stood and caressed her cheek. “Why would you think that? Everyone deserves love, even a second time.” He grazed his thumb along her jawline. “You especially. You’ve lost so much.”
The ache in her chest seared for a brief moment before changing into something bright and beautiful. “I’ve also gained a great deal. I have a wonderful stepson. I take it he told you where to find me?”
“He surmised you would stop in Lancaster for the night. I am pleased to find he was correct. He said you were on your way to see the gentleman you preferred, or something similar. I am fervently hoping that is me.”
She nodded, pressing against him. “It is.”
Edmund put his arms around her. “He also told me about Sterling. Poor chap.” He shook his head pityingly.
“Do you really feel sorry for him?”
“Not in the slightest. God, Genie, when I think you might have said yes…” He tightened his hold. “Why didn’t you?”
She twined her arms around his neck. “Because I love you. Having married for love once, I find I cannot do it again without the same depth of emotion.”
“You can’t love me the way you loved Jerome,” he said quietly, with perhaps a touch of sadness.
Genie cupped the back of his head. “Not the same way, no, but just as fiercely. You’re sure about not having a child of your own?”
“You are what I need.” He looked into her eyes, his lips curling into a wry smile. “I was a fool not to tell you that at Blickton. Twice a fool, actually. I saw you when I was twenty, and I was instantly smitten. But I was a young buck on my way to travel the continent, and you were the toast of the Season. I didn’t think I had a chance of winning you.”
“You didn’t even try?”
He let out a low, sharp laugh. “I told you I was a fool. Then, when you arrived at the house party, I was overcome with surprise and joy. It was as if Fortune had given me another chance. I should have told you then what I am here to tell you now, that I love you, that I have loved you, that I will love you until the end of time.”
Genie couldn’t breathe. For a moment, she felt as though she was betraying Jerome, to love this man before her as keenly—but differently—as she had him. “Oh, Edmund.” She kissed him, pressing her body into his and realizing she was now becoming damp from his wet clothes.
Laughing, she pulled back. “You’re getting my dress wet,” she said, laughing.
“Then I shall just have to remove it.” He lifted his hands to her face and gently held her. “Will you marry me, Genie? I realize becoming a countess is a step down, but—”
“Shh.” She put her mouth on his and kissed him soundly. “Now you’re being silly.”
He smiled against her lips. “Perhaps.”
She could hardly believe their fortune at finding each other. “You can truly accept me as I am?”
“I am honored to have you exactly as you are. Just please tell me that I will be enough, that you’ll give me the chance to make you happy.”
Impossibly, love filled her heart, joining with the love she still held for Jerome, for Titus, for Eliza. “You already have.”
Epilogue
February 1811, London
Genie reviewed the names on the guest list for her annual start-of-season ball. Old friends, new friends, family—it was the only Society event Titus attended. He’d become reclusive and unapproachable in the years since his father’s death. Not to her and Edmund, of course. To them, he was a loving son and still the light of her heart.
“Pondering the guest list?” Edmund asked as he came into the sitting room that adjoined their bedchamber. He brushed a kiss against her temple.
“Just looking to see if any of the eligible young women will catch Titus’s eye. It’s my only chance to see that he meets someone.”
Edmund chuckled as he sat down at the table opposite her and picked up the newspaper. “You mustn’t pester him too much. He thinks he’s on a timetable to match me. Which means he has another nine years in which to find his true love.”
Genie looked over at Edmund sharply. “He didn’t really say that, did he?”
“Years ago—when I went to Lakemoor to propose to you.”
“But I wasn’t there.” Genie recalled how he’d arrived at the inn in Lancaster, soaked from the rain. “Do you remember when you found me?”
He peered over the paper at her,