look Lavinia could only describe as determinedly sentimental.
“May I come in, lamb?” Moira’s voice was gentle, but brooked no argument.
“I do not think you could be stopped,” Lavinia replied.
Moira came to stand behind her, hands on her shoulders. “You know,” she said, “your mother once told me she prayed you’d find a life that was all your own. No matter what the world thought of it.”
