"For hours. Norman said I sounded like an idiot the first forty times, but by attempt forty-one I was almost coherent." His smile was self-deprecating. "Though I suppose we'll see if all that practice actually helped."
"Go on then." She crossed her arms, armor against hope. "Say what you came to say."
He took a breath. "You once told me I turn everything into a wager."
"I did."
"You were right. I've spent my entire adult life gambling, not with cards or dice, but with my choices. Every decision wascalculated to prove I wasn't my father. Every action designed to show the world that I was different. Better. Worth something." He stepped closer. "But the biggest gamble I ever took was with you. And I almost lost."
"Andrew."
"Consider this my last wager, my darling." The endearment came out tender, almost shy. "If you step into that carriage—" He gestured toward the door. "—I promise I will spend every day trying to be a worthy husband to you. I will choose you over everything. I will love you loudly and proudly and without reservation."
Her heart was racing so fast she felt dizzy. "And if I don't?"
His smile was gentle. "Then I shall keep coming until you do. Every day. Twice a day if necessary. I'll write letters. I'll send flowers. I'll stand outside this house and declare my love until your father has me arrested for disturbing the peace." His voice softened. "And I never lose, remember?"
The callback to their first real conversation, when she'd been running from a failed wedding and he'd been chasing his puppy, made something inside her break open.
This was what she'd been waiting for. Not pretty words or grand gestures, but this. Him. Andrew, stripped of all his armor, offering himself without the protection of his reputation or his club or his careful control.
Just him.
"That's one wager I want to lose," she whispered.
Hope flared in his eyes. "Does that mean?—"
"It means I'm willing to take the risk." She moved toward him, closing the distance between them.
He took her hands, his grip warm and certain. Tears pricked her eyes. "You really figured it out."
"I had help." His thumb stroked across her knuckles. "Norman came and knocked some sense into me. Told me I was being an idiot."
"Your cousin is quite intelligent."
"Don't tell him that. His head is already too big." Andrew's smile faded into something more serious. "Isobel, I'm sorry. For all of it."
She kissed him.
It was impulse, pure and simple. She couldn't listen to another word without touching him, without showing him that she forgave him, that she loved him, that she was choosing him too.
He made a sound of surprise, then his arms came around her, pulling her close. The kiss was different from their others, less about heat and more about homecoming. About finding something lost. About choosing each other when it would have been easier to walk away.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, she saw tears on his cheeks.
"Is that a yes?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "Will you get in the carriage?"
"Where are we going?"
"I want to show you something." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, unashamed. "Something I bought. Something I hope will be ours."
"Ours?"
"If you'll have me back."
She should make him wait. Should protect herself against the possibility of being hurt again.
But she was done with fear. Done with protecting herself at the cost of happiness.
