Aurelie shot to her feet abruptly. Her knitting fell from her lap.
Everyone stared at Mr. Hawkes as his footsteps crossed the foyer. No one breathed.
“They arrested the Earl of Brundage on charges of treason. I am safe and free from all suspicion now. Thank you all so... very much for your help. I appreciate it more than I can ever say.”
He said this evenly, with the gravity it deserved, as one would deliver a military dispatch.
And his words were addressed to the entire room. But his eyes were only on one person.
And as everyone exhaled with enormous relief and murmured congratulations and welcomes, Aurelie remained frozen in place, her knuckles against her lips, her eyes burning with tears of joy and relief.
Hawkes moved toward her, gently took her other hand in his. Threaded his fingers through it.
And without a word, led her out of the room, across the foyer into the little reception room.
And she went, because she would follow him anywhere.
He closed the door behind the two of them.
She reached for him as he was reaching for her and he buried his face in her neck and breathed her in and exhaled. She stroked his hair and murmured soothing things to him.
“You are unharmed?” she murmured.
“Yes. It’s done. I’m well. I’m in fact perfect now. And you are... are you...”
“Yes. I am well now that you are here.” She brushed away tears.
He turned his head and his lips sought hers and she felt his sigh of relief and desire vibrate through her own body.
It was so easy to fall into the world of a kiss with him, and that’s where she wanted to be.
But suddenly he loosened his arms and stepped back from her. “I’ve something I need to say at once,” he said. Almost sternly.
He looked so earnest she knew a tinge of worry.
He took a deep breath.
“I had thought and thought about whether I had the right to ask this of you, when my future was still so uncertain. But maybe you’ve discerned that I’m no bloody martyr, Aurelie. We both know how capricious and fleeting life can be, and how glorious we can make it. And whatever we don’t know about each other, I figure we’ll learn along the way. I like you...somuch.” He gave a short, almost pained laugh. “And the way I love you makes my breath stop. I cannot believe the astounding good fortune I have to be alive at the same time you are. We can have any life you want—cottages, boardinghouses, green meadows, a trip across the ocean—we’ll create it together...” His voice was hoarse now. “If you’ll do me the honor of marrying me.”
She drew in a sharp breath as happiness at once flooded her. Or was it peace? Perhaps they were one and the same, after all.
“I would follow you to the ends of the earth, Hawkes,” she whispered.
“So... yes?” His face had gone as luminous as the man she’d once seen in a ballroom, long ago, from the top of the stairs. Shining like the North Star. Somehow, miraculously, she’d been steering toward him for her entire life.
“Yes, please. I would be honored to be your wife.”
He heaved a great sigh and closed his eyes, then opened them. Shook his head wonderingly, lips pressed together, as she nestled into his reaching arms.
“I think you will make a splendid husband,” she told him, when she was folded safely there again.
“So do I,” he murmured. “I intend to do my very best.”
Epilogue
Happiness seemed an absorbing, rewarding occupation in and of itself. Sitting next to Hawkes on the pink settee where the king once rested his bum seemed a fine way to spend the rest of her life. Their hands were laced, and she looked down at his long fingers, wondering at the rough palm against her soft one, and thought, almost dizzily, of how familiar his hands would become to her over the years: the feel of them twined with hers or gliding over her body, holding their babies, helping her down from carriages. And she had only just learned his first name. He was a universe. And he was hers.
“I am thinking of something you said, Christian, when you were proposing to me.”