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Emma looked up at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Apologize? Whatever for, George?”

He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. The moonlight cast a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sincerity in his eyes. “For the scandal, for the haste of our engagement... for everything that has caused you distress. For my initial suspicions of you. For my rudeness and interference.” He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “The list is quite a long one, I am afraid.”

“Your suspicions were not without grounds after all,” Emma admitted.

“And your actions were not without good reason either,” he said, taking her hands in his. “I owe you an apology, Emma. And I hope you will, in time, find it in your generous heart to forgive my many faults.”

Emma gazed up at him, scarcely believing that this contrite and humble man before her was the same George she had practically been at war with throughout the house party. His transformation filled her with a tender warmth.

“Why, you are making the lovely evening so grave, George,” Emma dismissed playfully, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. When she saw the gravity in his expression, her light spirits faltered.

“A few years ago, I was involved in a carefully orchestrated scandal,” George suddenly said, his voice heavy with the weight of the confession. “The honorable thing would have been to offer for that lady. But I refused to pay a price in a wager I held no part in. I told myself that she would have to deal with the consequences of her own dishonesty, thus earning my less-than-respectable reputation in society,” he added, his tone tinged with regret.

“I do not care about those rumors, George,” Emma said, her voice firm and unwavering. She wondered why he was suddenly making a journey to the past. Was he perhaps trying to elevate himself in her regard? It was unlike him. And besides, she had never cared about his reputation in society. She never cared for those rumors, even if they held a shred of truth.

“Oh, but those rumors are true, Emma,” he said ruefully. “She found me alone and forced herself into my arms. We were discovered and her parents asked me to offer for her. I refused to do what was deemed honorable to punish her.” A shadow passed over his features. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have married her. The rumors had been quite difficult to bear.”

“They were a lie.”

“She never married, and I felt somewhat responsible at some point.”

Emma touched his arm. “This happened through no fault of yours,” she reassured him.

“Society does not care about the truth. The truth is never enough to ease the expectations and lessen the judgment,” he responded, his voice filled with a bitter resignation.

“If you had succumbed to those lies and expectations, George, we would not be here right now, would we?” Emma did not care if she sounded selfish at that moment. Because she felt it. She wanted to be. For this man, she did not mind being selfish.

“We wouldn’t,” he agreed with a languid smile. But Emma couldn’t shake off the sudden uncertainty she picked up about him right now.

Was he perhaps regretting his decision to marry her? Was that the true reason for his apology and unsolicited explanation of the past?

She suddenly felt quite apprehensive as she asked, “Are you unsure of your decision to marry me, George?”

“Oh no, do not misunderstand me, Emma. I am quite certain I wish to marry you,” he quickly corrected, his expression earnest. “After all, this is inevitable. Since we were seen together,” he added, his voice carrying a hint of something that sounded almost like resignation.

Emma paused, her heart squeezing at his words. The way he phrased it—inevitable—made it sound as though their marriage was more of a necessity rather than a choice freely made out of love. She searched his face, looking for signs of genuine affection, needing to know his true sentiments.

Emma had been thrilled at the prospect of marriage to George, her heart alight with the hope of a union founded on affection rather than mere obligation. Yet, as the shadows lengthened across the garden where they strolled, she found herself yearning for a deeper connection, one that transcended duty.

“Well, in this instance, I must concede that your earlier misgivings about my intentions, and your vigilant care for Alexander, were perhaps not entirely misplaced,” she said, her voice a playful murmur as she sought to infuse a touch of mirth into the weighty conversation.

A sudden, harsh croak shattered the quiet, causing Emma to flinch. She turned towards the sound, her eyes wide with surprise. “Are you afraid of frogs?” George’s laughter rippled through the air, a sound both warm and teasing.

“That was far too robust for a mere frog. Surely, it was a toad, George,” she retorted, her cheeks coloring slightly as she defended her reaction.

“Same family,” he replied with an insouciant shrug, his eyes gleaming with amusement in the moonlight. This was the man from the house party, the one she hoped would always be there. “And yet, it still made you jump.”

Emma shot him a mock stern look, her lips twitching as she fought back a smile. Eventually, she relented, joining him in laughter.

His expression brightened, an idea clearly taking root. “You know, I have an estate in Dorset. A castle by the sea, with a pond on the grounds that is quite populated with both frogs and toads. I am quite certain you would find it enchanting.”

“The pond filled with frogs and toads?” she echoed, laughter bubbling up again. “Do you truly know what enchantment is?”

“I believe I do.” He grinned. "The seaside, Emma. I meant the seaside," he clarified, his fingers tenderly squeezing her hand. In that gentle grasp, she felt a flicker of hope that perhaps his heart might one day echo the silent vows of hers.

"A castle by the seaside sounds magical, George," Emma responded, her mind filled with a dreamlike wonder.

"We shall go there after the wedding," he promised. "And perhaps I can show you how to fish for frogs," he added, a playful edge in his voice.