But he kept walking. That was what mattered.
They reached the centre of the ballroom.
And Christian stopped.
The silence was absolute.
Every eye was on them. Every breath was held. The orchestra had stopped playing entirely, the musicians frozen with their bows raised, waiting to see what would happen next.
Christian turned to face the crowd.
His expression was calm—terrifyingly calm, the stillness before a storm. His dark eyes swept across the assembled guests, taking in the shock, the curiosity, the barely concealed revulsion on some faces. He saw it all. He acknowledged it all.
And then he spoke.
“I know what you are thinking.” His voice carried easily, that deep rumble which had once reminded Fiona of distant thunder. “You are thinking the rumours are true—that the Beast of Thornwick has at last emerged from his lair. That you are looking upon a monster—a freak of nature, a cursed creature who ought to have remained hidden away where he could not offend your sensibilities.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Someone gasped. Someone else gave a nervous laugh.
“You are wrong.” Christian’s voice hardened. “I am not a monster. I am a man—a man who has spent his life being told he was unworthy of love, unfit for society, too monstrous to be looked upon. For many years, I believed it. I hid myself away. I let fear rule my life. I convinced myself that isolation was the same as safety.”
He turned to Fiona, and his expression softened.
“And then I met her.”
Fiona felt tears sting her eyes.
“She quite literally crashed into my life during a storm—on a cliff road not far from my castle. I carried her inside, expecting nothing, wanting nothing except to do my duty and send her on her way. But she refused to flinch from me. She refused to see the monster everyone else saw.”
His voice caught.
“She saw a man. A lonely, frightened man who had forgotten what it meant to be loved. And she loved me anyway.”
The murmurs faded. The ballroom fell utterly silent; every gaze fixed upon him.
“I was a fool,” Christian continued, his voice gathering strength. “A coward. I pushed her away, convincing myself I was protecting her when in truth I was only too afraid to believeI deserved her. I let her leave. I spent weeks in misery telling myself it was for the best—when every moment without her was agony.”
He reached for Fiona’s hand and lifted it to his lips.
“But I am done being afraid. I am done hiding. I am done allowing the opinions of people who do not know me to determine the course of my life.” His gaze swept the room, fierce and unyielding. “I love this woman. I intend to marry her. She has agreed to be my wife, my partner, my duchess. And anyone who objects—”
He paused, letting the silence stretch.
“—may take the matter up with me directly.”
For a long, breathless moment, no one moved.
Then Fiona laughed.
The sound burst from somewhere deep within her—joy and relief and sheer, giddy disbelief. This impossible man, who had spent his life hiding from the world, had just declared his love for her before the entire ton. He had laid bare his heart, challenged society itself, and done it all for her.
She stepped forward and threw her arms around his neck.
“Christian,” she said softly.
The single word carried everything she felt.
He tightened his hold on her fingers, his gaze searching her face as though he feared this moment might vanish if he looked away.
