As the butler and footmen dragged a kicking and screaming Markham out, Rhystan disappeared for a moment but then returned with a satisfied smile on his face. Sarani shot him a questioning look. His grin widened. “We’ll see how he likes being knocked out, thrown on a wagon, and shipped to Australia.”
“Can you do that?”
“He threatened and blackmailed a peer. It’s the least of what he deserves.”
Sarani opened her mouth to reply and then gaped in surprise when the duchess stepped up beside her and took her hand. She nearly keeled over in shock. Her Grace’s face was so hard it seemed made of marble as she addressed the now-silent throng. “If any of you are of the same opinion as that loathsome man, feel free to join him.”
When Ravenna came to stand on one side of her mother and Rhystan stepped up to Sarani’s other side, Sarani reeled at the absolute declaration of support by one of the most powerful families in England. In defense of her.
She couldn’t breathe, her throat was so clogged with emotion.
When all was said and done, a good number of the guests left. They’d come for the scandal and gotten one, and they were simply too set in their ways to change.
Among those who remained, Sarani recognized the French marquis and then froze in recognition of another. She went mute, her body shaking, as the man approached.
“Lord Beckforth,” she said. “You’re here.”
The earl smiled. “Does that surprise you?”
“I thought all Englishmen were like Talbot and Markham. And that you would want nothing to do with the half-blooded daughter of your disowned aunt.”
He laughed, and for a moment, she saw traces of her mother in his smile. The familiar sight of it made her eyes burn.
“I would like to invite you to dinner, if that’s not too forward. I’d love for my family to meet you and for you to get to know us. You are welcome to stay at Lockhart Manor for however long you like.”
Sarani’s heart soared. “I would love to meet them. Thank you, Lord Beckforth.”
“Henry,” he said. “My name, dear cousin, is Henry.”
* * *
Rhystan dimly registered Beckforth talking with Sarani. All he could hear replaying in his head was her voice calling off their engagement. It gutted him, left him in a state of strange inertia. He felt untethered as though his ship was unmoored in the middle of the ocean with no engine, no sail, and no rudder. She was all those things to him.
The truth hit him with the force of a snapped mast.
Because he fucking loved her.
“No,” he said to no one in particular, shaking his head. “No.”
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Sarani said, glancing up at him. “Are you well?”
He took hold of her elbow. “No, I’m not well at all. Please excuse us, Beckforth. I have something to say to my fiancée.”
Sarani’s expression was confused, considering she’d just declared to the entire ballroom that the engagement was over. The earl shot him a perceptive grin and nodded, making himself scarce.
“Your Grace, what are you doing?” she asked.
“Setting the record straight,” he said, gaining conviction by the second.
“What do you mean?”
Huge apprehensive hazel eyes stared into his, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance. It was more for him, however. He wanted to scream it, get it out before it burned a hole in his chest. Shout it to the rooftops so that there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that she was his.
“I love you.”
She stared at him in shock.
“I have loved you from the very first day I set eyes upon you. Things beyond our control drove us apart, but then we were given another chance. I won’t lose you again.”
“You love me?” she whispered.
“You are the only woman for me,” he said. “You are my match in every way, and whether we make our home here or on the seas or in Joor or a quiet seaside village somewhere, I need you by my side.” Rhystan swiped at the tear that rolled down her cheek and clasped her hands. “If you’ll have me, I mean.”
The entire ballroom went quiet. Again. Those who had stayed, hoping for something more, were about to be rewarded. Because she was either going to say no, whereupon the scandal sheets would be rife with caricatures cataloging his epic rejection, or she would say yes, and a ducal wedding would be the toast of the season.
“What about the dukedom? And the scandal?” Her eyes were wide and achingly transparent, so many emotions running through them. “People will talk, Rhystan. You saw how many of them left tonight.”
“I don’t care about any of them,” he said. “‘A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.’” He sank to a knee, right there in the middle of the ballroom. Whispers rose in a crescendo around them. “‘The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I unselfed will be together, indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.’”
Her throat worked, tears gathering at the powerful, poetic words. “Rumi?”
He nodded. “He called it ‘A Moment of Happiness,’ but I insist on a lifetime of it. Marry me, Sarani, and make me the happiest of men.”
“What about Ravenna?” Sarani asked, her beautiful face filled with worry.
“What about her? She’s thrilled beyond belief.”
Sarani shook her head. “No, I meant, her marriage prospects.”
“If any suitor thinks she’s not worthy of an offer of marriage because of my wife’s heritage, then he can go sod himself with a pointy stick.”
“Your Grace!”
He shrugged. It was true. If a bigot like that refused his sister, then she was better off without him. He’d prefer Ravenna marry a poor man who loved her for her than a wealthy, titled fop with hate in his heart and ignorance in his brain. If he could get the headstrong chit to marry at all, that was.
He sucked in a shallow breath, his voice lowering. “So what do you say, my love? Shall we jump on this ship and sail it to parts unknown?”
Sarani gazed at him, cheeks damp with tears. Were they happy ones? The love of his life dropped to her knees with him, cupped his face in her palms, and kissed him. People gasped, and his sister might have given a scream of joy, but Rhystan did not pay it any mind. The only thing that consumed him was Sarani. When she broke away, he suddenly felt uncertain.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
Her gaze searched his, for forever it seemed, but he waited because in the end, it was her choice. He’d chosen her, but she also had to choose him.