Embarrassment and shame twisted inside of her chest as she dragged in another breath.

She had needed help, and Henry had answered without wanting anything in return. But now they would both pay for her decision and would be married by Christmas. He didn’t wish for her to be his bride. He couldn’t.

And now he knew of Ethan and her past.

“I am sorry,” she said, clearing her throat as he shut the door behind them. Tilly circled the middle of her room and threw her arms out to her side, hanging her head. “I am not sure where to start…”

Henry reluctantly released the doorknob and dropped his hand to his side. His knuckles were bruised, and there was a cut by his mouth.

Tilly had done this to him, wrecked him. And now she had crashed into his life and tore that apart as well. Eventually, he would resent her and boredom would set in, and she would wither away while he installed mistresses around London.

“Look at me, sweet.”

Even his voice was rough. It cracked at the same time she felt her heart rip in two. She loved him, but now it was too late. They would never truly know what could have been because of this evening.

“Tilly.” Henry approached, stopping short at her feet.

She refused to look up, knowing full well she would tumble into those dark eyes of his and forget for a moment the evening they had just shared. “You must hate me. I understand. I hate myself.”

Henry bumped his fist gently under her chin, drawing her gaze up to meet his. “I love you. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you because I see in your gorgeous eyes that you don’t believe me. And that’s well enough. But you should know I am nothing, if not consistent, at being excellent at everything I do. That now includes being your husband.”

“I didn’t wish for this to happen. I wasn’t thinking. I knew I had to run away and my mind⁠—”

“Ssh.” He slipped his other hand behind her neck, cradling her as if she were some delicate doll about to shatter. She certainly felt that way.

“You don’t love me. You don’t know me.”

“I fell in love with you the same way we met, all at once. Yes, it is madness, and I can’t explain it. And you will soon learn that it is one of my least favorite things in this world. But I also know I can’t explain what is between you and me, sweet. And I don’t wish to name it. Only to tell you that I love you.”

“I am a ruined woman. I am an actress, Henry! You can’t marry me. I have ruined you. Something is sure to reach the gossip rags of London about this evening…”

“Mr. Greenwald is excellent at his job. The duke meant every word he said about running Roger out of London.”

“My brothers and sisters… Ethan.” She clamped her eyes shut and sobbed. “Roger is the most undesirable human, and he has controlled me these past few months after overhearing me speak to my older sister, Imogen, about my son.”

Henry’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her in for an embrace. But instead of fighting against it, she melted into his body willingly.

“I think I love you, too, Henry. And now we are both in a mess.”

“Not a mess, love, no. I didn’t truly wish to spend Christmas alone anyhow.”

She chuckled, sniffing back her tears. “We become engaged, and now you have a sense of humor.”

He drew back enough for her to notice a small grin on his lips. “I didn’t before?”

“You?” She wiped her tears and looked up at him, his face puffy and bruised. “I know you must care about me because you don’t seem to care for anyone else.”

“What are you saying, Miss Brennan?”

She clucked, fluttering her fingers over the poor state of his handsome face. “You are a grump.”

He laughed, drawing her head close to place a kiss on her cheek. They remained in each other’s arms, silent.

“Come sit on the bed. Those cuts should be washed.”

He struck a match, illuminating the room.

She was shaking, and he noticed, slowly drawing her hand up to his mouth and he kissing it.

“Marry me,” he said earnestly before kissing her.

CHAPTER 9

Snow fell softly outside the window, dusting over the collection of statues in the garden outside of the chapel window.

Christmas.

Henry shifted on his feet, glancing nervously at the stone floors. When he had proposed, he hadn’t expected everything to happen so soon, but here he stood, about to be married to Matilda Brennan, at the duke’s private chapel. The duke and duchess sat before him as witnesses, and the vicar stood behind.

It would be a small wedding, efficient and concise. Tilly said she hadn’t minded, and perhaps she didn’t, but Henry wished only to give her what she wanted. He would make that his life’s mission.

He rubbed his hands together, fighting off the chill. Tilly had preferred the chapel when the duke offered up his house for their wedding. He had proposed they could head to Gretna Green, but the duke insisted with the weather, it was best to have the ceremony at Haddington.

Considering Mr. Haskett was presumably in London, but not out of their lives completely, it was for the best.

The doors opened and Tilly entered, dressed in a beautiful burgundy gown. Her hair was decorated with a small crown of orange blossoms from the conservatory.

“Hello,” she mouthed to him.

He might have answered if it wasn’t for how tongue-tied he was seeing her walking toward him.

Henry would soon be married, and with a son of his own.

Everyone had been wrong.

His heart wasn’t ice after all.

Tilly had acted the part of a bride many times, but never did she imagine she would become a bride in earnest. Women like her did not marry. Never mind an earl.

Yet, Henry was waiting, his dark eyes pinned to her as if the world depended upon her next breath.

They had fallen in love that night, swept up in some invisible force between them. Romantic, sure. But she knew the stories. She made her way through this world acting out matters of the heart. But this was all surreal, almost too good to be happening. And maybe a little too quick.

Her heart pounded against her chest as she walked down the short aisle of the chapel. A soft snow fell outside, the softest hush of Christmas magic washing over their wedding.