Page 157 of The Boxing Baroness

He smiled—one of those rare, once-in-a-blue-moon smiles she’d been privileged to see. “I believe your mother is behind it. According to Elliot—he is the one who broke a dozen laws by giving me the document, in case you want to have us both jailed—this came through channels so circuitous it put the Byzantine Empire to shame.”

Marianne thought back to her conversation with her mother in Reims and smiled. “I should have guessed. She asked about you.”

“Did she? You never told me that.”

“No, it—well, at the time it just seemed pointless to mention it.”

He nodded; that last night had been bittersweet agony.

“How did she even know of my existence?”

“Jo told her about us.” Her face heated. “Everything.”

“Ah.”

Marianne was pleased to see she wasn’t the only one blushing.

“Was she shocked?” he asked.

“No, she was rather, er, proud, I think.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Not proud that you and I were—er, well, you know—but proud that I had attracted such a significant prize.”

“A prize, am I?”

Marianne gave a bark of laughter. “As if you didn’t already know that.” She hesitated, and then added, “I stopped reading the newspapers because of you.”

The amusement slid from his face and he leaned toward her, taking the hand that wasn’t currently holding the key to her happiness. “I hope you didn’t believe everything you read?”

“I don’t know what I believed.” She glanced down at their joined hands, not quite believing he was really there, holding her hand, sitting right in front of her. She looked up. “I could hardly expect you to remain a bachelor all your days.”

“I would have. And I will do. If you won’t marry me.” His beautiful green eyes were warm and hopeful—a suggestion of spring after what had been the longest winter of her life. “Let me remind you that your chief concern was our unequal status. That is no longer an issue.”

“This—” She held up the letter that turned her into a peeress with the stroke of a quill. “This will be a thin shield against the barbs you will suffer if you marry me,” she warned him, her voice shaky with poorly suppressed hope. “Are you quite sure that you won’t eventually resent me, Sin? Because I could not go through with this if I believed that—”

He moved like a blur, catching her in his arms and crushing her mouth with his.

Nothing of any sense happened for at least five minutes.

“Where’s one of those fussy settees when you need them?” he muttered, coming up for air reluctantly.

She laid her head on his chest, thrilling at the familiar masculine scent of him and the strong beat of his heart.

“It will have to be a small ceremony—my mother died Christmas Day.”

She looked up, “Oh, Sin! I’m so sorry.”

“She died years ago for me and my sisters. This was a happy release. For both my mother and my aunt Julia.” His kiss-bruised lips curved. “You will like my aunt. And she will be delighted with you.” He stopped and cocked his head. “But I am taking your answer for granted.”

She burrowed her face into his coat, probably ruining it. “You know it is yes,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head. “I came prepared with a large sack and manacles in case you needed persuasion.” He tilted her face up to him and kissed her, a gentle reacquainting kiss this time. “I never want another year like this last one, my love.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know it was—”

“Shh.” He kissed her lightly. “You did what you thought was best for me. I was furious with you every single hour of every day, but I knew your heart was in the right place.”