Chapter 21 #3
Her lips parted in disbelief. “Is this a real proposal?”
Still holding her hand, he dropped to one knee right there on the veranda. “Miss Charlotte Winslow, will you do me the immeasurable honor of becoming my wife?”
Her laughter broke through her tears as she pressed a hand to her heart. “Yes, Luca. Yes, I will marry you.”
He rose and caught her in his arms, the world spinning away until there was nothing left but the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his voice.
“May I kiss you?” he asked.
Charlotte’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Need you even ask?”
A quiet laugh escaped him, roughened by emotion. He stepped closer until the air between them grew warm, his breath mingling with hers. “Charlotte,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent, “I have waited so long to kiss you.”
She rose onto her tiptoes and, unable to bear another heartbeat of distance, pressed her lips to his.
For a fleeting instant, he seemed caught off guard—his lips tentative, searching—but then the hesitation vanished.
His hand found the curve of her back, pulling her gently against him.
The kiss deepened, slow and sure, a tender claiming that made the world fall away.
Every doubt that had ever plagued her, every fear that whispered she was unworthy of love, melted beneath the warmth of his touch.
In that moment, she knew—utterly and without question—that Luca would guard her heart. Now and always.
When he finally drew back, his forehead came to rest against hers, both of them breathless. “I almost forgot,” he said with a crooked smile, “I have something for you.”
Still dazed, Charlotte responded, “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
His chuckle rumbled softly against her skin. “No, I am hoping you will like this particular surprise.”
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew a small folded newssheet. “Here,” he said, unfolding it carefully.
“What is this?”
“It’s the article I finished this afternoon,” he explained, taking a step back so she could see. “I convinced the pressmen to print a few copies early. I wanted you to see it first.”
She smiled indulgently. “Whatever you have written, I am sure it is more than sufficient.”
Luca extended the clipping towards her. “It will be on the front page of tomorrow’s The London Gazette. It is a full account of our investigation into The Chelmsford Asylum and the Duke of Brackenford.”
Her eyes scanned the lines, her chest swelling with quiet pride. “You did well, Luca.”
“We did it together, Charlotte,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I hope you won’t mind that I took a small liberty.”
Her gaze followed where he pointed—and her breath caught. Beneath the bold headline, two names appeared in print. Lord Luca Dexter and Miss Charlotte Winslow.
Her name. Her real name.
She stared at it, uncomprehending for a heartbeat, before emotion crashed over her. “Luca…”
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I know we didn’t discuss it,” he said, “but I wanted the world to know the truth—that you were every bit as vital to uncovering this as I was. You deserve the credit. You always have.”
Her throat tightened. Words failed her. Instead, she threw her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest. Tears pricked at her eyes.
“I take it that it pleases you,” he murmured against her hair.
She laughed through her tears, leaning back to meet his gaze. “It does. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
His smile softened. “Then you had best grow accustomed to it, my love,” he said, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “Because I intend to keep doing so. And I am hoping you will continue to write for The London Gazette—in your own name this time.”
She drew in a shaky breath, her heart feeling as if it would burst with happiness.
“It is time,” Luca whispered, his eyes searching hers, “for the world to see what you are truly capable of.”
Charlotte held his gaze. “I love you.”
A smile touched his lips, quiet and sure. “I know,” he said simply, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that always seemed to steady her. “And I love you.”
The truth of it settled between them—simple, perfect, and breathtaking. For the first time in her life, she felt entirely seen. Entirely safe. Entirely home.
“Shall we go tell my brother and Jane the good news before they come looking for us?”
“We could,” he said, lowering his voice, “or I propose a far better plan.”
She arched a brow. “Oh?”
He leaned closer, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We could keep kissing until Alcott throws a fit and challenges me to a duel.”
Charlotte’s laughter bubbled up before she could stop it. “I like that plan far better,” she replied.
Before she could say another word, Luca tilted his head and captured her lips once more.
She melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest, knowing with sweet certainty that her heart had finally found its home.
All of the struggles she had endured had not been easy, but they had led her to this point, and she knew, without a doubt, that this was precisely where she belonged. In Luca’s arms.