Chapter Sixteen
Lucien paced the length of the library, the dying embers in the fireplace casting long shadows across the weathered carpet.
He paused before the window, gazing out at the moonlit grounds of Danvers Hall.
The estate looked peaceful, timeless—so different from his humble cottage in Ireland.
Yet somehow, over these past two weeks, this place had begun to feel like home, or a place he could make a home.
Probably because it was away from the eyes and vicious tongues of the ton.
His fingers toyed with the small velvet box in his pocket.
It contained his mother’s ring—a sapphire surrounded by diamonds that the earl had pressed into his hand this morning, urging him to do what was expected of him.
That was just it. He wanted more from a marriage than money.
He could be happy with Courtney, couldn’t he? His stomach churned once more.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he stood, about to propose to a woman he couldn’t remember loving, while still carrying the weight of Ava’s deception. His heart felt like a battlefield where past and present waged an endless war.
The soft click of the door opening made him turn.
Courtney stood in the doorway, a vision in a simple evening dress of deep blue that made her auburn hair glow like burnished copper in the firelight.
She looked beautiful. And some of his tension left his shoulders.
Her amber eyes held a question as she hesitated on the threshold.
“You came,” he said, the words coming out more breathless than he’d intended.
“You asked me to.” Her simple reply held no coyness, no games—just honesty. That was what drew him to her most, he realized. In a world where he’d been deceived so thoroughly, her straightforward nature was like a beacon. He wanted to trust her.
She crossed to join him by the window, close enough that he could catch the subtle scent of roses that seemed to cling to her. “It’s a beautiful night,” she observed.
“It is,” he agreed, though his eyes remained on her face rather than the view. “Courtney, these past two weeks—”
“Have been lovely,” she finished for him, a small smile playing at her lips. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you again. And I hate to say it, but you’re not so different from the man you don’t remember.”
His throat tightened with unexpected emotion. “Really?”
She turned to face him fully. “Well, maybe somewhat the same. I suspect five years changes people, Lucien. Whether spent in Ireland living a different life, or in London grieving what I thought was lost.”
He took her hands in his, marveling at how perfectly they fit within his own. “What I feel for you is…complicated,” he admitted. “I admire you—your intelligence, your openness, your kindness toward Ava-Marie.”
“I adore her. She’s a part of you,” she said simply. “She makes it easy.”
“I like you,” he continued, choosing each word carefully. “I more than like you. I find myself thinking of you when we’re apart, watching for you when you enter a room. I respect your opinions, value your insights.”
“But you’re not in love with me,” she said, her voice gentle rather than accusatory.
The truth of it hung between them, painful but necessary. “I don’t know if I’m capable of that kind of love again,” he confessed, the admission costing him dearly. “After losing Ava, after everything that happened in Ireland…”
He couldn’t tell her the whole truth. Not yet.
Ava-Marie’s future hung in the balance. Society would destroy her if they knew the truth.
He had to protect her, the innocent party in Ava’s deception.
He had to be absolutely certain before he shared this secret with anyone.
That Ava had never been his wife. That his beloved daughter was illegitimate.
That he’d been thoroughly deceived by the woman he thought he’d married.
A woman who kept him from his real family—hell, Ava had kept him from Courtney.
The shame of it all burned in his chest. He wouldn’t tarnish this moment with those truths.
London. He’d tell her in London. Because you know that once the engagement is announced in London, she would find it difficult to cry off? He hated that thought.
Courtney waited patiently, her thumb brushing reassuringly across his knuckles.
“My heart is…damaged,” he finally said, settling for a truth that wasn’t the whole truth. “Not just because of Ava’s death, but because of things I’m not ready to speak of yet. Things I promise to tell you when I’m ready.”
To his surprise, there was no hurt in her eyes at his secrecy, only understanding. “We all have wounds that take time to reveal,” she said. “I don’t need all your secrets tonight.”
Where was her judgment? Her disappointment? Instead, she offered understanding he wasn’t sure he deserved.
“Courtney,” he said, releasing one of her hands to retrieve the box from his pocket, “I can offer you respect, admiration, trust, and companionship. I can promise to be faithful, to cherish you, to build a life together that has meaning and purpose.” He swallowed hard, confronting his deepest fear.
“But will that be enough for you? Can you accept a man who may never give you the kind of all-consuming love we once shared?”
Her eyes widened as he opened the box, revealing the ring nestled within. “Lucien…”
“I know it’s not the romantic proposal you might have imagined,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “But it’s honest. You deserve nothing less.”
To his surprise, tears filled her eyes, though she was smiling.
“When I thought you were dead, I believed I would never marry,” she said softly.
“The idea of giving myself to someone else felt impossible. But eventually, I came to understand that there are many kinds of love—each valuable in its own way.”
She touched his face, her fingers warm against his cheek. “I don’t need all-consuming love, Lucien. I need a partner who respects me, who sees me for who I truly am, who walks beside me rather than ahead or behind. Someone who will be kind to me, and whom I can be kind to in return.”
Hope flickered in his chest, fragile but persistent. “And you believe that could be me? Even with my…limitations?”
“I believe,” she said with quiet certainty, “that we can build something beautiful together, if we choose to. Love isn’t just a feeling that strikes like lightning. It can grow slowly and deepen over time. It’s also a choice—one we make every day.”
She trusted him. The knowledge was both a balm and a burden. Would she still look at him with such acceptance when she knew the full truth? He had to believe she would.
“Lady Courtney Montague,” he said formally, taking the ring from its velvet nest, “would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife? Not because of what we once were to each other, but because of what we might become together?”
Her smile was radiant through her tears. “Yes, Lord Furoe. I would be honored to be your wife.”
His hands trembled slightly as he slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles just above where the sapphire now rested. “Thank you,” he whispered, the words inadequate for the gratitude flooding through him.
She stepped closer, eliminating the distance between them. “Kiss me,” she requested softly, “I won’t break.”
He didn’t hesitate, drawing her into his arms and claiming her lips with a gentleness that quickly gave way to something deeper, more primal. Her body molded against his perfectly, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she responded with equal fervor.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless and flushed, he rested his forehead against hers. “I may not remember loving you before,” he said roughly, “but we will be happy together. I promise you that.”
“We have all the time in the world to build a life,” she assured him, then bit her lip, a becoming blush spreading across her cheeks. “Though perhaps…we needn’t wait for everything.”
He drew back slightly, searching her face. “What do you mean?”
Her blush deepened, but her gaze remained steady. “Come to my bedchamber tonight,” she whispered. “After the household is asleep.”
The invitation sent heat coursing through him, desire pooling low in his abdomen. “Courtney, are you certain? We don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she interrupted, her voice holding no hesitation despite her blush. “I want you, Lucien. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.”
The thought that she had wanted him, waited for him all these years while he had been oblivious to her existence, humbled him profoundly. He cupped her face in his hands, overwhelmed by the trust she placed in him.
“Then I will come to you tonight,” he promised, sealing the vow with another kiss.
As he pulled her into his arms, Courtney felt tears welling.
Did he know this was her ring? The same ring he’d given her when he’d last proposed.
She’d given it back to Lord Danvers after the news that Lucien had been killed had arrived.
It was his family’s ring. Besides, she couldn’t bear to look at it every day and know what might have been and now, here it was, back on her finger. She had never been so happy.
She’d also given herself to Lucien here—in this house.
She wanted her second first time with Lucien to be here too.
She tried to tell herself it wasn’t because she wanted to see if lying in his arms would feel the same, but it was.
If it was the same, she knew things would work out.
She shuddered and he held her tighter. If it was different… she didn’t know what that might mean.
“Are you all right?” he whispered in her ear.
“I’m fine.” She wasn’t fine. This all seemed so easy. So familiar and yet Lucien was a virtual stranger. She hoped her memories, or dreams of what their life could have been, weren’t clouding her view of reality. Should it be this easy?