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T he grand ballroom of Ashworth Manor had never been so radiant.

Golden candlelight flickered from the crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors.

Garlands of white roses and ivy draped along the banisters, their delicate fragrance filling the air.

Laughter and music swirled through the room, the sounds of a joyous waltz played by the finest musicians in London.

And at the center of it all, Eleanor stood—safe, victorious, and loved. She had spent so many years hiding. Running from the past, from the whispers of scandal, from the fear that she would never truly be free.

But now?

Now, she stood beside the man she loved, her hand resting in his, her heart unburdened.

Lord Sebastian Redgrave was gone, exiled and disgraced, his name forever tarnished. The man who had once tried to break her now held no power over her. And tonight, all of London had gathered to celebrate her triumph—and her future.

Because tonight was her engagement ball.

She glanced up at Graham, her fiancé, her love, her warrior. He looked devastatingly handsome in his black tailcoat, the silver embroidery catching the light, his dark eyes filled with the same unwavering devotion that had saved her time and time again.

She squeezed his hand. “You look rather pleased with yourself, Your Grace.”

Graham chuckled, brushing his thumb over her gloved knuckles. “And why shouldn’t I be, Lady Eleanor? I have won the greatest prize in all of England.”

She laughed softly. “You make it sound as though I were a trophy.”

His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “No,” he murmured. “You are the prize I spent five years searching for. And now that I have you, I will never let you go.”

A shiver danced down her spine, warmth pooling in her chest.

Graham had always been dangerous—not just in battle, not just in a fight. But because he knew her heart better than anyone ever had. And she had spent too many years fighting what was inevitable.

She loved him. And tonight, she would finally let herself revel in it.

The orchestra swelled, and a new waltz began. Graham turned to her, extending his hand. “Shall we dance, my love?”

Eleanor smiled, placing her fingers in his. “With pleasure.”

He swept her onto the floor, and the moment their bodies met in the waltz’s familiar rhythm, everything else faded away.

All the pain. All the fear. All the years of longing.

None of it mattered anymore. Because she was finally home, safe in Graham’s arms, surrounded by the people who loved her, with a future she had once believed impossible now shining brightly before her.

The music swirled, the world spun, and Eleanor laughed as Graham pulled her closer. Her past no longer held her captive. Her future had never looked more beautiful.

As the waltz carried them across the ballroom floor, Eleanor knew one thing for certain. She had won.