Charlotte’s chest tightened again.
“I am happy,” she admitted quietly.
“So am I.”
The words seemed to settle warmly between them. For so long both of them had fought against this connection with stubborn determination. Now Charlotte could scarcely understand how either of them had survived pretending not to care.
Victor kissed her forehead softly. Then her nose. Then finally her lips again.
“You know,” Charlotte murmured against his mouth, “for a man who once claimed marriage would ruin him, you seem rather content.”
“I was clearly an idiot.”
“That much is true.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Careful, Duchess.”
Charlotte smiled against his lips. “Or what?”
“Or I shall continue tumbling with you until morning.”
Her cheeks warmed immediately.
Victor laughed softly at her expression before pulling her close once more. Charlotte rested against him happily, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. His fingers stroked lazily along her back while candlelight danced softly around the room.
For the first time since meeting him, there was no fear between them.
No pretending. No distance. Only warmth and laughter and aching love.
And as Victor kissed her once more beneath the soft glow of candlelight, Charlotte realized…
I have never felt so loved and safe in my entire life. Instead of taking care of everyone, someone is now taking care of me and I him…forever.
EPILOGUE
The drawing room at Mulford Manor glowed warmly beneath dozens of candles set within crystal sconces and silver candelabras. Golden light danced over polished wood floors, marble fireplaces, and richly embroidered curtains the color of deep wine. Footmen moved quietly through the rooms carrying trays of champagne, ratafia, and wine while soft music drifted from the pianoforte in the corner. Charlotte stood near the entrance beside Victor and felt her heart swell at the sight of the manor so alive with warmth and laughter.
A few months ago, the house had felt vast and lonely despite its grandeur. Now conversation echoed through every corridor while guests moved comfortably between the drawing room, supper room, and terrace gardens. Casual dancing had begun near the pianoforte, where younger guests laughed through country dances without the stiffness of a formal ball. Charlotte realized with sudden emotion that Mulford Manor no longer felt like Victor’s home alone.
It feels like ours.
Victor leaned close beside her. “You are staring about the room as though you expect the walls to collapse.”
Charlotte smiled faintly. “I was merely admiring everything.”
“You organized nearly all of it, a proper Duchess with great hosting abilities to be envied by all the matrons.”
“Indeed, I may admire my own accomplishments,” she teased.
His lips twitched. “Dangerous behavior in a duchess.”
Charlotte laughed softly as his hand settled warmly against the small of her back. Even months into marriage, his touch still sent warmth fluttering through her chest. He seemed incapable of passing her without touching her somehow, whether by brushing her hand, kissing her temple, or tugging her teasingly against him. Charlotte had once believed such attentiveness would fade after marriage.
Instead, Victor seemed worse.
Her sisters were gathered near the card tables, already causing noise enough for twice their number. Joan waved dramatically while holding a glass of lemonade.
“Charlotte!” Joan called loudly. “Irene is cheating again.”
