I couldn’t look away from his eyes. Life was opening up before me like rose petals, in mesmerizing, mysterious whirls.

“My dearest Johanna, would you reconsider my proposal?” The words came on a soft breath, as if straight from Theo’s soul. “Vincent says, If you hear a voice within say you cannot do something, then by all means do that thing, and that voice will be silenced. And so, I must ask.” Theo moved half a step closer. “Would you, Johanna Bonger, do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

The gaslights flickered in their sconces. The room was holding its breath. I had nothing to hold, because with each word he’d uttered, a small puff of air had left my lungs, until they were empty.

I’d always thought love was a mad rush, a desperate burning, an instant cry of the heart for another. But during my stay in Paris, love had misted over me in slow sparkling drops like a soft summer rain. “Yes.”

He slowly bent his head.

The reality of the kiss was altogether different from reading about the experience in what my best friend, Anna, called my silly novels. The heat that’d been tingling on my cheeks now tingled where our lips met. Warmth infused me, but not like the fire in the grate that I would no longer feel the second I stepped away. This warmth seeped into my heart, into my bones, and settled in.

For the first time in my life, I felt as if I were standing on the precipice of the passion my books had promised. I swayed toward Theo until I was leaning against him, grasping his arms.

Then Dries’s shoes scuffed on the floor in the hallway, and we startled apart.

Theo used our last second alone to whisper, “Would you mind saying it again?”

The room spun with me. “Yes.”

Dries paused in the doorway, glancing from the irrepressible smile on my face to the one on Theo’s, while he remained subdued. “Congratulations.”

Could he not manage better than that flat tone?

Theo didn’t seem to notice. His smile only grew. He held on to my hands. “I asked for your brother’s permission, and I also told Vincent what I planned.”

Of course. This was why everyone had left us alone so suddenly.

Summoned by my thoughts, Annie appeared in the kitchen door. Her blonde hair was twisted into a severe bun, her dress a nondescript brown, with added material in the front to mask that she was expecting. “Best wishes to you both.”

Her pregnancy had brought her no joy, and neither did our news. Her tone was closer to grim than felicitous.

I told myself to let go of all frustration and hurt at the lackluster response. My brother and his wife regretted their marriage, and neither wished the same fate on me.

I beamed all the brighter. “Thank you, Annie.”