Chapter 24

Marianne wasn't sure what she expected to feel after being recognized as Nicholas Chambers' daughter. She exited the hall feeling almost no different than when she entered it—if not relieved that the marquess had not shown his face during the proceedings.

The Lord Chancellor had found everything to be in order with the documents collected by Catherine. Marianne was now legally Lady Marianne Chambers, and next year, she would make her long overdue presentation to the Queen.

She skipped down the steps into the courtyard before Westminster Hall, hoping to find Anthony waiting for her. A quick search revealed that he had not returned from his talks with Lord Hindborough, and she began imagining the worst: that despite their efforts, the Webbs would carry their threats through to the end.

"A fine morning's work, My Lady," Gideon said from behind her. He joined her at the base of the steps, mustering a smile. Even at a time of celebration, he was lukewarm with her at best. "I would say that I did not doubt you for a second. But as we both know, that would not be entirely true. Still, I am glad that you have become part of our family. Lavinia will be beside herself when I return with you to Saltsman House."

"I have not yet decided where I am next headed," Marianne reminded him for the umpteenth time. She sighed when it became obvious Anthony was not going to appear. "I really hoped he would be here ..."

"No doubt His Grace had more important matters to attend with Lord Hindborough. It does not surprise me. If what was rumoured at Hagram Park was true, the duke and the marquess' daughter are all but guaranteed to wed. Perhaps they are discussing the match at present. We should leave him be."

"It's not like you to give the business of others much consideration. I thought you were above the gossip of the ton." Marianne scowled at him. "No, I should like to remain here until he returns. That is what he would want me to do."

"That's hardly rational. Are you going to stay here until nightfall? We have no guarantee the duke will return." Gideon extended his arm to her, and Marianne took it to avoid causing a scene. "We should celebrate your triumph today. I have consulted with my staff about hosting a dinner for you this evening."

"A little presumptuous," Marianne murmured, keeping her eyes on the ground. "As I said, I am all too happy remaining at Colline House for my stay in London."

Gideon paused their walk, stopping in the walkway that led to Parliament Square.

"But ... Marianne, that would raise a great number of questions. You are a single woman, and now that you are a lady, all eyes will be upon you. You should not remain in the company of the duke, unmarried as he is when there is a more fitting place for you at my side. I understand these rules may be difficult to assimilate—"

"My assimilation skills are in perfect working order, thank you very much," Marianne bit back, tearing her arm out of his hold. "It is with the Collines that I feel most comfortable, and that is where I want to stay. You and I are still practically strangers. I cannot be blamed for being reluctant to join you."

"We have known each other for as long as you have known the duke. And you show him much more trust than you have shown me, even though I have done nothing to warrant your suspicion." Gideon looked around, worried about attracting unwanted attention.

"And if we are speaking frankly, your dependence on the Colline family cannot endure much longer. For one day, you will need to be separated from them and begin your own life. Was today not about marking your freedom?"

"Your definition of freedom does not match my own. How much freer am I living under your thumb than I was while living at Moorhaven Manor?"

She continued walking away from Westminster, not caring whether Gideon followed her to the carriage. His incessant talk about rules and appearances would not ruin her day. It was obvious to Marianne what he intended. She didn't want to give him the chance. Her mind and heart focused solely on Anthony—wherever he had gone.

Marianne gasped as Gideon grabbed her, forcing her to turn and look at him. She tore her arm away, stunned at his behaviour. People passing by looked but did not intervene. When Gideon seemed to realize what he had done, his face flashed with shame.

"I should not have done that, Marianne. But what choice do I have when you refuse to listen?" He lowered his voice, and Marianne almost felt bad for him. "You are now officially a family member of which I am the patriarch. And that position demands respect from you whether you like it or not."

She stood motionless as he raged quietly at her, pushed to the brink by her insubordination.

"There are many things about this life that I would not have chosen," he said. "The duty that comes with this title often takes more from one than it gives. So, forgive me if I cannot be lenient with you while you defy me at every turn. Your actions will have a direct impact on your family."

He paused, pressing his lips together until they turned white. "I am not a man of feelings. This ... closeness you have developed for the duke has not escaped even my attention. The sooner you rid yourself of your delusions, the better."

"By marrying you?" Marianne laughed. What point was there in beating around the bush any longer?

"You are a fine man, Gideon. But I have no desire to give my hand to you. Perhaps I am a fool for holding out hope for something true, but then I shall live happily as a fool, either alone or with someone who genuinely cares for me—and not because he must. This world does not need to take everything from you. And love ...? You cannot tell me you have never wanted to dream of love."

Her cousin hesitated a moment, gazing over the gardens of Parliament Square. She watched his face carefully, confident in her own feelings but not in his. She thought he looked sad, pained by something. It could not have been about her.

There was no love lost between them. She wondered whether something had happened in his past. From their first meeting, he had been cold and distant, speaking of duty like it was the only thing that mattered. Men were not born that way. They became thralls by the actions of others.

"Of course ... How could I not ...? But there are many things ..." Gideon sighed, revealing more than he knew in his fractured answer. The vulnerability in his gaze disappeared, hardening all over again. "We play with the cards we are dealt. And yours is not a bad hand, no matter how you feel."

Marianne tried to interrupt with words of reassurance, but he cut her off.

"You spoke of marriage first, so the topic is on the table. You should marry me, Marianne. It is the most logical, most reasonable, safest thing for you to do. I will not force your hand. I could not if I tried." He stepped closer to her, casting her in shadow. "But you should think seriously about my offer. Because the duke may not return to you, and love is not all it's chalked up to be besides ..."

*

Wrapping her arms around herself, Marianne stood before the remnants of Buller's Stitch. After dropping Gideon off in Mayfair, she had asked Plym to make the long drive to Lambeth—chaperone be damned.

Her cousin's proposal had knocked Marianne's whole world off-kilter. She had anticipated it from the moment they met. And despite knowing that she would be miserable as his wife, a part of her—the part of her that was Nicholas' daughter—felt like it was her duty to say yes.

This wonderful new life could not have come without a cost. Since leaving Lambeth, she had known her fair share of struggles, but so much of it had been good. Anthony, most of all. It stood to reason that sacrifices had to be made somewhere. That there was a price to pay she couldn't see yet, not knowing enough about the aristocrats and their world to understand the reversal Gideon assured her was coming.

She walked up to the boarded shopfront that had once been her mother's pride and joy. Gideon had said love was not worth the trouble it caused. She thought about her mother and father, wondering what they would say about the matter. They had loved each other so much that they had fled everything they had ever known to be together—and in the end, they had enjoyed months in each other's company, only for her father to die.

Hammering noises came from inside, and Marianne's curiosity got the better of her. She tried the front door, and it opened. The sounds of construction grew louder as she approached the doorway that once led to the shop. It was an empty archway now, revealing a shop floor, gutted and bare. Nothing remained of Buller's Stitch: the floorboards, the wallpaper, the mirrors, the shelves, the counter ... Everything was gone.

Three workers turned to look at Marianne, pausing their work on the new floor. She worried she had walked into more danger, but they seemed content to let her be.

"I'm sorry for barging in." She pointed to the door. "I hadn't expected it to be open. I used to live upstairs. Do you know whether the flat has been let?"

"With the ruckus we're causing?" one of the men joked, dusting his hands off on his trousers. He titled his cap to Marianne, revealing a face that was much younger than she expected. "It's free, lass. Did you need something from up there?"

"No ... Yes," she stammered, shaking her head. "Do you have the key?"

The man stepped away, slipping into what had once been the back of the shop. He returned with a familiar key, dangling on a rope, and handed it to Marianne.

"I'd watch your step up the stairs," he said, falling back into a crouch to keep working on the floor. "Some of them need taking out."

Marianne nodded, seizing the key and leaving before anyone tried to stop her. Her nose itched at the dust inside the shop, and she pinched it to stop from sneezing as she raced up the stairs. The key slipped into the lock without resistance. The door to her old home opened with a familiar creak.

She smiled as the flat appeared before her, empty but still feeling like home. Taking off her pelisse, she hung it on one of the hooks by the door, turning in a circle as she took in her surroundings. Her heartbeat quickened in excitement at returning home. That giddy feeling didn't last long as memories flowed unbidden into her mind.

Marianne progressed towards the back of the flat, inspecting their old bedroom. She could only look for a minute before her eyes smarted with tears. She had barely cried since Catherine's letter had arrived and changed her life. But she cried now. For her mother, for herself, for the old life that could never be lived again.

Wiping her tears on her sleeves, she paused outside the bedroom at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. One of the workers must have come looking for her, wanting the key back. The door swung open, and Marianne scrubbed her face with her hands.

"Just a moment," she said with her back turned. "I just need one more moment."

"Marianne."

She spun on her heel, stunned to find Anthony in the open door. He didn't move until she did, racing across the apartment to greet him like a lover returned from war. Marianne reached out to hold him, then stopped herself, grabbing her own hand. Her body yearned to greet him properly, to ask where he had gone and why.

"What are you doing here?" she asked instead, worried she had dreamed of him. He still looked the same in his half-mourning clothes, his dark hair curling around his ears in a way that made her troubles melt away. "How did you know where I was?"

"I returned to Colline House and learned that you had not returned. I thought you had gone to see the Foxbury home as was planned, but the earl directed me here." Anthony was not smiling. He bit his lower lip, hesitating by the door. "May I come in?"

"You don't need to ask. It's not exactly my home anymore." Marianne stepped back and waved him lamely inside. "And yet, I still feel like I should apologize for the mess. It's hardly a homestead befitting a duke."

"I like it," Anthony said, looking at the crown moulding overhead, the island in the kitchen. "Long had I imagined what your old home looked like. I'm glad for the chance to see it. And the shop downstairs ... that was where you worked?"

"It was." Marianne settled against the counter, watching him carefully as he moved around the room. Her throat constricted at the thought of him speaking with her cousin. "Did Gideon say anything more about me ...?"

Anthony stopped. He looked at her over his shoulder, his profile basked in a soft grey light from outside. Even in this place, where he absolutely did not belong, he looked perfect. Everything about him was perfect. Whatever he said next could not change that, even if he had gone and agreed to marry Eliana to save them both. She would still want him.

"He mentioned your discussion, yes." About marriage, she took that to mean. "He thought it was the reason for your detour here. I hesitated to come here, for I thought you deserved time to think. Perhaps it was selfish of me to interrupt your deliberation. But I wanted to see you, and if I am not selfish today, I know I will regret it for the rest of my life."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"You're right. I owe you an explanation," he whispered, approaching her. He settled on the other side of the counter. "It was as we thought. Warren came to London in hopes of convincing me to marry his daughter. He knew we were here and sought to stop us before it was too late."

Her throat went dry. "What ... What did you say back?"

"I told him that I knew everything, Marianne. About De Laurier, about what we saw. I confronted him with the truth, and he confirmed that my father's death was likely caused by treatments De Laurier gave him to try and preserve his life, which was already fine." His face flickered in pain.

"It was of little comfort to me. I've realized that knowing how my father died does not make mourning him any easier. And yet, the truth had to be known. And as for you and I ..."

He reached for her hands across the island. Marianne's breath hitched as he laced his fingers with hers, watching their hands entwine with his easy smile. He stroked her knuckles, gaze softening as he raised his eyes to hers.

"What I discovered has bought Warren's silence. But I am not naive enough to believe we will be safe forever." Anthony paused, holding her hands tighter. "And even if we were safe ... Even if there were no external reasons forcing us together ... I would want to be by your side forever. Marianne, I ..."

He faltered, his eyes glistening with tears. Marianne stole her hands away, running around the island and throwing herself into his embrace. Anthony seized her, holding her close. She relished the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, knowing that she belonged there and likely always had.

She pulled away to look at him and ensure she had not misunderstood him. In the second that followed, Anthony leaned down to kiss her, seizing her lips in his own and leaving her not struggling for breath but breathless. It was everything she dreamed. His hands pressed into her back, securing her against him. He pulled away, resting his face against hers, rubbing his nose against her cheek like he couldn't believe she was real.

"Will you marry me?" he breathed into her skin. "Marianne, will you marry me?"

"Do you even need to ask? Has my love for you not been clear this whole time despite my best efforts at hiding it?" She took his face in her hands, looking deeply into his eyes. "There is no one else I could ever want. Yes, I will marry you. And yes, I do love you. But only if you are sure—"

He kissed her again, with even more passion than the first time. She supposed she always had talked too much, and it was his way of reminding her.

"No more questions. No more doubts. No more denial," Anthony said, taking her hand and kissing it. "I love you. You are where I belong—my home. And I shall live there for as long as it stands. For as long as you permit."

"This is worth it, isn't it?" she more said than asked, thinking of her parents, his parents, and everyone else who had loved each other even when it was hard.

"Worth everything, my love."