Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
The house had long since settled into the quiet that followed the last of the evening’s movements, when servants withdrew and doors were closed upon the day, leaving only the soft, intermittent sounds that marked the passage of the night.
Caroline had not retired in any meaningful sense, though she had dismissed her maid and made the expected show of doing so.
Sleep was not something she anticipated with any confidence, not when her thoughts remained so entirely occupied with what had passed between herself and Julien and what she knew—what she hoped— would yet come.
It had not been her intention to pace restlessly, yet she found herself doing so nonetheless, her steps hushed by the soft carpet beneath her slippered feet as she moved the length of her chamber and back again.
Her hands were loosely clasped before her as though that small constraint might impose some degree of order upon the restless anticipation she could neither ignore nor fully contain.
It was not uncertainty that drove her movement, but rather the opposite, a sense of inevitability, of eager anticipation, that made stillness difficult to maintain, as though the quiet itself pressed upon her with too much expectation to be borne without motion.
The soft sound of the latch turning was not entirely unexpected, though it did not fail to still her where she stood.
She did not turn at once, not out of hesitation, but because she wished to gather herself, to meet him not in a state of visible agitation, but with the composure she had carried throughout the day.
By the time she faced him, she had achieved it, though the warmth that rose within her at the sight of him was not something she attempted to conceal.
“I thought I would come to you tonight. You should not be wandering the corridors at night,” he said without preamble, closing the door quietly behind him before turning the key with a deliberation that left little doubt as to his intent.
“You take the entirety of the risk upon yourself, and I find I do not like it.”
There was no censure in his tone, though the edge beneath it was unmistakable, born not of anger, but of something far more personal, something that spoke to a concern he did not trouble himself to disguise.
Even when embarking upon illicit actions, he was still thinking of her.
Caroline regarded him for a moment, her head tilting slightly as though she might examine the statement from more than one angle before responding.
“How egalitarian of you,” she said at last, a faint smile touching her lips. “To insist upon sharing the risks, particularly when you did not also share in all the pleasures of the night before.”
The effect of her words was immediate. He did not look away from her. If anything, the intensity of his gaze deepened, the restraint he held so carefully in place tested in a way that was neither unwelcome nor easily dismissed.
“You mistake me,” he said quietly. “There was nothing in that which I did not share. To give you pleasure—” he paused then, as though the weight of the admission required no embellishment, “—was the greatest gift I have ever received.”
Something within her stilled at that, not in hesitation, but in recognition. The space between them seemed to narrow without either of them consciously moving, drawn together by something that no longer required explanation or permission.
“And yet,” he continued, though his voice had lowered, taking on a more deliberate cadence, “there are matters that must be addressed before I allow myself to be governed entirely by such inclinations.”
He drew back then, not far, but enough to reach into the inner pocket of his coat, his movements measured, purposeful. When his hand emerged, it held a small object, the significance of which was not diminished by the simplicity of its presentation.
“This is but a token,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers.
“There is nothing I might place in your hand that could ever fully represent the depth of what I feel for you, nor the extent of my desire to make you mine. But it is what I have to offer in this moment, and I would not delay in giving it to you.”
He moved then, lowering himself to one knee before her with a certainty that admitted no hesitation, no retreat into the caution that had once governed him. Whatever he had been before, whatever restraint had cost him in years past, it no longer held dominion over him now.
“I will not speak around this,” he said, his voice steady, though there was a quiet intensity in it that spoke to the weight of what he offered.
“Nor will I delay it further by pretending caution when it was caution that cost me more than I am willing to surrender again. Those are years we cannot reclaim and I am not inclined to give up more. I have loved you from the moment I first met you. I told myself then that restraint was the proper course, that you deserved time, that you deserved choice unburdened by anything I might impose, and in doing so I lost what I ought to have claimed. I will not repeat that error.”
The ring rested in his hand, its pale golden stone catching even the dim light, reflecting it back with a quiet brilliance that seemed almost too fitting to be accidental.
“I do not offer you uncertainty, nor do I offer you half-measures,” he continued.
“This is not a promise of a proposal nor the sealing of an understanding of intent. It is a proposal of marriage, as soon as such a thing can be reasonably arranged… I offer you myself, entirely and without reservation, with the knowledge that whatever affection I possess for you now will not diminish, but will expand every day that follows. I will love you more tomorrow than I do today, and more still the day after. For so long as I am permitted the privilege of doing so.”
He did not look away from her as he spoke, nor did he soften the truth of what he offered with anything less than complete sincerity.
“Will you marry me, Caroline?”
There was no hesitation in her answer.
“Yes,” she said, the word steady, certain, carrying within it the full weight of all that had come before and all that would follow. “Yes, I will. Tomorrow. And the day after and the day after. I’d walk all the way to Gretna Green if I had to.”
Only then did she move, her hand lifting to him, not to draw him up at once, but to close around his as though she might anchor the moment before it could pass too quickly to be fully realized.
“I was so blind,” she said, her voice softer now, though no less certain.
“Not in coming to you, nor in what has passed between us, but in all that came before. I trusted where I should not have. I mistook habit for affection, and in doing so, I allowed years to pass that might have been otherwise spent. I am sorry for that, not for myself alone, but for you, that I did not see sooner what should have been plain to me.”
Her gaze did not waver as she spoke, nor did she attempt to lessen the admission by softening it with anything less than the truth.
“I cannot alter what has already been,” she continued, “but I will not allow myself to remain blind to what stands before me now. If there is a path to be taken, then I would take it with you, and without further delay.”
He rose then, the movement swift now that the question had been answered, his hand closing more firmly around hers before releasing it only to place the ring upon her finger, adjusting it with care until it rested where it belonged.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the significance of what had passed settling between them in a silence that was no longer uncertain, but complete.
When he drew her to him once more, there was nothing tentative in the motion, yet neither was there the unchecked urgency that had marked their earlier embrace. It was something steadier now, something that spoke not only of desire, but of certainty, of a claim made openly and without reservation.
And when his mouth found hers again, it was not with restraint, but with the full knowledge of what now lay between them, no longer unspoken, no longer uncertain, but irrevocably, undeniably theirs.
She drew back. “Last night, you showed me pleasure. And tonight, you have proclaimed that there is more pleasure to be had in the giving of it… Show me that as well, Julien. Show me how to bring you that same sort of ecstasy.”
“You’re certain?”
She smiled at him. “I am more than certain. I would offer you anything… I do not feel the need to wait for marriage, though I think you do. I think you feel taking more would somehow dishonor me… how could it be a dishonor when your touch makes me feel cherished? Worshipped even. Let me do the same for you.”