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“I love you, my Emma,” he said. And there it was, her smile, illuminating her eyes from within. The smile for which he was ready to die.

She shook her head. “And I love you—everything about you, really. Your big, beautiful body. Your kind heart. Your protectiveness. Your sense of honor. Your care for your mother even if you think she doesn’t love you—which you’re wrong about, by the way. Your childhood should have been better. You should have always felt loved and valued. But I’m ready to spend the rest of my life making you madly, madly happy.”

He was bursting, flying high. This warmth, this expansion inside of him, was it happiness? Was it knowing that he loved and was loved?

“Emma, darling,” he said, brushing his knuckles against the soft skin of her face. “What about you not ever wanting to be married? What about marriage feeling like a prison?”

“I realized it wasn’t all marriages that are like a prison. It was my marriage to Sir Jasper. Being with you…feels like freedom. Feels like I am where I belong.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. He felt so warm and so complete. If she rejected him now, he’d be destroyed. But he knew he had to risk that. She was the one for him. She was his duchess.

Wincing but ignoring the pain, he dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hand in his. “Miss Emma Sherbourne, if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my days making you happy. Will you marry me?”

She chuckled, her smile so radiant that, for the first time in over two weeks, he felt a similar smile bloom on his own face.

“Yes,” she said. “I will marry you.”

The cracks in his old heart glued together, warmth spreading through him. As he kissed her again, her body so dear in his arms, he knew his life was now complete, and every day would be full of sunlight.

As long as he had her.

EPILOGUE

One week later, Sebastian kissed the hand of his beautiful wife as they entered the dining room of Longton Place. The wedding breakfast was set for only nine people. The bishop had just married them with a special license in a small, secret ceremony in the drawing room. Since the whole ton thought that they were already married, they didn’t need to attract any attention to this event. Even the Bishop of London, being Spencer’s friend, had been sworn to secrecy. In the name of the deceased Grandhampton, he would agree to keep his silence.

The Seatons were still in mourning but had made an exception to their avoidance of social engagements to support Sebastian and Emma. Still, they were wearing black. It had been only one month since Grandhampton died.

Normally, Sebastian wouldn’t marry Emma so soon after his friend had passed, but it was necessary to avoid any danger of a scandal. They would visit Emma’s family soon. The Sherbournes didn’t even know about the annulment.

But he had told Mama everything. Even though she had initially thought that Sebastian and Emma were already married, he’d wanted her to be part of the ceremony, and to have no more bad feelings between them, so he had told her the whole truth.

The dining table was laden with bread and buttered toast, ham, eggs, fruit, and cheese. In the middle of the table stood the cake. Looking like a log under a snowfall of perfectly white refined icing sugar, the cake smelled like brandy and roasted almonds.

As they sat down to eat, he couldn’t take his eyes off his wife.

His wife… His happiness. She had healed him. He was not a broken, unloved man, wondering what was wrong with him.

He was…himself. She showed him every day that he deserved happiness. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined he’d be so full of joy and life. Because he’d had no dreams before her.

And now…

He knew he could make her happy, just like she made him happy. Something within him relaxed and warmed up and he felt whole.

Mama chatted with Emma, her face kind and polite. Earlier, Mama had given Emma the wedding ring her husband had given her and thanked Emma for stepping up for her and for Sebastian.

Mama leaned closer to Emma, and looking at both Sebastian and Emma, said, “I hope your marriage is everything mine wasn’t.”

Sebastian’s throat clenched with emotion. “Thank you, Mama.”

She smiled sadly. “All I wanted was to protect you, Sebastian, from gossip and scandal and unhappiness. That’s why I was so unpleasant to you, Emma. I am sorry, dear. And I want to welcome you. My son found a wonderful duchess.”

“Thank you, Mama,” said Emma, and the two most important women in his life exchanged warm smiles.

“Seb,” said someone over his head.

He looked up. It was Preston, as white as a sheet and as mournful as death. Now that Preston was duke, it was customary to call him Grandhampton. But Preston insisted Sebastian keep calling him by his given name. Just like Preston had never started calling Sebastian “Loxchester” when Papa died—Sebastian didn’t want friends calling him by his title, either.

“Something happened?” Sebastian asked.