"He's not the only one who's been miserable." Andrew's voice was soft. "I know I said I needed time alone, but I was wrong about that too. Being alone just made everything worse. Made me realize how empty the house felt without you. How pointless everything seemed when I couldn't share it with you."
Isobel looked up, Chance still squirming in her lap. "What about London? What about the Mayfair Fox?"
"What about it?" He shifted closer, until their knees were touching. "The Fox served its purpose, Isobel. From Foxdrey's ashes, the Fox was born. It saved us, rebuilt us, gave us a future. And now, from the Fox's ashes, I'm reborn." He cupped her face gently. "Not as the Duke of Foxdrey. Not as the Mayfair Fox.Just as your husband. That's who I choose to be. That's the only identity that matters anymore."
"You're certain?" She searched his eyes. "You won't wake up tomorrow and regret walking away from it?"
"I'm not walking away from anything. I'm walking toward something." His thumb stroked her cheek. "Toward you. Toward us. Toward a life built on love instead of fear. The Fox was my past. You're my future. And I finally understand that I can't have both, not really. Not if I want to be the man I'm meant to be."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. "What will you do? Without the club?"
"I don't know yet." And remarkably, saying it didn't terrify him the way it had days ago. "I have some ideas. Investments to manage. Properties to oversee. This is our first project.”
"A project," she repeated, her lips curving into a real smile.
"If you want it." He leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes locked on hers. "I know my new purpose, Isobel. But I need you to make it come true. I need you by my side, as my partner, as my wife, as the woman I love more than anything in this world."
She was crying openly now, and Chance was trying to lick away her tears, which only made her laugh through them.
"Show me," she said. "Show me the rest of the house. Show me what you're imagining for us."
Hope exploded in his chest. "What does that mean?"
"It means show me." But her smile was radiant. "Show me our future."
He helped her to her feet. Chance danced around their ankles as they moved through the house room by room. He showed her the master suite with its enormous windows overlooking the gardens. The library that could be filled with books. The dining room that needed new windows but had beautiful original molding. The parlor where he'd stacked all the art supplies.
"This could be Joan's room when she visits," he said, opening a door to a sunny chamber on the second floor. "Close enough that she's nearby but far enough for privacy.”
They ended up in the gardens, overgrown but beautiful. Roses climbed the walls, lavender grew wild in the beds, and an old fountain sat silent in the center, waiting to be restored.
"It's wonderful," Isobel said softly. "All of it. The house, the gardens, the studio. It's everything I didn't know I wanted."
"Then say yes." Andrew turned her to face him, his hands on her waist. "Say you'll give me another chance. Say you'll come home with me. Say you'll help me build this. Say you love me, and youforgive me and you'll spend the rest of your life showing me what it means to be truly worthy of someone."
She looked up at him, and he saw everything he needed in her eyes.
"I love you," she said simply. "And yes," she continued, her hands coming up to frame his face. "Yes, I'll give you another chance. Yes, I'll help you build this. Yes, I forgive you. Yes, I love you. Yes to all of it."
He kissed her then, pouring everything he couldn't say into the press of his lips against hers. Relief and love and gratitude and promise and hope. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body pressing close to his.
Chance barked happily and danced around their feet.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Andrew rested his forehead against hers.
"I promise," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I promise to spend every day trying to be worthy of this. Of you. Of us."
"You already are worthy," she whispered. "You just needed to believe it yourself."
"I'm starting to." He pulled back to look at her properly. "Because you see me. The real me. Not the Duke or the Fox or the role I'm playing. Just Andrew. And you love him anyway."
"I love him especially." She smiled, brushing a tear from his cheek. "Because he's brave enough to be vulnerable. To admit when he's wrong. To choose love over fear. That's the man I fell in love with, Andrew. Not the Mayfair Fox. Just you."
He kissed her again, softer this time. A sealing of promises made and a beginning of the future they'd build together.
She looked around the wild garden, at the house that needed so much work, at Chance digging enthusiastically in a flower bed. "This is home. This is where we start fresh. This is where we build something that's ours."
"Then let's start now." He took her hand. "I have plans. Sketches. Ideas for every room. I want your input on all of it. Your opinions. Your vision. This is our project, Isobel. Our canvas. What do you want to paint?"
