Page 89 of Courting Elizabeth

“I prefer not to weaken my proposal with an excess of accuracy.”

I pressed her hand between mine.

“Knowing all of him, would you choose him still?”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“Yes.”

“Out of love?”

“Out of love.”

I raised her fingers to my lips. They smelled of ink and Pemberley soap.

“Stand up,” she murmured. “I do not like seeing you so far from me.”

I rose. She immediately put her arms around my neck.

Our kiss contained Hunsford, the silences of our engagement, the patience of Pemberley, and all the words we had held back.

I kissed her again, unable to get enough of the sweetness of her words.

“You're becoming demanding.”

“Terribly so.”

“I love you, Fitzwilliam.”

I rested my forehead against hers.

“I thought I would never know whether to believe you.”

“And now?”

“I will likely never be certain I deserve what you give me. But I can choose to believe you.”

Her gaze softened.

“Then do so. And when you doubt, ask me instead of deciding my answer for me.”

“I promise.”

“Even if it displeases you?”

“Especially then.”

She placed my hand over her heart.

“This belongs to you because I give it to you.”

I felt her heartbeat beneath my palm.

“And mine belonged to you before I had the wisdom to ask you to accept it.”

“We were remarkably ill-prepared for happiness.”

“And yet very determined to marry.”