Page 92 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

“I remember watching you as we danced at our wedding,” William murmured, his hand warm at her waist as they moved together with practiced grace. “How perfectly you maintained proper form while I held myself so carefully distant. Though even then...”

“Even then?” Charlotte prompted softly when he paused.

“Even then, some part of me recognised the treasure being offered,” he admitted quietly. “Though fear of vulnerability made me resist far longer than wisdom might have suggested.”

Lord Westbridge and Edmund had drawn aside, their soft conversation providing gentle background to Margaret’s music. Yet Charlotte hardly noticed their discretion, her attention fixed on William’s face as he gazed down at her with such tenderness.

“No time was wasted,” she whispered, letting her hand tighten slightly on his shoulder. “When each careful step of our journey brought us here, to this perfect understanding.”

The winter morning light through the tall windows caught William’s rare smile - not the careful one he showed to society, but the warm, unguarded expression that she had come to treasure as particularly her own. As the waltz drew to its close, he bent to murmur in her ear...

“What say you,” William murmured, his deep voice pitched for her ears alone, “to extending our celebration into this evening? Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, after all? Certain traditions await restoration, and I find myself unable to imagine joy more perfect than sharing such moments with you.”

Before Charlotte could respond, Mrs. Walden appeared in the doorway with a smile that indicated her pleasure in the morning’s events.

“Your Grace,” she addressed them both with formality, “Cook wishes to review the arrangements for tomorrow evening’s Christmas Eve dinner. And the garlands for the great hall await your final approval.”

“Of course,” Charlotte began, but William’s hand tightened fractionally around hers.

“A moment more,” he said softly, his grey eyes holding hers with tender gravity. “I find myself needing to tell my wife...”

“Brother dear!” Margaret’s voice carried from the pianoforte with clear emphasis. “Surely you don’t mean to keep Charlotte from her duties as hostess? When particular celebrations approach, and certain surprises also still await?”

The look William gave Charlotte held joy, tenderness and anticipation, all, even now, somewhat masked beneath his usual reserve, yet clearly visible to one who had learned to read him so well. Their renewed vows seemed to hover in the air between them, profound promises waiting to be fulfilled in every shared moment yet to come.

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, then finished his sentence in a whisper.

“Just how much I love her.”

Then he released her to her duties.