It was a letter. Slowly, Constance began to read, her heart filling with growing astonishment as she took in each word.
‘I should like to declare to all who read this that I am nothing short of a fool. I am a gentleman who has had cause to be injured by the words of another and therefore I set my entire mind and heart against all affection and love. Indeed, I even went so far as to write a letter to the young lady who searched desperately for a gentleman of the same desires as she: a marriage where love and affection grew strong together. I wrote harsh, cruel words which were undeserved, speaking from the pain and upset of my heart. It was foolish to do so, and I wrote those lines without pausing even to think. I admit to all of London society who will read this letter and see the words which I write here, that it showed great stupidity and lack of consideration on my part. I do so without hesitation, for I know that I have injured one particular young lady by my words, and it is to her that this letter is written.
I confess to you not only that I was the gentleman who wrote such harsh words, but that I was also the gentleman who found himself drawn to you but refused to allow his heart to admit it. I hurt you when I laughed at your earnest desires. I told you that love and affection were not attributes anyone ought to seek, given how little joy or happiness they brought. I remarked that anyone who permitted such a thing into their heart, knowing the pain it might then cause them, was nothing short of foolish. My dear lady, I admit openly now that I was wrong. It was only my pain that spoke, and I used that emotion to hide from myself the truth of my heart. I will admit that truth to you now. I will confess that I have fallen in love with you and that my only desire is to forever be in your company. I should never have said what I did as we walked together in the park, I should never have written that letter with those remarks, and I only pray that you might find it within yourself to forgive me. The realization that you might now be chosen by someone else has torn my heart, flesh, and bone asunder. I care for you. The only desire of my heart is for you. I pray that you have not been stolen away by another as yet, for I will do whatever I must to place myself back into your heart again. If I am to have your sweetness, if I am to be blessed with your company once more, then I shall forever be grateful. Look upon me as a fool, if you must, for that is what I am, but pray turn your sweet eyes upon me again. Consider whether you might be willing to forgive my idiocy, knowing that you have a gentleman who now realizes how much he cares for you. It is my fervent hope that you feel a little of the same for then, mayhap, we shall both find what we have been praying for.’
Constance read all of this with a pounding heart, her mouth a little ajar as her eyes struggled to take it all in.
Lord Seaton?
Was it that the gentleman who had written this letter was also the one who had sent her such a cruel response to her original letter in the ‘London Ledger’? Surely it could not be! Her hand fell to her side as she lifted her head, looking straight at Lady Yardley.
“I cannot quite believe this.”
Lady Yardley smiled and squeezed her hand and, as Constance’s vision blurred again, she looked over the letter and took in the name written there as if to confirm it to herself.
Lord Seaton.
“He is waiting for you, my dear.” A gentle hand on Constance’s shoulder directed her across the ballroom. “He waits to see your response. I would urge you, however, to go to him. Only do as you wish.” Her eyes softened. “What does your heart say?”
Constance did not give a single word of reply. Instead, she simply handed the Ledger back to Lady Yardley and, without so much as a glance at Lady Winterbrook, made her way directly across the ballroom to Lord Seaton. She had to weave in and out of the crowd, but kept her eyes fixed on him, her heart so furious in its beating, it was the only thing that she could hear. Lord Seaton was looking at her but, as she drew closer, his eyes dropped, and when he came fully into her view, she saw the uncertainty of his stance. He was shifting from one foot to the other, his hands clasping tightly in front of him and then loosening again. Swirling blue eyes looked up at her, then dropped away again, as if he were preparing himself for whatever it was that she was going to say.
“You wrote this letter, in the Ledger today.”
Constance’s voice was thick with tears, but she held them back with an effort. Finally, Lord Seaton looked directly at her, his eyes locking upon hers.
“Yes. I did. It was the only thing I could think to do, the only way to express my regret and confess the truth of my heart. It was the only way I could be sure that you would hear it all from me.”
Breathing rapidly, Constance attempted to steady herself.
“And you meant every word?
“As though it were written with every beat of my heart.” Taking a step closer, he put one hand out to her. “I have realized, too late, how much I care for you. I took too long to understand what I was searching for. I held myself back for too long before I searched my heart and realized the truth. But that is my confession, Miss Millington, and yes, every word is honest and true. I have held nothing back.”
Biting her lip, Constance lifted her chin just a little, her heart overflowing. All was suddenly wonderful and beautiful and there was no darkness or shadow any longer.
“It is not too late, Lord Seaton,” she told him, watching his eyes round just a little. “It is not too late at all.”
Epilogue
Adam could do nothing but stare at her. Was that truly what she had said, or had his ears chosen to deceive him, giving him hope he did not deserve? It was only when she laughed and looked away, her cheeks filled with color, he realized that, firstly, he had not responded to her and secondly, that yes, hehadheard her correctly. Swallowing hard, he dropped his head and closed his eyes tightly, one hand curling close into a fist to contain the swell of emotions that threatened to overpower him.
“Lord Seaton?”
Lifting his head, he looked back into her wide eyes.
“I can hardly believe the happiness I feel at this moment,” he said by way of reassurance. “It is more than I deserve. I must have hurt you so grievously and yet-”
“Let us not speak of that now.”
When his hand uncurled from the tight fist which he had held it in, Miss Millington moved closer and reached out, her fingers running over his for just a moment – only to jerk her hand back and glance around the room for fear that someone would see them.
How much I want to be close to her at this moment.
Throwing all caution aside, he looked to his left, then, catching her eye, tilted his head in the direction of the open door and moved towards it. Miss Millington, much to his relief, followed him after some minutes and, thereafter, moved past him into a small, quiet room that hid them from prying eyes. It was most improper, of course, but they would only be gone for a few moments, he told himself. He had to have at least one moment alone with her.
Adam stood with his back through the door so that no one would be easily able to enter. Silence washed through the room and, his throat constricting, he suddenly did not know what to say. His gaze held hers steadily, the gentle smile on her face lighting her eyes.
“I will not be presumptuous.” His voice was a little hoarse, and he smiled softly at her. “I will not do anything which we ought not to do, for I want now to confess to you openly that my heart belongs to you, Miss Millington. I did not see it for so long. I rejected the feeling entirely and, in doing so, hurt you grievously. I am sorry for all of my foolishness, for that is what it was. I injured myself also, however, by refusing to permit my heart to be free to love. Now that I have allowed myself to feel all that I do, I am aware of just how great my love and affection is for you. To that end, Miss Millington, I confess that the only desire I have at present is to court you.”
