He gestured vaguely to their surroundings. The room was cramped and spartanly furnished, and she knew the Duke was uncomfortable being here.
Phoebe’s chest tightened. “I did not expect you to act out of haste before.” She swallowed a heavy sigh. “You told me that you loved me, you asked me to marry you, but I also knew that we would not simply elope and leave all our worries behind us. I understood that there were matters which still required your attention and…”
“My attention,” Sebastian said the words bitterly. “My attention should have been focused on you, Phoebe.” His jaw clenched. “How could I have let them steal from you?” He waved his hand at her necklace. “How could I have taken my eyes off you long enough for your parents to spirit you away and hide you in this place?”
It was clear that Sebastian was taking too much of the blame on himself, and Phoebe wanted to comfort him.
“No one could have talked sense into my parents,” she said softly. “I tried to tell them that we were engaged. I…”
“But I should have been there when you made that announcement. I should have been standing by your side. I abandoned you. I let my fears and worries…my concerns for my own obligations clouded my judgement.”
He ran a hand through his long hair and made the auburn locks stand slightly on end. “All the masquerades, all the games, the charade of the Duke… they were necessary for my life. But you saw me. Beyond the mask, beyond the title. And yet I hurt you. I left you to suffer on your own. I am sorry for that, truly.”
Tears pricked her eyes. “You made me feel alive, and then you left me wondering if any of it could last. I have been gone from London for almost a week. I have sat here day after day wondering if you, or Genevieve, or anyone would ever find me again. So, why come now, Sebastian? Why bring my necklace and say these things?”
“Because I can no longer stand not being honest,” he said, taking a small step closer. “I would have come sooner, if I had been permitted. I have secrets, Phoebe. You know this. You have known since the moment we met that there were forces at play in my life that required me to keep my identity closeted.”
“And you waited to come for me because…”
“I had to be sure it was safe to tell you my story…my whole tale… my truth.”
Phoebe nodded. “Now? Now you will share your secrets with me?”
“Yes,” he breathed. Sebastian gazed deeply into her eyes. “I am a spy for the Crown. I have spent years navigating danger, protecting lives… always knowing attachment is perilous. I wore the mask, the charm, the façade, but none of it mattered when I was around you. You saw past it, and you deserve the truth.”
Her gaze faltered, heart hammering, mind whirling. “You are a spy? But surely… Oh, Sebastian. I never… never would have dreamed.” She clutched the necklace so hard that the pendant bit into her palm. “And you risked everything to come here?”
He exhaled deeply. “The risk was worth taking. I will not let you be trapped by their decisions, by your parents’ will, by circumstance. I came because I had to, and because I want you to choose, with full knowledge, freely.”
Phoebe swallowed hard, trembling, but she found her voice. “And now I know everything?”
Sebastian reached slowly into his coat, drawing out a small, worn manuscript. The leather binding was soft, marked with creases from frequent handling. He held it out to her, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Genevieve gave this to me almost a week ago,” he said quietly. “She told me you wrote it. That it was yours, meant for her as a gift. And yet, while reading it I saw so much more. It showed me your heart, your mind, the truth of your soul.”
Phoebe’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat. “My writing?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Yes,” he said, kneeling carefully before her. The gesture was solemn and humble. “You wrote what you could not say aloud. What you could not express in a world that had you constrained by expectation and propriety. And in those pages… I saw you. Not the Phoebe the world expects. Not the dutiful daughter, the quiet observer, the girl bound by her family’s will. I saw the real Phoebe. The Phoebe who dares, who dreams, who loves with honesty and courage.”
Phoebe felt a tear prick the corner of her eye, the heat of emotion rising in her chest. She wanted to reach for him, to touch, to collapse into the safety of his arms, but something in the stillness demanded she hold herself steady and savor the weight of his words.
“I have spent my life behind walls, behind masks,” he continued, voice low, resonant, vulnerable. “The Duke of Talwyn, the charmer, the man who moves among society like a shadowed actor; I am all these things. But you… you have seen beyond it. You have seen me. And it terrifies me, and it delights me, in equal measure. Because in seeing me… you have given me the most glorious gift: the possibility of being known, and of being loved despite the truth of who I am.”
He paused, letting the words hang in the small room; his gaze fixed on hers. Phoebe’s breath was shallow; her pulse thundered in her ears.
“I have faced danger, deception, loss… and yet never have I felt so exposed, so alive, as when I read your words. They pierced every wall I have built around my heart, every mask I have worn to navigate this world. They reminded me of what I want—what I need—and it is you, Phoebe. Only you.”
Phoebe’s hands trembled at her sides. “Sebastian…” she breathed, unable to summon more.
He stared up at her. “I have abandoned certainty and ease, risked my safety, my reputation, everything I have known, because you deserve the truth. You deserve a choice that is entirely yours, unbound by fear or obligation. And I,” his voice caught, a rare crack in his otherwise measured tone, “I want to be the man who stands beside you for the rest of your life. I want to be the one you can trust, the one you can love, the one who will cherish you as you deserve.”
Phoebe’s lips parted, tears brimming, and she shook her head slightly, overwhelmed by his honesty, his intensity, and the gravity of the moment they shared.
“Phoebe,” he said, lifting her hand gently between both of his, “I kneel before you not as the Duke you know in society, but as the man who has loved you in secret, who has waited and hoped for this chance. I kneel before you because I am powerless in your presence… powerless to resist you, powerless to hide what I feel. And I kneel because I am asking you, with all that I am, with all that I have, will you?—”
He swallowed, the words thick with emotion, “will you marry me, Phoebe? Will you give me the honor, the joy, and the challenge of loving you, of sharing your life, of choosing one another freely, without the interference of masks, society, or expectation? Will you let me be yours, wholly and without reservation?”
The room seemed to narrow. The sunlight slanted across his face, highlighting the fire in his eyes, the warmth in his cheeks, the awe in his expression.
