Her words were cut short when he touched another sweet kiss to her lips. When she was well and truly dazed again, he added, “Your father has nothing to do with this, Marian. Nothing at all.”
George paused, his gaze breaking from hers as he searched his thoughts, though his hands did not release her. Not that Marian would’ve allowed him to.
“I don’t know when it happened precisely, but I realized my mistake quite some time ago.” He winced and then leaned his forehead against hers, his whole pained expression filling her view. “I had to banish you from my thoughts, Marian. I knew my youthful folly had cast aside something beautiful, but I couldn’t undo my mistake. Not at that time. So, I would not allow you into my life. I couldn’t do that to myself or Juliette. And I assumed you did the same and found someone else who was not as great a fool as I was.”
Marian was certain she was physically capable of breathing, but her lungs were determined to prove differently, for they would not function.
“And then I saw you in the street.” George straightened, flashing her a self-deprecating smile. “I was certain you were not free, but I couldn’t help myself. I had to see you. I had to speak with you. Just one more time. And then I discovered you were unmarried.”
George’s breath hitched, and his eyes closed. When they opened again, there was so much of his heart shining in them. Pain and relief, despair and hope. Marian lifted her hand and touched his cheek, and George leaned into her touch, his hands sliding down to her waist.
“I want to marry you because I cannot bear the thought of losing you again. I want you bound to me, body and soul,” he whispered. “Marriage. Courting. Friendship. I will gladly accept whatever you give me. Just do not leave me, Marian.”
Her name was like a prayer on his lips. He spoke it with such reverence, adding its weight to his confession, and Marian was certain she would never breathe again. But gathering what little strength she had left to fill her lungs, she forced that uncooperative organ to function.
“Marriage sounds lovely,” she whispered.
George broke into a grin, and it filled the whole of him, making him beam inside and out like the veritable ray of sunshine he was. He kissed her once more, though the pair were both smiling far too much.
“Should we go tell our families?” he asked, his hands clasped together and resting on her lower back. Marian used the movement to shift even closer to him. Her skirts tangled about them, and she rested her hands against his chest, her fingers fiddling with the lapel.
“Are you afraid I will change my mind if we don’t announce it to the world?”
“A man cannot be too careful,” he replied with a chuckle.
Marian couldn’t help the small shudder in her heart that worried it would be he who changed his mind, but when her gaze rose from her fingers to his face, that fear evaporated beneath the warmth of his gaze. Holding that and his words close, she reveled in the knowledge that this was real. This was true.
“I am quite comfortable where I am,” she said with a smile, leaning closer until her lips brushed against his as she added, “I do not wish to move.”
George closed the distance, stealing yet another kiss, though she did not understand why they called it “stealing,” as she was quite willing to give him as many as he wanted. She was quite certain she would never get tired of kissing him, and without George’s arms anchoring her to the ground, she would float away.
But Marian broke the kiss first, realizing she had not said something that was entirely required at such a time. However, she forgot herself for a moment whilst gazing into George’s eyes. Good heavens, they were so very handsome.
George’s brow furrowed. “I know I have said it before, but it bears repeating, Marian. I am so very sorry—”
Taking a cue from him, Marian pressed her fingers to his lips, forestalling any further apologies. “I love you, George Finch. And I would much rather think of our future together than spend one more minute agonizing over our past.”
His only answer was another slow grin, his arms tightening around her before she gave in to impulse and stole a kiss of her own.
There were odd days in which rain fell even when the heavens blazed with sunlight, and Marian felt as though her stormy heart typified that at this very moment. Light filled it, coursing through her with its golden beams, yet tears filled her eyes, her soul sighing out in relief that George was well and truly hers. Tempest and sunshine, indeed.
But thoughts of weather, her father’s edict, and all the many people standing not far from them in the ballroom (whom they would have to face eventually) faded from her mind. The world itself disappeared until it was only Marian and her dear George.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Ahouse needed a butler. A footman at the very least. Or so George’s mother-in-law was fond of saying. Of course, it was generally in a hushed tone that one reserved for only the most scandalous affairs. And to her way of thinking, the fact that Mr. and Mrs. George Finch had only a single maid-of-all-work and a manservant was shocking to the highest degree. George couldn’t comprehend why his mother-in-law thought a home as small as Chulmleigh Cottage required anything more; frankly, they could likely do without the manservant, but as the fellow was a pleasant chap, needed the employment, and George could afford it, he was quite happy to do as Marian wished.
George sat at his desk, his newspaper spread before him as he fixed his gaze on the window. The garden was what he and Marian loved most about their home. Their landlords were clearly fond of growing things, for they had developed quite the Eden around the house, and Marian was equally fond of maintaining it. George simply enjoyed being out there with her, cuddled up on the bench they’d installed for such cozy moments.
The study door flew open with an exasperated, “You will not believe what happened today!”
Marian strode in with her dander so thoroughly up that George struggled not to laugh. Pacing before his desk, she began a detailed account of all the silliness that had plagued her latest charitable undertaking, and George rose to his feet, taking her by the hand and leading her towards the sofa.
As their cottage had included furnishings, they hadn’t needed to purchase any themselves. However, George thought the lack of sofas rather telling about the Smiths’ marriage. There was nothing finer than curling up before a fire with his wife nestled into his side. And so, Marian had set about purchasing several and scattering them throughout the rooms, including his study. Her tirade did not ebb as George settled her there and took the seat beside her. Without pausing for breath, she shifted until she was nestled into the crook of his arm, her fingers rising to fiddle with his waistcoat buttons as she vented her spleen.
“But you would be proud of me, George,” she said, angling her head to look at him. “It’s as though the ladies have no sense at all, but as much as I wanted to rail against all of Mrs. Norwich’s ideas, I picked my battles well and made some improvements. And without the meeting devolving into a battle.”
