“If you’ll excuse me, my lady,” Clark said with a wink in Griffith’s direction. He shut the door firmly behind himself, and she drew near.

“How did it go?” he asked.

She shrugged. “He won’t be a problem any longer.”

Of course he wanted to know everything, but more importantly, he wanted to know what she would say when he asked her.

“Della, I—” he began.

He stopped speaking when she drew the skirts of her gown up and knelt down on the carpet, looking up at him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She smiled. “Asking you.”

“Asking me . . . ?”

“My dearest Lord Captain Handsome Enormous Arrogant,” she said in a formal tone of voice. “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my husband?”

As she spoke, she held the fake-engagement ring they’d bought together up to him. Its stones glinted in the light.

“You’re proposing to me?” he asked, glancing between the ring and her face.

She nodded. “I wish to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I won’t promise to obey you—”

“Of course not.”

“But I will trust, honor, and love you forever.”

He put his hand out to take the ring.

“No, not until you answer,” she said, pulling it back.

He got down on the rug too, wrapping her in his arms and gazing at her face. “Yes. Yes, I will marry you. I love you, Della.”

“And I you.”

They both looked at his hand as she slid the ring onto his pinky finger.

“Tell me again,” she said.

“I love you.”

“Now kiss me.”

“So demanding,” he said as he complied.

Epilogue

“This is it,” Della said as Sarah gave one last adjustment to her veil. They stood just outside the Duke of Northam’s ballroom. While the duke was feeling better, Griffith wanted his cousin to be as comfortable as possible—which meant having the ceremony close to home. Plus there weren’t a lot of guests—they only wanted people who truly wished to be there, not people who saw it as a social opportunity. Or people who’d disowned her, which was why her parents were not in attendance.

“This is it,” Sarah repeated, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “You look lovely.”

“And nervous,” Della added. She stepped up to the glass and regarded her reflection. Her cheeks shone pink, even through the lace of the veil.

But she had to admit Sarah was right; she did look lovely.

The gown was white, with roses made of white fabric at the neckline. More roses were scattered on the gown’s skirt, which also had a few rows of ruffles near the hem.