She laughed, low and warm, then pulled him tight against her. Her mouth found his, sealing the space between them before she drew back just enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes were deep amber, darkened by the night.
“I love you back,” she whispered. “Although I knowexactlyhow to manage it.”
His mouth curved. “As I suspect, since you’ve been managing me from the start.”
“Thank you for the gifts, Ever.” Her fingertip traced the shell of his ear, sending goosebumps dancing along his skin. “I’ll treasure them. The stone is already smooth from my touch.”
A quiet breath left him. “Derbyshire’s in my heart. You’re part of it, part of me.”
Her lashes trembled.
There will never be a better time.
Heart thumping, Ever reached into his coat pocket and drew out a velvet box, its crimson fabric worn soft. The hinge gave a faint sigh as he opened it. Inside, a blue sapphire caught the light, encircled by small diamonds set in a gold band dulled by age. His mother’s ring, passed down from her mother.
Nothing his father had ever touched.
“She would have loved you,” he said quietly. “So much.”
Isabella’s fingers stilled at his nape. “Oh…”
A spike of nerves hit him, and Ever forced his shoulders to loosen before he spoke. “I don’t want to wait, sprite. I care about what we want—not society, not their demands. But there are burdens tied to the title: Langley Park, the tenants, the villagers.” His jaw tightened. “Being my countess won’t be simple. Scrutiny. Expectation. Eyes on you at every turn. But you’ve never asked for simple. And I promise, I won’t try to change you.”
Isabella went utterly still, and the silence stretched.
“My solicitor can secure a special license,” he said, sliding the ring onto her finger. “I want you now, if you’ll have me. I won’t let another night pass without knowing.”
Isabella stared, lips parted as though a word had lost its way.
Theword.
An uncertain breath left him. He cupped her face, drawing her shaken gaze to his. “Sprite,” he murmured, half exasperated, half undone—always undone with her. “You’re killing me. Where’s myyes?”
She stayed frozen a beat, lashes lowering, lifting. Then herhand lowered, not to push him away, but to press flat against his chest as though confirming he was real.
“Do you truly imagine,” she said, her voice trembling despite her best effort, “that I would endure an unexpected visit to a clandestine surgeon—and the small matter of you leaving me in Derbyshire—without intending to be your wife? An abandonment you will explain to me soon.”
Relief cracked through him, bright and almost boyish. “You’re certain?”
“Entirely,” she returned, and rose to her toes to seal it herself.
A throat cleared from the far end of the terrace.
Ever turned to find his future brother-in-law standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, trying and failing to look innocent. “If this is the part where someone faints,” Weston called, “I should warn you the guests have begun wagering.”
Ever started to explain, but Isabella pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing him. The sapphire flashed in the moonlight.
Weston’s gaze dropped to her hand, his spectacle lenses flashing. “That explains the wagering.”
“Let them be scandalized,” Ever said. “They’ll recover.”
“Agreed. But come inside before they decide you’ve eloped,” Weston said, shifting aside. “We’ll announce what needs announcing. I’m fairly certain someone’s already found the champagne.”
Ever laced his fingers through Isabella’s. “Do you hear that, sprite? We have a life to begin.”
And when he led her inside, he didn’t look back.
Epilogue
