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“ Y ou’re being suspiciously cheerful this morning,” Evelyn said, eyeing Robert over the rim of her teacup. “What are you planning?”

Robert leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth curling in that maddeningly inscrutable smile. “You wound me, Madam. Can a husband not simply be pleased to spend the morning with his wife?”

“Well, perhaps. But not without an ulterior motive.” She set her cup down and narrowed her eyes at him. “You’ve been humming. That never bodes well.”

“I do not hum,” he protested though the smile grew wider. “And if I did, it would be in a very masculine, dignified way.”

“Of course,” she said dryly. “Is the humming related to this mysterious outing you mentioned before breakfast?”

He stood then, offering his hand to her. “Come. We’re going riding.”

“Riding?” She took his hand and allowed herself to be helped up. “Where?”

“To the village.”

“Robert—”

“It’s a surprise,” he cut in, eyes gleaming with something secret and warm. “And before you ask, no, I won’t tell you what it is.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am. Your impossible husband.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite smother her grin. “Very well. But if this ends in livestock or me having to make some sort of speech to the townsfolk, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You wound me again,” he said with mock offense, offering his arm as they left the breakfast room. “I would never inflict either upon you. Though you would make quite the rousing village orator.”

“You are truly insufferable.”

“And yet, you married me.”

She gave him a sidelong look as they made their way to the stables. “I’m starting to think I had a moment of madness.”

He helped her mount her mare then swung up onto his horse with an ease that made her stomach flutter. He still looked the part of a brooding figure from a half-forgotten dream, but he smiled more now. His eyes were lighter. The darkness that had once cloaked him seemed, at last, to be receding.

They rode out together, side by side, along the winding country lane. The sun was warm on her back, and the breeze tugged playfully at the ribbons of her hat. She glanced sideways at him as they neared the village.

“Will I like this surprise?”

“I hope so,” he said softly, his gaze steady on the road ahead. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”

As they approached the edge of the village, Evelyn’s brow furrowed. Something was… different.

“Robert,” she said cautiously, slowing her mare. “Why are there garlands hanging from the trees?”

He said nothing at first, only urged his horse forward, and so she followed. But with every yard they advanced, more color appeared. There were more ribbons fluttering from windows, more floral wreaths draped over fence posts, and more strings of painted bunting stretched across the narrow streets.

Music drifted toward them, the sounds lively, familiar, and sweet. Her heart started to beat faster.

“What in the world…” she murmured.

They rounded the final bend, and the village square came into view. Evelyn gasped.

The entire square had been transformed. Tables were lined with food and flowers.

Lanterns were strung overhead, swaying gently in the breeze.

Children were laughing as they darted between booths.

Musicians were playing a cheerful tune in the corner while townsfolk mingled, smiled, and clapped in rhythm.

She stared at it all, wide-eyed. “Robert… what is this?”

He dismounted with a quiet smile then stepped over and offered his hand to help her down. “It’s for you.”

She blinked. “For me?”

“To celebrate everything you’ve done. The school, the clinic, the workers’ homes… every single improvement. The villagers insisted on throwing a celebration in your honor. I may have helped them organize it. Just a little.”

She was speechless. Her eyes filled with disbelief and wonder as the townspeople began to turn toward her, clapping and cheering. A few of the children ran up and hugged her skirts, calling out, “Lady Evelyn! Lady Evelyn!”

The fact that they were not addressing her in the correct manner a duchess was to be addressed in was the last thing on her mind at that moment.

Still stunned, she turned toward Robert. “You… you did this?”

He shrugged lightly though his eyes were warm. “I only followed their lead. They’re proud of you. As am I.”

Before she could speak, she caught sight of familiar figures emerging from the crowd.

Matilda waved eagerly, already wiping away a tear.

Behind her were Hazel and Cordelia, all smiles and teary eyes, followed closely by Mason, who gave her a mock bow and exclaimed, “Told you he was up to something!”

The joy hit her like sunlight through stained glass. Her throat tightened.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

“Say nothing,” Robert murmured near her ear. “Just enjoy it. You’ve earned every moment.”

Before she could say anything to that, two young girls, no more than eight or nine, giggled as they grabbed Evelyn’s hands, tugging her forward.

“Come, My Lady!” one of them cried. “You must dance with us!”

Evelyn laughed, breathless, glancing back at Robert who merely gave her an innocent shrug and leaned against the nearest post like a man utterly uninvolved in the whole thing.

She allowed herself to be swept forward with her skirts gathered delicately in her hands as the girls led her to the circle of dancers forming near the square’s center. The fiddlers struck up a brisk tune, something jolly and quick-footed, and soon others were spinning and stepping into place.

To her delight, Hazel and Cordelia were already there, clasping hands and twirling with scandalous joy.

Matilda followed shortly after, clumsy at first until Hazel grabbed her and pulled her into the steps with exaggerated flair.

Matilda laughed. It was a true, unguarded laugh Evelyn hadn’t heard from her in years.

Evelyn’s heart ached in the best possible way.

The girls released her hands, and she twirled once by herself before a familiar hand reached out and caught hers. It was Mason, grinning like a fox.

“May I, my dear duchess?” he asked with exaggerated courtliness.

“You may,” Evelyn replied with equal drama, dipping into a curtsy before they fell into step with the music.

They spun and laughed, tripping once or twice, but the crowd clapped and whooped with every near stumble. When the song ended, Mason bowed dramatically and stepped away, only for another pair of arms to catch her waist from behind.

“You’re rather popular today,” Robert murmured close to her ear.

“You did this,” she said, trying to sound scolding, but her voice was far too full of joy.

“Guilty,” he said as he turned her toward him, taking her hands with a gentleness that felt somehow reverent amid the boisterous cheer.

The musicians struck up another song, a little slower this time, and he guided her into a waltz.

Around them, the villagers danced and cheered, but in that moment, Evelyn saw only him: her husband, her beloved, the man who had once believed he was incapable of love and now looked at her as though she were his entire world.

“You’ve gone soft,” she teased quietly.

“Only for you,” he replied.

Evelyn rested her head lightly against Robert’s shoulder as they moved through the dance, the music winding around them like a ribbon. His hand was firm at her waist, guiding her with quiet assurance, yet there was a tenderness in his grip that hadn’t always been there.

She smiled against his coat, marveling at how far they had come, from strangers in a calculated arrangement to this: two hearts in perfect rhythm, moving as though they’d always belonged to one another.

Around them, the village square shimmered with life.

Children darted past with ribbons trailing behind them, elderly couples clapped along to the beat, and the scent of sweet pastries mingled with the warm air.

Lanterns were being hung now from posts and over stalls, and Evelyn could see fresh garlands of flowers adorning nearly every door and railing.

It was more beautiful than anything she had imagined, and all of it was for her.

She pulled back slightly to look at Robert, studying the faint smile at the corners of his mouth, the way the sun caught the strands of his hair, a little tousled from the ride. Her heart ached in the most delightful way.

“You really did all this?” she asked softly.

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I may have spoken to a few villagers…” She was on the verge of tears, and he could see it.

So, he continued, “Before you ask why again, it is because you saved the soul of this place, Evelyn. You noticed the details others didn’t, and you gave it back to them.

And also… I have a selfish reason for this…

I love seeing you like this, so happy and free, so… alive.”

Her breath caught in her throat. There was a time she might have doubted his words, might have guarded her heart. But not now. Not after everything.

Before she could respond, Cordelia and Hazel twirled past, laughing loudly, with Matilda trying to keep up behind them. Evelyn laughed as well, breaking away from Robert to grab her sister’s hand.

“Come on, Tilly,” she said, pulling her into the center. “You’re not getting out of the next one.”

Matilda groaned dramatically but followed. “I shall collapse in public, and it will be your fault.”

“Oh, the scandal,” Hazel said, grinning as she took the other side.

The music changed to something livelier, and soon all of them were spinning in a larger circle: Hazel, Cordelia, Matilda, Evelyn, and several village girls who joined in without hesitation.

The square pulsed with warmth and movement, and Evelyn found herself breathless again but not from exertion.

It was joy. Full and blinding and all-consuming.

She caught Robert’s gaze across the crowd. He was watching her with a quiet smile on his face that was far too intimate for a public setting. She smiled back.

This was no longer the life she had accepted with resignation. It was the life she had chosen. And, she realized, as she twirled with her friends and sister under the bunting and the open sky… it was the life she had always longed for.

The End?