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“Do you wish to wed?”

Her heart leapt at the sight of him. “Yes! When?”

Simon pulled out a gold timepiece, studying it with mock seriousness. “How about … now? Unless you would prefer to wait?”

The past few weeks flashed through her mind, followed quickly by memories of their decade apart. “Truly? Right now?”

He grinned. “If it pleases you?”

She would like nothing more. Life had thrown so many obstacles in the way that she needed not a second more to tick away. Any future trouble they faced would be as man and wife, if they wed this evening.

Madeline glanced down at her silk dress. “Is this why Miss Moreau dressed me in my best evening gown?”

Her mother grinned across the table. “Of course.”

“Have you made some sort of arrangements?”

“Why not collect your pelisse and we shall see?”

Madeline darted, knocking over her chair in her haste as Henri mumbled in complaint. Soon, they were in the hall, Simon and a footman assisting them into their outer garments.

“You knew of this?” she asked her twin. Henri gave a knowing smile, indicating her assent. “You kept it a secret?”

“Henri is not good at keeping secrets,” laughed their mother. “She was told this afternoon because she had to assist in the arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” Madeline was elated at the possibilities.

“You shall see.” Henri was smug, clearly pleased to be privy to information that Madeline was not.

They stepped out into the crisp night, Madeline’s hand tucked into Simon’s arm. The warmth of him bled through the fabric of his coat, the solid strength beneath her palm as comforting as the silver moonlight that spilled across their path.

Entering the archway, she found people waiting for them along with fragrant hothouse flowers bedecking the ornate urn in the middle. Lord Blackwood was seated in an armchair that had been brought from the house. Nicholas was sitting on the bench next to Molly with his long legs sprawled out, and Lady and Lord Trafford along with Uncle Reggie were admiring the stone gods peering down at them, lit by lanterns throughout the garden.

Madeline greeted each in turn, until Simon drew her over to meet a rounded vicar in vestments, introducing him as Reverend Stone. He seemed quite jolly as he introduced his smiling wife with a friendly chuckle.

Then they gathered together as Rev. Stone angled his pages to catch light from one of the lanterns, and in their celestial garden, Psyche and Eros were united in matrimony.

In the weeks since his mother’s suicide, it had become increasingly clear to him how his malevolent parent had influenced his thoughts, using his guilt over Nicholas’s accident to manipulate his decisions until he barely recognized the shadow of the man he had become.

He had sworn to do his duty ever since Nicholas had fallen from the window. The fear that failing to do so might cause some new, terrible event had been ever-present since that night.

But he was finding his footing, the boldness of his youth quietly seeping back, fleshing out his soul and restoring his spirits and energy. The journey to Scotland had helped him sort through his thoughts, and having the irrepressible Trafford as a confidant was certainly aiding the process of his return to himself.

Simon held Madeline’s hand as they walked back to his home. It was not proper, but given recent events, he doubted anyone would complain, except perhaps the vicar, which was why they had fallen to the back of the group.

Her hand felt delicate in his grasp, and he was filled with relieved satisfaction that she had accepted his proposal. Despite their long history, he was surprised by how nerve-racking it had been to make the offer to the woman he admired above all others. If she had declined, his world would have shattered. But now, they were here, side by side.

The time for duty had passed, and Madeline was now his duty. His obsession. His passion.

“We are wed!” Madeline’s voice brimmed with wonder.

It was brilliant to be home. Being away in the north had only made him appreciate what he had waiting for him in London. Once he had confirmed the details of his inheritance and the responsibilities of his titles, he had rushed back, changing horses through the night to reach his beloved Psyche.

As part of his financial planning, he had invested in the manufactory, securing his place as an equal partner rather than a charity case for Eleanor Bigsby. This had been his most fervent wish. To unite with Madeline and guide Bigsby’s into a new era. He had worried about making these decisions without consulting her, but he believed they had discussed their dreams enough over the years. Eleanor had even agreed to cancel the negotiation if Madeline was unhappy with the arrangement. Thankfully, she was more than satisfied with the direction their future was taking.

When they reached the house, Nicholas held the door open, his lips twitching as Simon let go of Madeline’s hand. They followed their guests into the dining room, the space aglow with the shimmer of glass and silver reflecting the light from oil lamps. Tall candles flickered in a faint draught, cooling the room’s heat. He and Mrs. Bigsby had timed their return so that Madeline had not eaten much earlier, ensuring her favorite foods would be enjoyed during their wedding supper.

Meanwhile, Duncan and Simon’s valet were moving his belongings into her bedchamber so they could retire to her home together. It might have been disloyal to admit, but Simon was thrilled to join the Bigsby household, which had been an oasis of peace during his youth. It was a relief to leave the past behind after the nightmarish events that had transpired here