"I will tolerate it. There is a difference." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "Though I suppose if this is the price of having you, it is worth paying."
"Such flattery."
"I am merely being honest." He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You are the only good thing about this evening, Vanessa. The only thing that makes any of it bearable."
"Now you are being dramatic."
"I am being truthful. The drama is incidental." He smiled that private smile she was learning to recognise, the one he reserved only for her. "Have I told you today that I simply cherish you?"
"Several times."
"Then I shall tell you again." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur.
“My affections are no longer under my control. I cherish you with a force that defies reason and scorns propriety. It is a devotion that utterly unmans me.”
"Martin…"
"I am not finished." His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. "I adore the way you argue with me and the way you laugh at me. I worship the way your eyes light up when you are about to say something cutting. I cherish that you wrote letters to me for six years and never once lost hope, even when you had every reason to."
"I lost hope many times."
"But you kept writing. That is what matters." He pressed his forehead to hers. "I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you. I want you to know that. Whatever comes…whatever challenges we face…I will never stop trying to be worthy of the woman who threw a cushion at my head and changed my life forever."
She was crying now…soft, silent tears that slipped down her cheeks despite her best efforts to contain them.
"You are going to ruin my reputation," she whispered. "Dukes are not supposed to be this romantic."
"I am redefining expectations." He kissed away a tear from her cheek. "Besides, I have a reputation to rehabilitate. What better way than excessive devotion to my wife?"
"I am not your wife yet."
"A technicality I intend to remedy as quickly as possible." He pulled back slightly, reaching into his coat pocket. "Which reminds me…I believe I promised you a proper proposal. With a ring and candlelight and all the romantic trappings."
Vanessa's breath caught. "Martin…"
"This is not the most romantic setting, I admit. We are hiding behind a curtain while your mother's guests consume alarming quantities of champagne. But I find I cannot wait another moment." He withdrew a small velvet box from his pocket. "I have carried this with me all day, waiting for the right moment. I suspect there is no such thing as the right moment, there is only the moment you choose to take."
He opened the box.
Inside, nestled against dark velvet, was a ring. It was not the ostentatious display she might have expected from a duke, no massive diamonds or elaborate settings. Instead, it was elegant and understated: a deep green emerald surrounded by small diamonds, set in delicate gold filigree.
"It was my grandmother's," Martin said softly. "She was, by all accounts, a formidable woman. Sharp-tongued, quick-witted, utterly unimpressed by rank or fortune. My grandfather used to say she was the only person who ever told him the truth." He met her eyes. "She would have liked you, I think."
"Martin…"
"Vanessa Wayworth." He took her hand in his, his grip warm and steady. "I have held you in the highest esteem you in silence for six years. I have adored you through arguments and dances and countless small moments you probably do not even remember. I have cherished you when I thought I had no right to, and when I thought you could never return those feelings."
"I always returned my sentiments for you.”
"I know that now. And I intend to spend the rest of my life making up for the years we lost." He raised her hand to his lips. "Will you do me the honours of becoming my wife? Will you argue with me and challenge me and throw cushions at my head when I am being insufferable? Will you let me cherish and worship you, openly and completely, for as long as we both shall live?"
The tears were flowing freely now. She did not bother to wipe them away.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, I will become your wife. Yes to all of it."
His face transformed showing his immense relief and joy and something that looked almost like disbelief, as though he had not quite allowed himself to believe she would say yes until the word left her lips.
He let out a long sigh. "I was beginning to worry I had ruined the moment with excessive verbosity."
