Page 39 of Convincing Marianne (The Widows of Lavender Cottage #2)

He waved to the crowd out in front of them.

“Even if you say no, I love you. Even if everyone here learns that my love wasn’t enough.

” His voice caught. “I love you. Marianne.

" Henry pulled a ring from his pocket—not the elaborate engagement ring he might have chosen with careful planning, but his own signet ring, the one that had belonged to his father and represented everything he valued about family and legacy, "will you marry me?

Will you let me spend my life showing you that love doesn't require conditions or improvements or management? "

For a long moment, Marianne stared down at him in complete silence while the entire festival held its collective breath.

Then she smiled—the radiant, unguarded smile that had first made Henry realize what genuine happiness looked like.

"Yes," she said, her voice carrying clearly across the silent common. "Yes, Henry, I will marry you."

The crowd erupted in cheers so loud they probably heard them in Bath.

Henry slipped his signet ring onto Marianne's finger—it was too large, but it would serve until he could provide something more appropriate—and then swept her into his arms for a kiss that sealed their engagement in front of half of Somerset.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and laughing, Henry realized that somewhere in the crowd James was probably processing the complete destruction of his own romantic plans.

He felt a flicker of guilt for the dramatic way this had unfolded, but it was overwhelmed by the sheer joy of finally, finally telling Marianne how he felt without reservation or condition.

"Well," Marianne said as the cheers began to subside, "that was certainly not the announcement I was planning to make."

Henry grinned and leaned closer. “I do hope I haven’t ruined young James’ happiness.” He winced.

"Oh," Marianne said with a laugh, "I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I was going to announce something completely different.”

“What was that?” He stepped closer, bringing her hand to his chest.

“Just that I wanted to thank my partner in all this festival coordination for showing me what genuine collaboration looks like."

"Your partner?"

"You, you magnificent fool," Marianne said, reaching up to touch his face with obvious affection. "I was trying to work up the courage to tell the entire community that I was in love with my neighbor, but you rather stole my thunder with that dramatic proposal."

"You were going to..." Henry stared at her in amazement. "You were going to declare your feelings publicly?"

"I was going to take the biggest risk of my life," Marianne confirmed. "Though perhaps not quite as dramatically as you just did."

"What about James?" Henry asked, suddenly remembering the practical question of Marianne's other suitor.

"James and I had a conversation earlier this evening," Marianne said with a gentle smile. "We agreed that our partnership, while admirable, lacked a certain... essential element for marriage."

"Essential element?"

"Love, Henry. We agreed that practical compatibility without love was not enough foundation for a lifetime together."

Henry felt relief flood through him so completely that he had to tighten his hold on Marianne to keep from staggering.

"So you were never going to accept his proposal?"

"I was never going to accept his proposal," Marianne confirmed. "Though I confess I hadn't quite worked out how to tell him that until this afternoon's events clarified a few things about what I actually want from marriage."

"And what do you want from marriage?"

"I want what you just offered me," Marianne said simply. "Someone who loves me enough to risk everything rather than trying to change me into someone safer to love."

Henry kissed her again, unable to resist, while the crowd around them laughed and cheered their approval.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Marianne called out when they finally separated, "I believe we have additional cause for celebration tonight!"

More cheers, more laughter, and Henry realized that their dramatic engagement had somehow become part of the festival's official conclusion.

"So," Marianne continued, still in Henry's arms, "we have an orphanage to build, an engagement to celebrate, and apparently a wedding to plan. I'd say this festival has been a complete success!"

The crowd's response was so enthusiastic that Henry was fairly certain Somerset would be talking about this evening for decades to come.

"Any regrets about the dramatic approach?" Marianne asked quietly as people began to surge forward with congratulations.

"None whatsoever," Henry replied firmly. "Though I should probably apologize to James for the rather public nature of... well, everything."

"James will be fine," Marianne assured him. "He's already expressing relief that he won't have to manage my 'unconventional tendencies' after all."

"Your unconventional tendencies are exactly what I fell in love with," Henry said.

"Good," Marianne replied with the sort of mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of interesting challenges, "because they're not going anywhere."

"I wouldn't want them to," Henry said, and meant it completely.

As the Somerset community surrounded them with congratulations, good wishes, and considerable curiosity about wedding plans, Henry realized that his carefully controlled life was about to become delightfully, chaotically, perfectly complicated.

And he had never been happier about anything in his entire life.

The celebration was just beginning to settle into comfortable conversation when a commotion at the edge of the crowd drew everyone's attention.

A young woman on horseback appeared through the darkness, clearly having ridden hard—her traveling dress was dusty, her hair disheveled, and her expression held the urgency of someone who had traveled far with important news.

"Excuse me," she called out breathlessly, dismounting with obvious exhaustion. "I'm looking for Lady Marianne Linfield. I must speak with her immediately about Lord Pembroke."

The crowd parted curiously as the stranger approached, and Marianne stepped forward with Henry still protectively at her side.

"I'm Lady Marianne," she said gently. "Though I'm afraid you may be too late if you've come about Lord Pembroke's proposal. I've just accepted another gentleman entirely."

The young woman looked around at the celebrating crowd, taking in the obvious romantic atmosphere and the way Henry and Marianne stood together, and her face showed a mixture of confusion and relief.

"Oh," she said, swaying slightly from exhaustion. "Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I might be too late to warn you."

"Warn me?" Marianne asked with concern.

"I'm Miss Catherine Ellcott," the woman said, steadying herself with obvious effort.

"Lord Pembroke was... that is, we were once engaged.

I heard through mutual acquaintances that he was planning to propose publicly tonight, and I rode from Yorkshire to warn you about his.

.. patterns... regarding women and their fortunes. "

A murmur ran through the crowd, and Marianne felt Henry tense beside her. But before she could respond, James himself stepped forward from where he'd been standing with his sister Charlotte, his face pale in the lantern light.

"Catherine," he said quietly, his voice carrying a mixture of shock and something that might have been shame. "You came all this way to... to warn someone away from me."

Catherine lifted her chin with dignity despite her obvious exhaustion. "I couldn't let another woman go through what I experienced. Learning that someone's interest in you ends the moment they discover your inheritance is smaller than expected is... quite educational about their character."

The crowd had gone completely silent, riveted by this unexpected drama. James stood frozen for a moment, clearly struggling with having his past behavior exposed so publicly.

"You're right," he said finally, his voice carrying across the quiet common. "You're absolutely right, and I am deeply ashamed that my actions drove you to make such a journey."

He took a step closer to Catherine, his expression earnest. "Catherine, what I did to you was inexcusable. I was mercenary, calculating, and completely blind to what I was losing when I chose financial considerations over genuine feeling."

"Yes, you were," Catherine replied with quiet dignity.

"But Lady Marianne showed me something these past weeks," James continued, glancing toward Marianne with obvious gratitude.

"She showed me what authentic partnership looks like, what it means to care about someone's happiness more than your own advantage.

And watching her work for the foundling charity, seeing her put principle before profit in every decision. .."

He paused, looking directly at Catherine. "It made me realize that the man who ended our engagement was a fool who didn't deserve you then and probably doesn't deserve your forgiveness now."

Catherine studied his face with the careful attention of someone who had learned not to trust easily. "What are you saying, James?"

"I'm saying that losing you taught me what I actually valued, but I was too proud to admit my mistake until I saw Lady Marianne choose love over security tonight.

" James's voice grew stronger. "I'm saying that if you could ever find it in your heart to give me another chance—not the man I was, but the man I'm trying to become—I would spend the rest of my life proving that some people can learn from their worst mistakes. "

The crowd held its collective breath as Catherine considered this public apology and plea. Finally, she spoke with careful precision.

"That would depend entirely on whether you've truly changed, or whether you're simply saying what you think I want to hear."

"How could I prove the difference?" James asked quietly.

Catherine looked around at the festival celebrating the foundling charity, at the community that had come together for vulnerable children, at Marianne and Henry whose love had just triumphed over convention.

"You could start," she said slowly, "by explaining why you believe this charity work changed you. Not because you think it's what I want to hear, but because you understand why it matters."

James took a deep breath. "Because for the first time in my adult life, I was working toward something that had nothing to do with my own advantage.

These children will never be able to repay what we're building for them.

They can't advance my social position or increase my wealth.

They can only... benefit from our efforts because it's the right thing to do. "

His voice grew more confident as he continued.

"And watching Lady Marianne pour her heart into that work, seeing how she valued every child's potential over any consideration of what she might gain.

.. it made me realize that the way I'd treated you—calculating your worth based on financial benefit—was not just wrong, but completely contrary to everything that actually matters in life. "

Catherine's expression softened slightly. "And you believe this realization is permanent?"

"I believe," James said with quiet intensity, "that once you've seen what real love and authentic partnership look like, it becomes impossible to settle for anything calculating or false.

What I felt for you was real, Catherine.

My mistake was letting practical considerations override those feelings instead of trusting that genuine love was worth more than any financial advantage. "

The crowd watched this intensely personal conversation with the sort of fascination usually reserved for theatrical performances.

But there was nothing performative about the emotions on both faces—Catherine's careful hope warring with hard-learned caution, James's obvious vulnerability as he waited for judgment on his character.

"I can't promise to trust you immediately," Catherine said finally. "The wound you inflicted goes deeper than financial disappointment."

"I understand," James replied. "But if you're willing to let me try to earn back what I threw away, I would be grateful for the chance."

Catherine looked at him for a long moment, then at the celebrating community around them, then back at his anxious face.

"Perhaps," she said carefully, "we could begin with a conversation. A real conversation, about what we both learned from... our previous difficulties."

"I would like that very much," James said with obvious relief.

Lady Joanna, ever practical, stepped forward with her characteristic efficiency.

"Miss Ellcott, you must be exhausted from your journey.

Perhaps you'd allow me to offer hospitality for the evening?

And Lord Pembroke, I believe there's an inn in the village where you could stay while you and Miss Ellcott.

.. reacquaint yourselves with honest conversation. "

As arrangements were made for the unexpected guests, Marianne found herself marveling at how their festival had become a celebration of multiple forms of love finding their way through obstacles and misunderstandings.

"Well," Henry said quietly as they watched James carefully help Catherine remount her horse for the short ride to Lady Joanna's house, "I confess I didn't expect our engagement announcement to include a secondary romantic reconciliation."

"Neither did I," Marianne replied with a smile. "Though I find it rather fitting. If our love story has taught me anything, it's that the best relationships require people to grow into better versions of themselves."

"And sometimes," Henry added, watching James's obvious care for Catherine's exhaustion, "it takes losing something precious to understand its true value."

As the festival crowd began to disperse, still buzzing with excitement about the evening's multiple romantic developments, Marianne reflected that this was exactly how she'd hoped their charitable celebration would conclude: not just with funds raised for vulnerable children, but with a community that had witnessed love triumphing over convention, growth overcoming past mistakes, and forgiveness creating new possibilities for happiness.

"No regrets about sharing your romantic spotlight?" Henry asked as they prepared to return to Lavender Cottage.

"None whatsoever," Marianne said firmly. "Love should be celebrated whenever and wherever it appears. Even if it arrives dusty and exhausted from Yorkshire."