"What happens now?" she asked with the sort of practical curiosity that had always followed her.
"Now we begin again," he replied with growing conviction that their future held possibilities neither had dared to envision during their darkest moments. "Not as strangers forced together by circumstance, but as partners who have chosen each other freely and completely."
"A real marriage," she said with wonder at the concept that had seemed impossible mere hours earlier.
"The realest marriage imaginable," he confirmed with the sort of passionate certainty that left no room for doubt or reservation. "Built on love rather than convenience, sustained by genuine affection rather than mere duty."
She moved closer to him, her dark eyes bright with emotions that needed no words for expression. "Then perhaps it is time we properly consummated this real marriage we have discovered?"
Her bold suggestion sent heat coursing through his veins while simultaneously filling him with the sort of protective tenderness that marked genuine devotion. "Are you certain? After everything that has passed between us, all the pain and misunderstanding..."
"I am certain that I love you beyond reason or reservation," she replied with simple honesty that carried more persuasive power than elaborate seduction could have achieved. "I am certain that our future together holds more promise than any alternative I could imagine. And I am certain that we have wasted quite enough time allowing pride and fear to keep us apart."
"Then come," he said with growing conviction, offering his arm with gallant courtesy. "Let us begin this real marriage with the sort of honest intimacy that we should have shared from the beginning."
As they made their way from the library toward the private chambers that would finally serve their intended purpose, both carried with them the knowledge that they had found something rarer and more precious than either had dared to hope for when their practical arrangement began. Love had triumphed over circumstance, understanding had conquered misunderstanding, and the future stretched before them bright with possibilities that their marriage of convenience had never seemed likely to encompass.
Behind them, London continued to buzz with information ofthe morning's dramatic events, as news of Pembroke's disgrace and the Duke's vindication spread through every drawing room and coffeehouse in the metropolis. Yet for Lucian and Evangeline, the true victory lay not in society's approval but in their success in claiming the happiness that had always been within their reach, waiting only for courage sufficient to seize it.
Their story had begun with practical necessity and mutual benefit, but it would continue with the sort of genuine partnership that marked the finest marriages in any age. And if their love proved strong enough to weather the storms that had nearly destroyed it, perhaps it would prove equal to whatever challenges the future might bring to test their hard-won happiness.
The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Grosvenor House, illuminating a residence that had been transformed from a house of careful strangers into a home where love had finally found its proper place. And in the days to come, that love would light their way toward a future neither had dared to dream possible when their convenient arrangement first began.
Epilogue
Six months later – Ravenshollow Manor, Yorkshire
The morning light filtering through the tall windows of the Rose Chamber cast golden patterns across the floor where Evangeline sat reading, her dark hair gleaming in the sunshine as she turned the pages of a volume that had arrived in yesterday's post from London. The sight of her there, so perfectly at home in their Yorkshire sanctuary, never failed to fill Lucian with a satisfaction so profound it bordered on the mystical—as though some essential piece of the universe had finally settled into its proper place.
She had taken to spending her mornings in this particular chamber since their return from London, claiming that the eastern light was ideal for correspondence and that the view of the restored rose gardens provided inspiration for the improvements she was planning throughout the estate. Yet Lucian suspected her true motivation lay in the chamber's association with their early days of marriage, when tentative friendship had begun the slow transformation into something far more precious.
"You appear remarkably pleased with yourself this morning," she observed without looking up from her book, though he could detect the smile that played about her lips. "Rather like Wellington when he has successfully purloined something from the kitchen that was not intended for his consumption."
"An apt comparison," he agreed with the sort of comfortable humor that had accompanied their interactions since they had finally abandoned the careful formality that once characterized their discourse. "Though I believe my current satisfactionstems from rather more legitimate acquisitions than our canine companion typically manages."
"Acquisitions?" Her attention shifted from the printed page to his face with the sort of sharp interest that had first attracted him to her remarkable mind. "What manner of acquisitions could prompt such obvious self-congratulation?"
"The sort that require careful timing and considerable discretion to achieve properly," he replied with deliberate evasiveness, moving to settle in the chair beside her reading nook. "Though I confess myself curious about whether you might be amenable to a brief interruption of your literary pursuits?"
She set aside her book with the sort of graceful efficiency that marked all her movements, her dark eyes sparkling with curiosity and something deeper—the sort of intimate affection that still struck him as miraculous despite the months they had spent learning to trust in its permanence.
"For you, Your Grace, I believe I could spare a few moments from my demanding schedule of correspondence and estate management," she said with mock formality that could not disguise the genuine warmth beneath. "What manner of interruption did you have in mind?"
"The sort that requires your presence in the library," he said, rising and offering his arm with ceremonial precision. "I have arranged something that I hope may prove of interest."
The walk to the library provided opportunity for reflection upon the curious transformation that six months of genuine marriage had wrought upon his understanding of happiness and its possibilities. Gone were the days of careful distance and formal courtesy. It was all replaced by the sort of easy intimacy that allowed for comfortable silences as well as passionate discourse. Evangeline had proven herself not merely a suitable duchess but a true partner whose intelligence and strengthcomplemented his own in ways that continued to surprise and delight him.
Their return to Yorkshire had marked the beginning of what felt like an entirely new existence, as they worked together to restore both the estate and their relationship to something approaching its full potential. The tenants, once wary of their scarred duke, had come to appreciate the genuine care that both he and his duchess displayed for their welfare, while the house itself seemed to have awakened from years of slumber as Evangeline's influence brought warmth and life back to rooms that had stood empty too long.
"You have been remarkably secretive these past weeks," she observed as they approached the library doors. "Mysterious correspondence, whispered conferences with Morrison, packages arriving at odd hours and disappearing before I could inquire about their contents. I was beginning to suspect you of conducting some sort of clandestine romance with a London milliner."
"Nothing so scandalous, I fear," he replied with amusement at her teasing accusation. "Though I confess the project has required considerably more intrigue than I initially anticipated."
The library doors stood slightly ajar, revealing nothing of what lay beyond except the familiar scent of leather and old paper. Yet today, it would serve a different purpose. It will be the stage for what he hoped would prove a worthy expression of feelings that words alone seemed inadequate to convey.
"Close your eyes," he instructed as they reached the threshold, his voice carrying a note of nervous anticipation that betrayed how much her reaction meant to him.
"Lucian," she protested with laughing resistance, "what on earth are you planning?"
