5 days later, February 19th, 1857. The letter arrived by special courier at dawn. Emma was having tea with Charles's mother in the Dower House when it came. Lady Winterborne, a kind, gentle woman who'd been nothing but welcoming, opened it with shaking hands. It's from the court. She read quickly, her eyes widening. Oh. Oh my.
What does it say? Emma could barely breathe. Lady Winterborne looked up, tears streaming. We won. The judge ruled in our favor. The debts are void. Charles is free. Emma's teacup slipped from her fingers, shattering on the floor. She didn't notice. Free? She whispered. All of it. The fraud is proven. Lord Harrington is being investigated criminally. And Charles, Lady Winterborne laughed through her tears. Charles is completely, utterly free.
Emma stood on shaking legs. I need to, I need to see him. He's at the townhouse. Peton was sending word there first. Emma ran. Ran through the gardens. Through the gate. Up the path to the main house. Servants stared, but she didn't care. She burst through the door calling his name. Charles! Charles!
He appeared at the top of the stairs, the letter in his hand, his face transformed by something Emma had never seen there before. Joy. Pure. Unfiltered. Uncomplicated joy. Emma, she flew up the stairs. He caught her halfway, lifting her, spinning her, both of them laughing and crying at once.
We won! he gasped. We actually won. I know. I know. Emma cupped his face, kissing him through tears. You're free. We're free. Marry me. The words tumbled out, unplanned and perfect. Emma froze. What?
Charles set her down gently, keeping his hands on her waist. Marry me, Emma. Not someday. Not eventually. Now. As soon as the banns can be read. Marry me and let me spend the rest of my life proving that choosing you was the best decision I ever made.
Emma's vision blurred with tears. Charles, I know we should wait. Let the scandal die down. Be proper. But Emma, his voice cracked. I've waited 18 years for you. I don't want to wait anymore. Neither do I. Emma smiled through tears. Yes. Yes, I'll marry you.
Charles kissed her. Deep and fierce and full of promise. Kissed her like she was air and he was breathing for the first time. And somewhere in the townhouse, servants pretended not to notice their Duke kissing his future duchess at the top of the stairs. Finally doing exactly what his heart demanded.