“I worship the night you knocked on my door,” he whispered, raising his head up to meet her lips in a soft, searing kiss. “That is the only fate I care about—that the love of my life was sent to me when I needed her most.”
She smiled against his lips. “And that the love ofmylife was sent to me when I needed him most.”
She kissed him deeply, running her hands through his silky hair, curling into him as he held her close. He draped one arm over her legs, his hand curving around her to rest against the small of her back, while his other hand cradled her cheek, caressing her skin as he kissed her in return.
She did not know if he had done it deliberately, but it was rather perfect that he had told his story and confessed his love in the library, surrounded by all of the books she adored. All of the romantic tales and soaring epics, the adventures and perils, and, of course, the happy endings that never failed to make her heart leap.
Ours will be the happiest,she told herself, believing it with every fiber of her being. If John could be an exception, it stood to reason that Lionel could be, too.
As Lionel kissed her slowly and fiercely, time itself seemed to slow around them. She sank deeper into his embrace, losing herself in his kiss and his hold upon her, certain that if she just kept kissing him, as often as possible, then they could make the clock stop altogether. For theirs, she was sure, was a love that time itself would stand still for.
“I love you,” she murmured, warm and safe and happy in his arms.
“As I love you,” he whispered, kissing her again.
EPILOGUE
One Year Later…
“Amelia! Amelia, where are you?” Rebecca’s voice echoed through the hallways of Westyork, bringing a smile to Amelia’s lips.
“I am in here, Rebecca!” she shouted back from the drawing room, where she had just been resting her eyes for a moment.
It had been weeks since she had slept properly, though Lionel had tried everything to help. He had massaged her temples, fed her cup after cup of bitter, medicinal tea, had held her so tightly that she feared he was trying to suffocate her into slumber, and had even read to her as she sipped a glass of warm milk. Among other things.
Rebecca exploded into the drawing room, wearing a pale expression of utter panic. “My gown is not right, Amelia. I have just tried it on, and it is not right at all. I do not know what hashappened. I wore it yesterday so the seamstress could make any adjustments and it was perfectly fine—how can it have changed so much? Did the seamstress sabotage it?”
“The gown is beautiful,” Amelia reassured, sitting up. “You are nervous, that is all. It is quite natural. Why, when I had my debut, I was so nervous that I almost tripped down the stairs when my name was called and, as you already know, I suspect I broke almost every toe on my first dance partner’s feet. But you, my dear, are ready for this.”
Rebecca fanned herself with her hand. “I do not know that I am, Amelia. No, I think I ought to postpone until next year. Or, perhaps, I can make my debut during the summer instead.” She huffed out a breath. “Where is my brother? I must tell him at once.”
“He is picking herbs in the garden for my evening tea,” Amelia replied, turning her gaze toward the garden doors, marveling at the beauty of it. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, bathing everything in a majestic, almost unreal bronzed glow.
“Well, we must find him!” Rebecca cried. “We are going to Londontomorrow, Amelia, and I cannot do it.”
Chuckling softly, Amelia offered out her arm to Rebecca, and the two women made their way through the garden doors and into the crisp air. It was as refreshing as a cool drink on a feverishly hot day, and Amelia lifted her gaze to the sunshine, closing her eyes against it as she drew in a deep breath of that wondrous air.
“There is no time for savoring the moment!” Rebecca urged, pulling Amelia along, entering the garden through the creaky gate.
They searched every walled square of the magnificent gardens, calling Lionel’s name as they went, but it seemed they kept passing one another, as Lionel shouted back.
“Meet at the bridge!” Amelia said, laughing all the while.
The gardens were exceptionally beautiful, but they could also be very confusing at times. She had lost count of the times she had gotten lost within their remarkable walls.
Finally, as the two women walked into the center square, they found Lionel. He stood waiting on the curve of the bridge, peering over at the koi that swam lazily in the water below.
“Where is the catastrophe today?” Lionel asked with a grin, gaining a sharp look from Amelia.
He stifled a laugh and offered a look of apology to his wife in return.
“The catastrophe is that I am not debuting this year,” Rebecca told him. “I simply cannot do it. I am not prepared. My gown is awful. I cannot breathe when I think about entering the Assembly Rooms, and… yes, I feel quite sick. As such, I think it would be best if I waited.”
Lionel held out his hand, beckoning for his wife to join him. Amelia wandered up to him, slipping her arms around his waist as he puthisarm around her shoulders, pulling her close.
“Is she all right?” he whispered.
“She will be,” Amelia whispered back. “She is just panicking.”
