She smiled. "So you remember."
"Remember what?"
"That you once thought love could be written into a contract."
Nathaniel looked at her. "And now?"
"Now?"
He reached into his pocket. Evelyn noticed the small box; her smile disappeared. "Nathaniel..."
He opened it. Inside was a ring—not the ring she wore, but a new one: simple, elegant, a small stone surrounded by delicate gold.
She stared. "We are already married."
"Of course."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Correcting my first mistake."
She laughed. "You have had many."
"This is the important one." He knelt. Evelyn's eyes filled. "I cannot promise you an easy life."
"I don't want one."
"I cannot promise that I will always know what to say."
"You never do." He smiled.
"I cannot promise that I will stop worrying."
"I would be disappointed if you did."
"But I can promise that I will choose you." He held out the ring. "Not because the succession needs an heir." Her lips trembled. "Not because my family expects it." He looked at her. "Because I love you."
She took his hand. "Yes."
He slipped the ring onto her finger, and then she kissed him.
The kiss was interrupted by a crash from the hallway. They separated. Mrs. Mercer appeared at the door.
"Your son has knocked over a vase."
Nathaniel closed his eyes. "Was it expensive?"
"Yes."
He sighed. "Of course it was."
Evelyn laughed. Mrs. Mercer looked at them. "You should both know that he has also escaped his nurse."
Nathaniel stood. "Where is he?"
Mrs. Mercer pointed toward the stairs. A small pair of feet disappeared around the corner. Nathaniel stared.
"He walks now?"
Evelyn laughed harder. "He has been walking for weeks!"
"You didn't tell me!"
"You were busy being a duke."
Nathaniel rushed after the child; Evelyn followed. The little boy disappeared into the library. Nathaniel found him beside a low table. He picked him up.
"You are trouble."
The child laughed. Nathaniel looked at Evelyn. "He has your sense of humor."
"No, he has yours."
"That is worse."
Their son reached for Evelyn. She took him; Nathaniel stood beside them. For a moment, the three of them simply looked at one another. The room was warm. The rain tapped softly against the windows. The old house no longer felt like a monument to a family that had been; it felt alive.
"You do?" She leaned against him.
"Yes, I have for years."
"You still need practice."
"Almost. That was almost beautiful." She smiled. "Now I think marriage is the reason I want more."
"And now? I once thought one child was the entire purpose of marriage."
"What?" Evelyn looked at him.
Then he laughed. He placed a hand gently over hers. "I am delighted."
"You sound shocked."
"We're doing this again?" A different kind of happiness filled his face. He smiled. "Yes. Another child."
"What? Wait." Then he stopped. He kissed her. "No. Are you complaining? So this is a violation? We did. I thought we agreed: one heir."
"And very well, you have done this before." She laughed harder, then stood again, then sat.