Chapter Nineteen
Later that evening, Lillian found a moment alone with Rosanne in the corner of the drawing room.
"He did well," Rosanne said quietly, her eyes bright with something that looked like pride. "I have never seen him like that; actually engaging with people, staying present instead of retreating behind his title."
"He did." Lillian's voice was soft. "I did not expect, that is, I had hoped, but I did not truly believe..."
"That he could change?" Rosanne smiled. "Neither did I, if I am honest. He has been the same for so long; cold, controlled, keeping everyone at a distance. I had almost given up hope that he would ever be different."
"What changed him, do you think?"
"You did." Rosanne took her hand, squeezing gently.
"You showed him that there was something worth changing for.
Someone worth fighting for." She paused.
"I know he hurt you, Lillian. I know you have every reason to doubt him.
But what I saw tonight, the way he stood beside you, supported you, made space for your voice, that is not the brother I grew up with. That is someone new. Someone better."
Lillian nodded slowly, her eyes finding Daniel across the room. He was deep in conversation with Lord Hartwell now, their discussion appearing to center on some agricultural matter or other. As she watched, he said something that made Lord Hartwell laugh; actually laugh, with genuine amusement.
The Duke of Wyntham, making people laugh. It seemed impossible, and yet there it was.
"I want to believe," she said quietly. "But I am afraid."
"Of course you are. Anyone would be." Rosanne's grip on her hand tightened. "But Lillian, if you spend your whole life being afraid, you will miss the very things that make life worth living. Trust me. I speak from experience."
Lillian looked at her friend; this young woman who had spent years battling her own fears, her own anxieties, her own conviction that she was not enough. And she understood, perhaps for the first time, that courage was not the absence of fear. It was the willingness to act despite fear.
Daniel had shown that courage tonight. Perhaps it was time for her to show it as well.
***
She found him in the library.
It was late—most of the guests had retired, and the house had settled into the quiet rhythms of approaching night.
Lillian had claimed a headache as her excuse for leaving the drawing room early, but instead of returning to her room, she had slipped through the corridors to this place where she knew he would be.
He was standing at the window, looking out at the darkened grounds, and he did not turn when she entered, but she saw his shoulders relax, as though he had been waiting for her.
"You should not be here," he said quietly. "Lady Smith was quite specific about propriety."
"Lady Smith is asleep. And I needed to speak with you."
He turned then, and she saw the exhaustion in his face—the strain of maintaining his composure through hours of social interaction, the effort of being present when every instinct must have been screaming at him to retreat.
"You did well tonight," she said. "In the drawing room. The conversation about tenant management."
"I did not do anything remarkable. I simply told the truth. That your knowledge is superior to mine, and that the room should hear your perspective rather than Crane's nonsense."
"That is remarkable, Daniel. More remarkable than you know.
" She moved closer, close enough to see the slight tremor in his hands, the way he was struggling to maintain his composure.
"Edward would never have done what you did.
He would have rephrased my ideas as his own, addressed them to the gentlemen as though I had not spoken.
He did precisely that, several times, during my stay here. "
Daniel's expression darkened. "I had heard that he was courting you. I did not know..."
"It does not matter now. What matters is the contrast." Lillian reached out and took his hand, feeling the coldness of his fingers, the way they trembled against hers.
"You asked me what I wanted. You asked me to tell you what I needed.
This is it, Daniel. This, what you did tonight, is what I need. "
"I cannot promise to be perfect." His voice was rough, strained. "I will make mistakes. I will struggle with instincts that have governed me for many years. There will be times when I want to retreat, when the walls seem like the only safe option."
"I know."
"But I will try." He tightened his grip on her hand, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Every day, for the rest of my life, I will try to be the man you deserve. I will fail sometimes, perhaps often, but I will never stop trying."
Lillian felt tears spill down her cheeks, and she did not try to stop them. "That is all I ask. That you try. That you stay present, even when it is difficult. That you do not retreat behind your walls and leave me standing alone on the other side."
"I will not." He reached up with his free hand, cupping her face, his thumb brushing away her tears.
"I have spent my entire life running from feeling, Lillian.
Running from connection, from vulnerability, from anything that might pierce the armour I constructed.
And I have been miserable. Utterly, completely miserable, though I told myself it was contentment, I told myself it was safety. "
"And now?"
"Now I understand that safety without you is not safety at all.
It is merely a slower form of dying." His voice broke on the last word, and she saw moisture gathering in his own eyes.
"I love you. I have loved you since the moment you looked at me and saw past every wall I had ever built.
And I am tired of running from that love.
I am tired of pretending that I can survive without you. "
Lillian leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against her cheek, the steadiness of his presence despite his obvious emotion.
"I spoke with Edward this morning," she said. "I gave him my answer."
Daniel went very still. "And?"
"I refused him."
The relief that flooded his expression was almost painful to witness; so raw, so unguarded, so utterly unlike the controlled mask he had worn for so many years.
"Lillian..."
"He said things. Unpleasant things." She felt the anger stirring in her chest again at the memory.
"He suggested that I was letting sentiment override sense.
That I was making a mistake by choosing you.
That you would disappoint me, as he believes all men with passionate temperaments inevitably disappoint. "
Daniel's jaw tightened. "He may not be wrong."
"He is wrong." Lillian's voice was fierce.
"He is wrong because he does not understand what he saw when he looked at you.
He saw a man hiding from his feelings, and he assumed that meant you had no feelings to hide from.
But I know better. I have seen what lies beneath your walls, Daniel.
And it is not the capacity for destruction that you fear; it is the capacity for love.
Deep, fierce, consuming love that terrifies you precisely because it is so powerful. "
"It does terrify me."
"I know. But terror is not the same as danger.
You are not your father, Daniel. You have spent your entire life ensuring that you would not be—controlling yourself, guarding yourself, building walls that would prevent you from ever losing control the way he did.
" She reached up and covered his hand with hers, pressing it more firmly against her cheek.
"The irony is that all those walls, all that control, have made you exactly the kind of man who would never repeat his mistakes.
You are so afraid of passion that you have become its master rather than its slave. "
"You cannot know that."
"I know you." She held his gaze, willing him to understand.
"I know how hard you have worked to be different from your parents.
I know how much strength it takes to feel as deeply as you do and still maintain your composure.
I know that the man who rode through the night to reach me, who faced Lady Smith's interrogation, who stood in that drawing room and supported me before everyone.
That man is not capable of the destruction you fear. "
Daniel stared at her, his expression wavering between hope and disbelief. "How can you be so certain?"
"Because you have already proven it. Tonight, this week, every moment since you arrived—you have been proving that you can stay present when things are difficult.
That you can face your fears instead of running from them.
That you can love me without losing yourself in the process.
" Lillian smiled through her tears. "That is not the behaviour of a man destined to repeat his parents' mistakes.
That is the behaviour of a man who has learned from them. "
The silence stretched between them, heavy with possibility. Lillian could feel Daniel's pulse racing where his hand pressed against her face, she could see the struggle playing out behind his eyes as he wrestled with years of fear and self-doubt.
And then, slowly, his expression changed. The doubt faded, replaced by something that looked almost like wonder.
"You truly believe that."
"I truly believe it."
"Even after everything I have done. Everything I have put you through."
"Even so." She turned her face to press a kiss against his palm. "I love you, Daniel. Not despite your wounds, but in full knowledge of them. And I am willing to build a life with you, a real life, with all its difficulties and imperfections, if you are willing to build it with me."
"I am." The words came out rough, fierce. "I am more than willing. I am desperate for it. I have wanted nothing else since the moment I understood what you meant to me."
"Then ask me again."