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She had feared, despite herself, that the garden had made everything easier. That the moonlight and the scent of roses had cast a spell. Perhaps they would sit together in London and discover that their affection depended upon solitude and open air. Instead, he made her laugh over a carpenter, a real, unguarded laugh that shook her shoulders. She told him which chair she preferred for reading, gesturing toward it with her cup.

“This one?” he asked, looking toward the window.

“Yes,” she said. “Though the light leaves it by late afternoon.”

“You would like the room in my house that is much like this one then.”

“I should like to see it,” she said, her voice soft.

Julian set down his cup, the china chiming faintly against the saucer. “You shall.”

Something in his voice made her turn toward him, her pulse quickening. He was no longer smiling. His attention rested on her with a seriousness she recognized from moments when he had asked something that mattered. His gaze steady and slightly vulnerable.

Elizabeth put her cup upon the table, her hand not quite steady. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He reached for her hand, and his fingers closed around hers, warm. “Nothing is wrong. But there is something I have wanted to tell you since before we left Lady Wetherby’s.” Her fingers settled into his. She heard a carriage pass outside, the sound briefly loud in the quiet room. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed to fill her ears. “I tried to find a suitable moment,” he continued. “Then I began to think I ought to wait until I called upon you.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I wanted to say it here, in the afternoon,” he began. “When you could be quite certain I meant more than another meeting in the garden.”

Elizabeth held very still, barely breathing. He glanced down at their joined hands, then back at her, his green eyes bright and earnest. “I love you.” She had imagined hearing the words. In the carriage, in bed last night, even while arranging the flowers. She had allowed herself brief, hopeful thoughts of what he might say, tucking them away like pressed petals. None had prepared her for the quiet certainty of his voice, or for the way it made her chest ache. “I did not expect it,” he said. “I came to the house party thinking of a few days away from London. Then I met you, and I began wanting another conversation before the first had ended.”

Her eyes stung, and she blinked rapidly.

“I found myself looking for you in every room,” he continued. “Yesterday, I returned to my own house and spent most of the evening thinking of things I wished you were there to hear.”

Elizabeth pressed his hand between hers, holding it as if it were something precious. “I know,” she whispered.

His expression shifted, his brows lifting. “You know?”

“I have been doing the same thing,” she told him.

For a moment, he simply looked at her, his lips parting. Then his free hand covered hers, warm and large, enclosing them both. She drew a breath. He had trusted her with the words. She wouldn't leave him waiting while she tried to find a more graceful way to answer, and the courage steadied her. “I love you too, Julian.”

His smile came slowly, with such unmistakable relief that she nearly laughed and cried at once. “You do?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded, and a tear slipped onto her cheek. “It surprised me. All of it did. I thought I might enjoy a little conversation with you. Perhaps a walk.”

“And you have endured rather more of both,” he said gently.

She laughed, brushing at her cheek with her knuckles. “I have been very happy.”

He lifted a hand to her face, his thumb catching the tear she had missed, so tenderly that her throat closed. “So have I.”

Elizabeth leaned into his touch and closed her eyes for a moment. She had never thought herself particularly brave, but telling him the truth left her wishing she could say more. Almost as though a door had opened and a warm wind rushed through.

“When I came home, I kept thinking how strange it was that I wanted someone here. I am usually content alone.” She looked around the familiar room, at the worn chairs and the flowers in the window. “Yesterday, I wanted to tell you about everything. Nothing important. Only the things that happened.”

“I should like to hear them.” He smiled.

“I know.” She smiled back, her eyes shining. “That is part of why I love you.”

He kissed her then, gently, with his hand still against her cheek. Elizabeth moved closer and rested her palm on his chest, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart. She was grateful she no longer had to disguise how much she wanted him.

When he drew back, he rested his forehead briefly against hers, their breath mingling. “I want a future with you,” he said, low and earnest. “More than calls and invitations, though I intend to offer you a great many of those.”

Her heart began to beat harder, thudding against her ribs. He moved from the sofa and knelt before her, one knee pressing into the carpet. “Julian,” she breathed.