"What happened?"
"He was betrayed by someone he trusted."
She knew immediately. "Your father?"
"Yes." Julian sat beside her. "I spent years thinking my father didn't care about me."
Eliza touched his hand.
"And now... now I wish I had asked him."
She squeezed his fingers. "You were young."
"I know."
"Forgive yourself."
He looked at her. "I am trying."
She smiled. "That is enough."
He kissed her. This kiss was different: there was no surprise, no hesitation, no fear. It was a choice.
When they parted, Julian rested his forehead against hers. "I love you."
She closed her eyes. "I love you too."
The words were quiet, but they changed everything.
The six weeks ended two days later. Eliza packed her belongings. Julian found her in the bedroom.
"You are leaving."
"You said I could."
"I did."
He looked at the luggage. His face gave away nothing. That hurt.
"Say something."
He swallowed. "I don't want you to go."
"Then ask me to stay."
He stepped closer. "I am afraid."
"Of what?"
"That if I ask, you will think I am using the promise."
She stared at him. "You still think I would stay because of a foolish sentence?"
"No."
"Then ask."
He took her hands. "Eliza, I don't want a wife because Bellamy needs an heir. I don't want a duchess because society expects one. I don't want someone who merely fits beside me." His voice shook. "I want you."
She cried.
He continued, "I want your arguments, your laughter, your terrible habit of moving my books. I want you correcting my accounts and insulting my curtains. I want to know what you are thinking when you become quiet. I want to grow old with the woman who chased a bird into my drawing room."
She laughed through her tears. "That is a terrible proposal."
"I know."
"Try again."
He dropped to one knee. She covered her mouth.
"Eliza Hart, will you marry me?"
She looked at him. "Yes."
He stood. She kissed him.