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“I have thought about this quite seriously,” he said, a faint smile touching his mouth. Though his hands were not entirely steady. “Despite what Caroline might tell you about my judgment.” Elizabeth gave a trembling laugh and pressed her fingers to her lips. He took both her hands in his and held them against his chest. “Will you marry me?”

She looked at him, at the man who had waited for her answers and listened when they came. He waited now, his composure less certain than she had once believed, a faint tremor in the hands holding hers. She loved that he had let her see it.

“Yes.”

His hands tightened around hers, hard enough to hurt. “Yes?”

“Yes, I shall marry you,” she said, laughing and crying together.

He rose and drew her to her feet, gathering her into an embrace that left her laughing against his shoulder. Her feet nearly lifting from the carpet... She held him just as closely, her cheek pressed to his coat, her arms tight around his neck. She had been happy before he asked. She had thought herself as happy as she could reasonably be, content in her small, quiet life.

Apparently, she had been mistaken. After a while, he eased back enough to look at her, his hands warm at her waist. “I had intended to make a rather better speech,” he said, with a rueful laugh.

“I liked this one,” she said.

“I had things to say about our life together.”

“You may still say them,” she said, wiping her eyes.

His expression softened, tender and a little shy. “I want you to be comfortable in our home. I want to know your preferences, even when they differ from mine. And when something troubles you, I hope you will tell me.”

Elizabeth touched his sleeve, smoothing the wool with her fingertips. “I shall try.”

“That is all I ask,” he said.

She considered the future he offered. Unfamiliar rooms and people would come, awkward moments, and decisions they would have to make together. Love hadn't made those things disappear, and she didn't pretend it had. But she could imagine turning to him when they came, and the thought was a quiet, steady comfort. “I may still be quiet in company,” she said.

“I know.” He smiled. “I don’t want to change you. I only ask that you allow me to love you.”

“I would like nothing more,” she told him. “And I shall probably prefer a small wedding.”

“I hoped you would,” he admitted.

She searched his face, her brows drawing together. “Truly?”

“Truly,” he said. “Though we must permit Caroline to attend, or neither of us will ever hear the end of it,” he said, his eyes warm with humor.

Elizabeth smiled. “I am looking forward to meeting her.”

“She will be delighted.” He paused, a wry curve touching his mouth. “And unbearably pleased that I have finally done something of which she approves.”

“I am glad to be of assistance in that,” she said, amused.

Julian laughed and kissed her again, his arms tightening around her. This time, when they sat, she settled close beside him without waiting for an invitation. His arm came around her shoulders, warm and secure, and she took his hand in her lap, lacing their fingers together.

“We shall have to tell Charlotte,” she said, and the thought of it made her smile. She tilted her head against his shoulder, picturing her friend’s face.

“I suspect Lady Sylvan will be less surprised than we were,” he said, his thumb tracing slow circles over her knuckles.

“She will be very pleased.” Elizabeth’s eyes stung with sudden gratitude. She squeezed his hand. Charlotte had coaxed her out of her quiet little life and handed her an invitation she had almost refused.

“I hope so,” he said, a small note of nervousness slipping into his voice. He looked down at her, and she saw how much he wanted her friend’s good opinion, and how much he wanted it for her sake.

Elizabeth looked toward the flowers beside the window. She had spent so long deciding where to place them, as though the room needed to be perfect before he arrived. The petals had begun to open in the warmth, soft and pink in the afternoon sun.

Now the tea had cooled, the book lay forgotten on the cushion, and she was sitting close enough to crease his coat. She could not have wished for anything better.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, tilting his head to look at her.