The moment the drawing room door shut behind you both, the hush of the hallway wrapped around you like a secret.

You walked ahead—barely a pace or two—but even that small distance felt heavy with meaning. You could feel his eyes on your back, as if the very air between you bore the weight of words unsaid.

When you paused near the window, he did not hesitate. His voice, though low, reached you easily.

“I meant no discourtesy,” he said. “But I could not endure to hear you spoken of like… like a prize upon some gentleman’s list.”

You turned slightly, your fingers brushing the curtain’s edge. “Then you object to the entire of society, Colonel.”

“Not society. Only the notion that your heart might be weighed alongside the worth of an estate.”

Your breath hitched. You had grown used to his restraint—his gentleness-but now there was something else beneath the surface. A tension he no longer bothered to conceal.

“And what would you weigh it against, then?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

His answer was immediate. “My own.”

You faced him fully now, your heart beating louder than the ticking of the longcase clock. You saw it then—plain and unhidden—the storm in his eyes, the way his shoulders held back a thousand restless impulses.

“If you are uncertain,” he said, stepping close enough that the warmth of him reached you, “say so. But do not pretend I’ve kissed you only for fondness’ sake. You must know I mean to marry you.”

Your lips parted—perhaps to answer, perhaps not.

But before a single word could fall—

He kissed you.

With all the fire his silence had withheld, all the promise unspoken in every look and lingering touch. It was not the kiss of courtship.

It was the kiss of a man who had made up his mind.

And somewhere beyond the door, the voices of your family called your name—

—But you did not answer.