“Another Christmas Alone,” She Thought — Until a Duke’s Carriage Broke Down at Her Gate
Chapter 28
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Rosamond wiped her eyes. "Perhaps you should offer him a biscuit.""I have already lost a sandwich.""A tragic sacrifice."Julian looked at her. She was standing beneath the apple blossoms, her cheeks pink from laughter, her dark hair stirred by the breeze. And suddenly, the carefully rehearsed speech seemed entirely unnecessary.He approached her. "Rosamond."She smiled. "Yes?""I had intended to make a rather impressive declaration.""Had you?""Yes.""How disappointing that Pickles has interrupted.""Devastating."She laughed. Julian took both her hands. "But perhaps it is better this way."Something in his voice made her grow still. "Julian..."He knelt before her. Rosamond gasped.From his pocket, he took a small velvet box: inside lay a delicate ring set with a sapphire, surrounded by tiny diamonds. It was beautiful, but Rosamond barely saw it; she was looking at his face."Rosamond Fairchild," Julian said, "I have lived in grand houses, attended splendid celebrations, and traveled farther than I once imagined possible." He smiled. "Yet the happiest Christmas of my life began with a broken wheel, a damaged gate, and a woman who informed me that I was dripping on her kitchen floor."Rosamond laughed through sudden tears. "You were.""I know." He held her hands more tightly. "You have taught me that love does not ask us to forget those we have lost; it asks us to make room for the life still waiting to be lived." Rosamond's tears slipped down her cheeks. "I love you," he said, "not because you need me, but because I cannot imagine a future in which I would not wish to stand beside you." He took a breath. "Will you marry me?"Rosamond looked at him: at the man who had arrived in a snowstorm, the man who had burned an egg, the man who listened when she spoke and never made her feel that her dreams were too small or her opinions too large—the man who had brought laughter back into her home without asking her to surrender anything that made it hers."Yes," she whispered.Julian's eyes widened.Rosamond laughed. "Yes, Julian. Of course I will."He rose and gathered her into his arms. She held him tightly. Above them, apple blossoms stirred in the breeze, and somewhere nearby, Pickles barked triumphantly, having finally conquered the picnic basket.They married in September. The ceremony took place in the little village church near Willowmere.Rosamond had refused the suggestion of a grand London wedding. "I should prefer to marry the man I love," she told Julian, "rather than spend three months being introduced to people who wish to examine my wedding gown."Julian had laughed. "An excellent argument."