Page 92 of A Foreign Crown
“This is enchanting.”
Candles and lanterns hung at every turn, the garden lit well enough to glow with a fairylike warmth.
“Tell me more of your father and how things went at home,” Layton said.
As Aribella recounted to him her last moments with Father, she could feel only peace. Wiping a tear from her eyes felt sweet. “I will miss him until my own dying breath, but I’m glad he went in such a hopeful manner.”
“And Lord Bartholomew has inherited the estate?”
“Oh yes.”
“And how could you leave it?”
She turned to him and appreciated the genuine concern she saw in his expression. “His Grace is a good man. Once I declined his offer of marriage, he invited me to stay at the estate whenever and for as long as I ever desire, for which I’m grateful. But my father said something important to me. As I walked the corridors, trailing my fingers along the stone walls, I could feel nothing of love, nothing that fulfilled my desire to be with... my father.” She cleared her throat. “Or you. As soon as Father left, I realized there is nothing for me on the Sumter estate, just as Father had predicted.”
“I’m relieved to hear it, and I can well understand this sentiment.” Layton stepped closer. “I have found nothing can diminish my desire for you. Not distance, not time. I have thought only of you.”
She searched his face as he wrapped his arms around her, tipping his head, and she said, “I have dreamed of this moment every day since our separation.”
“I as well. I find I cannot be apart from you. The only solace, the only comfort I seek, is with you.”
As she lifted her chin, he found her mouth with his own. The warmth of his lips caressed her with an insistent, gentle touch, again and again as if repeating over and over, “I love you.” She was filled with such a powerful response that she could only cling tighter to him and allow his love to flow through her.
He pulled her closer against him until she was certain nothing more would ever stand between them. At the moment when she thought her knees might buckle beneath her, he paused, kissed her once more, and then eased back enough that she could look into his eyes.
“I love you, Aribella. I want nothing more than for you to be by my side forever.”
“And I love you. It is almost too much. I love you more than I thought possible.”
He dropped to one knee.
And she sucked in a breath, holding it, lest this happiest of moments fly away.
“I meant to save this moment for tomorrow, with my grandmother’s ring and a beautiful sunset behind us, but I cannot be restrained. The words come unbidden to my lips, and I must speak. Please, my dearest love, won’t you be my wife?”
She lifted a hand to her mouth, drinking in the beauty, the power of the moment, and then knelt in front of him. “Yes, Layton, yes. I never knew such happiness was available for me. I will be yours forever.”
He stood, scooped her in his arms, and lifted her to her feet. “I do feel sad about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I have stolen your chance to be the Duchess of Sumter.”
Her smile started small and then grew. “I don’t mind a bit.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you’ve made me a princess of Oldenburg. Your princess.” She raised a hand up to his face.
Then he pressed his lips to hers again, a kiss full of promises. She knew life would be full of sweet moments just like this one.
Epilogue
London, 1813
Aribella stood outside at VauxhallGardens, surrounded by the Wilhelm princes. She knew few people in London, but as this group of tall, broad-shouldered men laughed with her, a crowd had gathered near them, watching—a crowd of only women.
Under her breath, she muttered, “I apologize that I don’t know any one of them to offer introductions.”
