Chapter 24

"Thank you," Lady Anastasia began. She sounded shy.

Sidney swallowed hard. His gaze moved around the room, which contained two chairs, a fireplace and a low table, some paintings decorating the walls. She had taken a seat in one of the chairs and he stood opposite her, the clouds filtering pale sunshine in through the lace curtains behind them.

"I did nothing," he said, his heart pounding so loud that he could feel the beat of it rushing in his ears. "I did only what I wished to do."

Lady Anastasia smiled. "You came here. You rushed in without warning to save me from an untenable situation. I cannot thank you enough."

"I did not do it just for you," Sidney blurted, and then he felt his cheeks go bright red. "I mean, I did it for me." He looked down at his toes. He had assumed, always, that she knew how he felt, that her feelings were the same as his. Now, his throat tightened shyly. "I had to try. I could not give you up."

It was the hardest sentence he had ever said, and yet it shot out of him, unchecked and unguarded, because he could not lie anymore. He could not hide anymore. He gazed into her eyes, terrified. What if she laughed at him? What if she cried?

He held his breath as something miraculous happened. A slow, sweet smile began to spread over her face. It started at the corners of her mouth and tugged upwards, growing and moving to her eyes so that they sparkled brightly, and it was like watching the sunshine spill slowly over the mountains in the early morning.

"I could not give you up, either," she said softly. Her smile had shifted, and her face was solemn again, her big blue eyes huge as they held his gaze. He blinked.

"You...you..." he stammered. He grinned, a smile blossoming on his own face as he laughed, relief flooding through him like the clear water of a stream. "You felt like I did?" He had always assumed so, but having her say it, having her look into his eyes with that solemn gaze, was like sunshine flooding his heart.

She laughed, that tinkling giggle that set his heart alight with joy. "Of course I did. I could not wait to see you! I counted the days before every event, hoping that I might chance upon you there. I was miserable when I did not see you for a week. I longed to talk to you. I enjoyed every one of the many conversations we had so much. I spent days awaiting them."

"You did?" Sidney gaped. "I felt precisely the same! I greatly enjoyed our discourse. I often found myself reflecting upon our conversations days hence, recalling something you did utter or the manner of your smile. I revisited them time and again in my mind, and I smiled anew each time I thought of them."

***

"Me, too." Lady Anastasia giggled.

Sidney stared. She was smiling at him, her blue eyes bright, and he could barely believe that he was standing opposite her, telling her the deep feelings he had hidden for so long. She stared up at him.

He stared back.

Her eyes held his and he felt his throat tighten, as it so often had before, when they danced or when they talked on the terrace at the ball. He had longed to press his lips to hers, to kiss her. He had wondered if she thought the same, and now she stared up at him with a look in her eyes that seemed to mirror his own feelings almost exactly.

"I suppose," he managed to say, his throat tight with feelings, "that I have always been a little awkward in the past, my lady."

"Yes," she said with that delightful tinkling laughter filling the room. "We have rather, Your Grace." She giggled.

"I just..." his throat was tight. He knew he had to say what he longed to, but he could not quite find the courage yet. "I just always worried that, well, the way I look, was..." he reddened, looking down at his toes. He did not want to bring her attention to his scars, and yet, how could he think of kissing her unless he knew for certain that she did not find him repellent? He drew his breath, too afraid to ask lest he hear the answer that he wanted least.

"I like the way you look," she said, before he had a chance to ask her. "Yes, I know that it is unusual," she began as he drew a breath to speak. "But I find your scars lend you a sort of exotic look. You are handsome, and the scars just add to you. They are part of a story that makes you interesting, that makes you strong because you survived it. I do not know what the story is, but I would like to hear it."

Sidney gaped at her. Tears sprang to his eyes, unbidden and unexpected. His throat tightened and he found that he could not talk, only gasped for a moment as he tried to draw air into his lungs.

"You think that?" he managed after sucking a breath into his lungs. He blinked, aware that tears were running down his cheeks. Strange though it seemed, he did not feel ashamed to let her see that he cried. "You want to know the story?"

"Yes," she said firmly. She looked up at him. She was standing up, and her head was just a little tipped back so that she could look into his eyes. "I want to know all about you. You are interesting, Duke of Willowick," she said with a chuckle. "And I wish to know all about you."

Sidney blinked. He gazed at her, his mind too full of words and his heart empty of all words except love.

"I..." he stammered, then grinned weakly. "I would like to tell you," he managed. "But I would also like to know about you. If I may," he added hesitantly. He felt terribly shy. In spite of her assurance that she liked how he looked, he still found it hard not to think of his company as an imposition, as if he was undeserving of her.

"Of course," Lady Anastasia began. She giggled. "One thing I can tell you straight away is that this veil is horridly uncomfortable." She reached up her hand, touching the veil, where it rested on a satin hairband that looked a little tight.

Sidney grinned. "I suppose this is, well...unusual attire." His heart thudded.

She laughed. "It is somewhat disconcerting."

He laughed too. "I am so happy," he confided, "I barely noticed. Besides to notice that white becomes you well. You look exceptional, my lady."

She laughed, her cheeks crimson. "Thank you, Your Grace." She tilted her head, studying him teasingly. "I suppose we are a little formal."

He inclined his head. "Please," he said, clearing his throat. "Please, call me Sidney."

She beamed. "And you must call me Anastasia."

"Anastasia." He reached for her hand and held it in his own. Her gaze held his, her blue eyes wide and round. He drew in a breath. "I cannot tell you how I never even dreamed I might say that." His heart pounded so hard he could hear it thudding steadily in his chest, hot blood flooding into his cheeks and all the way to the roots of his hair.

"I never dreamed I might hear it." She smiled at him. "Sidney."

He stopped breathing for a second or two, the word slamming into him like a rock falling from a height.

"I have longed to speak thus to you; to speak the words that are in my heart." He cleared his throat, his cheeks hot with blushing, his heart racing and his palms wet. "But I cannot hold them silent a moment more. From the moment I saw you, Anastasia, you touched something deep in my heart. I was drawn to you, to your smile, to your wisdom and your brightness. I longed to talk to you, to know you. Yes, you are beautiful—most beautiful. But it was your insights and your intellect that delighted me. I looked forward to every conversation, and each one gave me endless joy. I wanted so much to know you. And now...now I may tell you, at last, what is in my heart. My dearest Anastasia, I must confess that I have long been aware of the depths of my affection for you. The boundless joy and exquisite wonder I experience when I converse with you, or gaze upon your countenance—this profound delight that you exist in this world, and that I am privileged to share it with you—this is true love, of that I am certain. I count myself exceedingly fortunate to have made your acquaintance, dear Anastasia."

He stopped talking, his heart thumping wildly. He gazed into her eyes. He had worried, as he spoke, that he was making her feel afraid, perhaps obliged. He did not want to do that. He wished only to tell her how he felt. She did not need to do or say anything—he merely wished for her to know.

She gazed up at him and for a moment his heart almost stopped, afraid that she was offended. She wet her lips and gazed into his eyes.

"I liked you the moment I saw you," she said, her gaze darting away shyly for a moment. "I felt drawn to you, to your humour and your wit. I was interested in you. I know many people, but none who spoke like you, who had insights like you." She paused. "I confess, too, that I was aware of your looks." She grinned. "You have most striking eyes, Sidney Markham. I thought about them for days afterwards. And your words." She giggled.

Sidney gaped at her. He grinned, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"I have harboured sentiments for you unlike any other,' she confided, her cerulean eyes steadfast in their regard. ‘It has bestowed upon me a joy unparalleled in my experience. It is love, dear Sidney Markham. I am thoroughly entwined in my affections for you; I love you with all my heart."

Sidney's heart thudded, filled with so much joy and love that he could barely breathe. He gazed into her eyes and took a step forward, taking her hand in his own. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of it, the soft rosewater scent filling his nostrils, flooding his senses until he thought he might drown in it. He released her hand, gazing into her eyes. She rested her hand on his cheek. He drew a breath, knowing that he wanted to kiss her more than he had ever wished for anything. He leaned a little forward, and she leaned forward too and then he bent his head and pressed his lips to her own.

Her lips were soft under his, and sweet and warm, like petals. He shut his eyes, and when she leaned against him, not tensing or flinching, he pressed closer, his hand moving to touch her hair and his other arm drawing her against him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight and Sidney's soul soared, bliss that he had never even imagined flooding into him and through him.

"I love you," he breathed as he stepped back, his heart thudding and his breath ragged in his chest. "I love you with all my heart, now and always."

"I love you too, Sidney Markham," she said softly, her smile bright and warm and like sunshine in his heart. "I love you too."

He took her hand, and they walked onto the balcony together, into the sunshine.

His lips lifted at the corners, and he longed to share his happiness with everyone he knew, but for the moment, it was enough to hold her and be held, to love and be loved, to revel in the joy of a time he would cherish forever—because love is eternal.