In the week since she had last seen him, a remarkable transformation had occurred. His features had lost some of their gauntness and once again had a healthy colour. His cheeks were smoothly shaven; his hair clipped neatly. Every aspect of him spoke of ease, and yet there was a hesitancy in his manner.

Jane spoke first. “I—I did not know you were here.”

“Did your father not tell you?”

She shook her head. “I only saw the solicitor.”

He grimaced. “I apologize for that. It may not have been necessary, but I wished to take no chances on my errand.”

“What errand is that?”

“You may recall that I lack the gift of words.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did you finish my book?”

“Yes.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “I shall fetch it for you.”

Mr. Vincent held his hand out, with a deep entreaty written on his face. “No. No, it is for you. Did you—did you understand it?”

No longer trusting her legs to support her, Jane sank into the nearest chair. “I think I did.”

Steepling his fingers together, Mr. Vincent pressed them against his lips and nodded. He studied her, looking for an answer in her form. Then, as if he could not stand the pain of wondering, he turned from her to the globe on her father’s desk. Spinning it idly, he said, “Perhaps then, you understand—no. I will not play at guessing games.” Stopping the globe, he turned back to her. “I have given you no reason . . . and yet. Miss Ellsworth, I have come here tonight to ask for your hand in marriage. Will you—will you say yes?” His voice cracked on the last word.

Jane opened her mouth, but the joy, where she had expected nothing but fear, stopped her breath with a single sob.

Mr. Vincent’s face dropped. In that moment of vulnerability, she realized that he was younger than she had taken him for.

He nodded and stepped back, his mask of gruff distance returning. “Of course. My apologies. I will not trouble you further.”

“Wait!” Jane stood, realizing that he had mistaken her pause for a refusal. “Yes! Oh, please, yes.”

Slowly, as if glamour were being stripped away to reveal a true dawn, his face brightened. “Do you mean it?”

Jane nodded. She reached out, wanting to enfold this gruff bear of a man in her arms and comfort him, to make magic together, and to watch the world grow old with him. He met her halfway, and the last reservations fell away as they embraced.

Though he denied a skill at words, everything Mr. Vincent said in that tender moment brought Jane unbearable joy. She sighed and pressed her head against his broad chest. He tucked his chin over her head, and they fit together as neatly as a puzzle. “There is one more thing you should know.” His words rumbled and vibrated through her being.

“Yes?”

She could feel the tension come back into his frame. “Vincent is not my surname.”