Page 53 of The Duke’s Hidden Runaway Bride

“You are free,” he said. “Whatever comes next belongs to you.”

Her lips parted.

“I cleared what road I could, but you freed yourself. I will not decide what follows.”

The room had gone still enough that he could hear the musicians shifting in their chairs. The weight of all eyes was on him.

Adrian looked only at Ophelia.

“I love you. Will you marry me?”

Then he stepped back, folded his hands behind him, and waited.

Chapter Nineteen

He stepped back.

Of everything Adrian had done for her, that small movement was the thing that nearly undid Ophelia. She had to swallow hard against the sudden thickness rising in her throat.

All her life, men had crowded her with their decisions. Her father had chosen a husband. Markham had chosen the use he would make of her. Even love had too often reached her as a future already arranged.

Adrian had opened what doors he could and then stepped away from the last one, leaving her to choose it for herself.

Before the society that had treated her as only a prize, he waited for her answer.

No one spoke. The musicians had fallen silent, and the dancers stood motionless upon the polished floor. Ophelia could feel the attention of the room, but for once it did not press her smaller. She had stood before them wearing her mother’s legacy and named Markham’s deceit. She had been seen, and it had not destroyed her.

She looked down at the shining bangles on her wrists.

Shirin had worn them in English drawing rooms where women stared and men whispered. She had worn them without apology, refusing to allow England to teach her silence. Ophelia had hidden them for five years, believing safety required the concealment of everything that named her.

She would hide nothing now.

Ophelia raised her eyes to Adrian. He stood with his hands behind him, his whole heart on his face, and a clear space of floor between them.

She crossed it herself in three quick steps, and he took his hands from behind his back and held them out to her, hope dawning in his expression.

“Yes,” she said.

The word came out thin, her throat tight with emotion, and she took his offered hands before saying it again.

“Yes. Not because you rescued me, and not because I require a duke to make me safe. Because I choose you, Adrian. Freely, and with my whole heart.”

His careful composure gave way, and joy broke over his face, utterly unguarded.

Around them, the room erupted a rush of whispers. Ophelia scarcely heard it.

Adrian lifted her hands but did not draw her closer. “You are certain?”

She almost laughed. “Do not become tiresome now.”

“I have always had a talent for it, I am told.”

“I am certain.” She let her happiness show in full on her face. “And yet, in full awareness of your tiresomeness, I still choose you.”

Only then did his fingers close fully around hers.

Josiah approached them. His eyes were red, and for a moment the old uncertainty returned to his face, as though he did not know what authority remained to him.