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It had been a rather surprising bit of news to receive, but as it happened, a distant relative of theirs had passed, and with no heirs of his own, Rowland ended up as a successor of the dukedom. He had been momentarily overwhelmed by the news, especially because great power was often accompanied by great responsibility, and he had quite a bit of affairs to handle in accordance with his new title.

“You are rather a good match, now,” Anna pointed out, unable to resist teasing him. “A title, an income, reasonably pleasant features. You cannot fault them their enthusiasm.”

“I can, and I shall, at considerable volume if it continues,” Rowland muttered, though there was no real heat in it. “I have quite enough occupying me at present without adding a wife to the endeavor.”

“No one is asking you to marry tonight, Rowland.”

“Tell that to Lady Plumton, who has already introduced me to no fewer than three of her nieces within the space of ten minutes.” Rowland cast a wary glance across the room, as though expecting further ambush at any moment. “One of them attempted to discuss the merits of watercolor painting with me for a full quarter hour. I know nothing of watercolors, Anna. I was obliged to nod along like a fool the entire time.”

“Perhaps you might have simply told her so.”

“And risk her mother’s wrath? I have seen what these women do to gentlemen who disappoint their daughters in public. I would rather face a French cannon.”

Anna laughed, delighted despite herself at her brother’s evident suffering. “You survived a trial, an inheritance, and considerably worse company than a discussion of watercolors, Rowland. I have faith you shall endure the Season.”

“I begin to understand now why you were so reluctant to marry, before circumstance forced the matter,” Rowland said, ignoring her teasing entirely.

“I was never reluctant to marry,” Anna said. “Only reluctant to marry poorly. I suspect you share the sentiment more than you admit.”

Rowland did not dignify that with a response, though the faint color that rose in his cheeks suggested she had struck rather closer to the mark than he cared to acknowledge.

“In any case,” he added, after a moment, clearly eager to redirect the conversation away from himself, “You look happy, Anna. Genuinely happy, not merely performing contentment for the sake of the guests. I confess I did not expect to see it, given how badly this all began.”

“Neither did I,” Anna admitted. “But here we are, regardless.”

“Here we are,” Rowland agreed, and for a moment, something soft and unguarded passed between them – the particular understanding of siblings who had weathered a great deal together, and come, at last, to a shore neither had quite dared hope for.

Cornelius and Edith arrived together, and Anna watched with quiet satisfaction as they made their way through the receiving line, greeted by curious but not unkind glances from the assembled guests. The scandal of their courtship had not entirely faded from memory, but a formal engagement, announced properly and celebrated openly, went some distance toward smoothing over whatever lingering gossip remained, and Anna suspected that within a season or two, the whole affair would be remembered as little more than a romantic curiosity rather than a genuine disgrace.

“You look lovely, my dear,” Anna told Edith, embracing her warmly once the receiving line had finally cleared.

“I am happier than I believed myself capable of being, only a few months past,” Edith admitted. “I owe a great deal of that happiness to your patience with us, Anna. I do not think I shall ever fully repay the debt.”

“You owe me nothing beyond your continued friendship,” Anna refuted. “That has always been repayment enough.”

“Nonetheless,” Cornelius began, joining them with a faint, wry smile, “We intend to make it known for as long as possible that we owe you quite a bit. Until we have properly atoned.”

“You can do so by living a good life. I will feel rewarded if you both remain happy and in love for years to come,” Anna proposed with a smile.

Cornelius glanced at Edith, then he nodded.

“I suppose we could do that.”

Anna nodded as well. “Wonderful. That is all I could ever hope for. Now off you go – do enjoy yourselves!”

Before long, the whole party had gathered near the edge of the dance floor – Phoebe and Edward, Rowland still valiantly evading matrimonial ambush, Cornelius and Edith glowing with their newly public happiness, and Hudson at Anna’s side, his hand resting warm and steady at the small of her back. Anna glanced around at all of them, struck by the sheer unlikely joy of the gathering: a year ago, she could not have imagined this particular assembly of people standing together so easily, laughing over shared jokes and old grievances long since settled.

“We ought to have done this sooner,” Phoebe said, echoing Anna’s own thought aloud. “All of us, together, without scandal or secrecy hanging over any of it.”

“We are doing it now,” Edward supplied mildly, “Which I have found, in my own experience, tends to matter rather more than when precisely one arrives at happiness.”

Owen arrived shortly after, sweeping an exaggerated bow before Anna that drew an unwilling laugh from her despite herself.

“Your Grace,” he said, “Might I say, these grounds have never looked finer, nor its host and hostess more thoroughly reformed. I confess I hardly recognize either of you from the miserable creatures I once knew.”

“You wound me, Owen,” Hudson said, appearing beside them with a mock-affronted expression.

“I merely observe, Your Grace, that a man who once threw punches at the mere mention of matrimony now looks fit to burst from happiness at the sight of his own wife across a crowded room. It is a remarkable transformation, and I intend to remind you of it at every opportunity for the remainder of our acquaintance.”