Something in his expression gave way, not pride, not triumph, but recognition.As though he had been searching for himself and, somehow, she had drawn the answer.
He lifted his gaze to her, eyes bright with something fierce and reverent.“Then,” he said softly, “I will spend the rest of my life trying to deserve it.”
She smiled through her tears, and this time, when he pulled her into his arms, there was nothing uncertain left between them at all.
“And now everything will fall apart,” she said, voice cracking.“Hargrave is furious.Mother shall faint.Father will probably challenge you to a duel.Society will run wild with it.The papers will?—”
“Bea.”Nicholas squeezed her hands gently.“Look at me.”
She did.And the anguish in her eyes nearly brought him to his knees.
“I know what you risked,” he said softly.“I know what will come of it.And still—still—you stepped forward.You stood in that chamber.You told the truth.”
She closed her eyes as tears slipped down.“I couldn’t let you stand alone.”
He brushed one tear from her cheek with the lightest touch.“I will never forget what you did today.”
She swallowed hard.“And I will never forgive myself for doubting you,” she whispered.“For thinking, even for a moment, that you would ever reveal my secret.That you would use it to hurt me.That was cruel of me.It was unfair.You have every right to hate me.”
His jaw clenched, not with anger, but with the force of what he felt for her.“Bea, I could never hate you…even if I tried.”
She let out a sound between a sob and a laugh.
Nicholas brushed his thumb over her knuckles.“I was hurt,” he said, voice quieter now.“That is true.Last night in your sitting room, when you said you didn’t want me to marry you, that you were releasing me… That hurt.A great deal.”
She flinched.“I know.”
“But the hurt came not from rejection,” Nicholas continued, “but from the belief that you didn’t trust me.That you didn’t want to marry me.”
Bea blinked up at him.“I thought I was protecting you.”
“And I,” he murmured, “was hoping you would not let me go.”
She sucked in her breath.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.“I meant every word I said today,” he told her.“You changed me.You challenged me.You made me think.And today…you made me braver than I have ever been.”
Her eyes shone again.
“Then I’m glad,” she whispered.“Even if everything else falls apart.”
Nicholas cupped her cheek, gently turning her face toward his.“Everything will fall into place,” he said softly.“Not apart.”
Her lips trembled.
He rested his forehead against hers.“You are remarkable,” he whispered.“You are clever and fierce and honest and brilliant.And I want to be by your side, not because of obligation.Not because of politics or lineage.”His voice softened, reverent.“But because you are the woman I choose.”
Her breath stopped.
Nicholas drew back just enough to see her face clearly.Then, very slowly, he slid to one knee before her in the rocking carriage and took her hand in his.
Bea gasped softly, free hand flying to her mouth.
Nicholas looked up at her with unguarded devotion.“I don’t care what your father says.I don’t care what Parliament says.I don’t care what the papers scream tomorrow morning.I do not care what the world believes we should be.”
He squeezed her hand.“You are B.Adroit.You are Beatrix Winslow.And you are everything I want.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks.
