A/N: To all the readers, I extend a heartfelt apology for the lateness of this chapter. I can only hope it makes up for at least some of the wait.

Chapter 10: Conclusion

It was many minutes before Teresa finally stopped running. Only when her lungs felt as though they were on fire in her chest did she slow, and fall against a convenient tree. She stood with her back to the trunk, puffing and panting for a time, until she got her breath back enough to take note of her surroundings.

In her despair, she had travelled far from the house; in fact, off her father's land completely, and found herself in a small glade, well-concealed amongst the close-growing trees. The sun was filtering through a few small gaps in the leaves, casting dancing light here and there over the grass and rocks, of which she selected the largest and flattest to make her seat. It was a peaceful kind of place, so it was a shame that she should have happened across it in such a terrible state.

The exercise had helped to take the edge off her anger, but the feeling of betrayal was still fresh. In all her twenty-two years, her life had included only two constants: her friendship with Jane, and a deep respect and affection for her father. Now, in the space of mere days, her best friend was on the verge of becoming her lover and she'd discovered that her father had been playing them both like marionettes for weeks.

As a result of her mother's early death, she and her father had always been close while she'd been growing up, and while other fathers were pushing their daughters into society, willing to marry them off to the first available suitor, hers had always encouraged her to wait for the right man. There had never been any rush for her to wed, and for that she had always been grateful. She never would have imagined him to betray her like this, and for him to allow a complete stranger to toy with her emotions in this scandalous manner was an even greater crime.

There were so many ways the scheme could have gone awry. Why, it had taken no less than the threat of a proposal of marriage to induce Jane to come to her side. What if that had still not been enough? How far had they been prepared to go? Would the Lord have made her an offer, even go so far as to marry her, before they were forced to accept their failure? And where would that have left her? Trapped in a loveless marriage, with no chance of escape, with her heart's true desire forever out of reach.

Oh, what would Jane say when he too became aware of the deception? He hated to be wrong and even more, to be tricked. He had a pride bordering on arrogance of his own abilities, and to be beaten at his own game would be the most shameful thing that could ever happen to him. How far would he go to prove his mental superiority? Would he pretend it all had never happened? Perhaps he would even rescind his claim on her, and their love would both begin and end with that passionate interlude in the stable, becoming nothing but a sweet memory.

With a sigh, she removed her shoes and pushed her toes into the soft grass. This time yesterday, she had been in the blissful oblivion of Jane's kisses, having her first experience of true love and sensual desire, of being wanted so desperately that he had literally needed to force himself to step away from her. Had he not stopped it, she felt sure she would have given him her innocence and her respectability, or indeed anything he asked, just for the continued pleasure of his touch.

"Miss Lisbon?"

A voice calling her name pulled her sharply out of her memories of that glorious afternoon, and back to the present. Her first thought was that the speaker was Jane, as if her thoughts of him had telepathically called him to her side, but the voice was too deep and the footsteps heavier than his. She just had time to be slightly embarrassed at her silly girlish notion before Mr O'Laughlin appeared out of the undergrowth.

"How do you do, Mr O'Laughlin?" she said politely but coolly, hopefully discouraging him from wanting to stop and chat, for all she wanted was to be alone.

"Very well indeed, my lady," he said. "But I must confess I did not expect you to be here."

"Then that makes two of us," she said. "I did not know that this place existed until a few minutes ago."

The gentleman removed his hat and settled himself on the grass opposite her. "I came across it many years ago, while out walking one day. I have been coming here ever since for some peace, and reflection."

Reading between the lines of that statement, Teresa supposed this had been a haven for Mr O'Laughlin whenever tensions had arisen with his father at home. From the stories that had been passed around town, she could certainly understand his need for escape.

"You look as if you have something on your mind, Miss Lisbon," he said, presently. "Would it soothe you to share your troubles with me?"

"You are most kind," she said. "But it is of no great importance, and I should not wish to bother you with it."

"On the contrary, something that manages to distress the unflappable Miss Lisbon enough to have her flee this far away from home without an escort, must be of great importance indeed. And if I may be so bold as to say so," he added with a smile. "I am rather good at keeping secrets, so my discretion is assured."

This managed to elicit a smile from her. Mr O'Laughlin would be quite justified to want nothing to do with her ever again after the picnic, as it had been she who had failed to pull Jane into line before he spilled his most closely guarded secret. But she was very pleased to see that he seemed to have put the unpleasantness behind him, and would even venture to say that he looked happier today than she could ever remember seeing him before leaving his father's home. Once again, it seemed Jane's borderline madness had worked to his advantage. He always had been good at wriggling out of trouble.

"I have had a disagreement with my father," she said slowly. "He has done me a great wrong, and I am most unhappy with him." The gentleman was too polite to press for further details on the subject, but his obvious curiosity, as well as her own need to tell somebody of her woes, made her carry on regardless.

"He wishes me to marry," she said. "And instead of allowing me to choose a suitor for myself, has orchestrated things so as to practically choose one for me, even though he promised faithfully that he would never do such a thing."

"Indeed," said Mr O'Laughlin. "And do you disapprove of the chosen gentleman?"

An image of Jane standing beside her on their wedding day appeared in her mind. She imagined him smiling only for her, and his eyes gazing at no other, and felt her heart quicken.

"Not exactly," she said. This was stretching the truth a hundredfold, for she now could not think of any man she could ever love even half as well as him.

"Do you imagine that you could find happiness with the suitor?"

Of that, there could be no doubt. As long as those intoxicating kisses kept coming, and as often as possible, she could want for nothing else.

"I do," she admitted.

"Then I would venture to say that Lord Virgil has chosen well. You and Mr Jane shall make a fine pair," he said, slyly.

Teresa, who had been again reliving the stolen moment in the stable, was again brought back to earth with an unpleasant bump. "Excuse me?" she said, using a superhuman effort to retain her ladylike persona. "I do not recall making any mention of Mr Jane."

"Forgive me my lady, for my presumption," he said, with a hint of amusement. "But am I incorrect?"

She could tell just by looking at him that there was no point trying to deny it, so she let out a small sigh of resignation. "How did you know?"

"There has never been any doubt in my mind that you and he were destined for one another. And you will be hard-pressed to find anyone in town who would disagree." He smiled at her again, more gently now, as she cast her eyes down in embarrassment. "It is a joyful thing," he said. "You will be the happiest woman in the country, and Mr Jane will be by far the happiest man. Whatever your father has done to vex you must be worth that."

She had to admit she had not yet considered the incident in this light. Had her father and Mashburn not forced Jane's hand, they would never have ended up where they were now. And essentially, what they had done was almost the same as what she had attempted with Miss Van Pelt. In fact, the only difference was that, unlike her, they had been successful.

She and Mr. O'Laughlin talked a few minutes more, and in the course of that conversation, she made the surprising discovery that he was now engaged to marry the notorious Mrs. Flynn. With his proclivities and his fiancée's somewhat questionable actions, they seemed a well-matched pair. So well matched in fact, that she couldn't help thinking that the arrangement bore the stamp of a self-professed matchmaker she knew.

To think that he had gone to such trouble to fix the rift he had caused made her love him, if it were possible, still more.

Mr. O'Laughlin insisted on escorting her home, and when she arrived, she was very pleased to find that her father and stepmother had already gone to bed, for she was in no mood to be questioned about where she had been.

She retreated to her own bedroom, and sat by the window, gazing out upon the starry sky. So many times she had sat in this very spot, listening out for the plink of stones hitting the glass, and Jane's earnest whisper, urging her to come join him in whatever mischief he had planned.

She had always felt a thrill of excitement when the first stone hit, which only increased, as she descended the vine and landed with a light thud at his side. And then, away they would go, into the night, and sometimes not return until sunrise. It had seemed so normal to her as she was growing up, as natural as breathing to want to spend every waking moment with him. She'd always been happy when she was with him, and sorry when they parted. Perhaps she had loved him even then, but had been simply too young and inexperienced in the ways of love to recognize her feelings for what they were.

In hindsight, she thought that she should have seen it earlier. When he was away at school in London she used to scour his letters for mentions of other girls, and rejoice when she found none. On the day he returned, she greeted him in a brand new gown, commissioned by her from her personal savings just for the occasion, and when he'd descended from the carriage, her joy in seeing him had been so great that she could not stop smiling all day.

With both their fathers present, the most he had been able to do was clasp her hand in greeting, but still it made her heart lighter to have him back with her again.

She smiled to herself now, as she rose from the windowsill and slipped into her bed. That girl was a far cry from what she was today. She was wiser now. She was no longer a child. But was she truly ready to be a wife? As she contemplated this monumental question, she found herself fingering the necklace that she had worn faithfully every day since her mother's death. A simple crucifix strung on a golden chain, the piece of jewellery was one of the few relics of her mother that she had. Not much else had survived. Her father had gotten rid of it all a few weeks after she had died; the reminders were too painful.

While usually not one to wallow in her grief, or fret over things beyond her power to change, Teresa found herself wishing her mother could be here now to guide her through this. Surely she would have had some sage advice or some comforting words to help her feel better about it all. She would have approved of her choice, Teresa decided, smiling to herself. Her mother had always liked Jane, and indeed treated him as though he were her own. Having little contact with his own mother kept him ever grateful for her efforts, and he had loved her too.

One way or another, Jane had always been part of the family.

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"LaRoche, have I had any telegrams this morning?" Jane asked his manservant, as he rose from the breakfast table.

"No, sir," said the man, as he bent to take away the plate and cutlery. "Are you expecting one?"

He ignored this. "I shall be out on the grounds," he said. "If there are any letters or messages of any kind, come to me directly."

"Very good, sir."

A day had passed since the Stable Incident, and so far, not one word had reached him from Teresa. He'd solemnly promised to give her time, but by God, how much time did the woman need? Why was she not here already throwing herself into his waiting arms? Perhaps this was her way of toying with him, thinking to test his love by keeping him in suspense. If that was indeed her plan, she was succeeding; the tension was driving him mad.

It was a warm spring morning, and he ambled about his estate at his leisure, stopping every now and then to confer with the gardeners. Every few minutes he found himself glancing back at the house to see if Mr. LaRoche, or better yet, Teresa, might be approaching, but each time was disappointed.

As he entered the stable, Citroen nickered happily at the sight of him as she munched away on the carrots the stableboy had brought her. Jane reached over the stable door to pet her mane, and the horse nuzzled his hand affectionately.

"All it takes is a handful of carrots to make you happy," he said, ruefully. "Why can't all women be as easy to please?"

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Teresa had only just finished dressing when Kristina tapped on her door the next morning.

"You have a visitor Miss Lisbon," she said. "Miss Van Pelt awaits you in the drawing room."

When she entered the room Grace leapt up from her seat on the settee and rushed over to her, eyes shining with excitement.

"He wants to marry me!" she exclaimed, brandishing a sheet of paper covered in writing at Teresa.

"I'm sorry dear, I'm not quite following you," she replied, slightly taken aback by this stunning news. "Of whom do you speak?"

"Why, of Mr. Rigsby," said Grace, timidly. "He wrote to me this morning to beg for my hand." She held out the letter again, gesturing that Teresa should read it. "He says he loved me from the moment we were introduced at Mrs. Dean's dinner party, but he thought I would never look at him for he is not as rich or handsome as Mr. Jane. Though I suppose I need not point that out to you, of course," she added slyly, and Teresa flushed.

"No, indeed."

"But I hope you will forgive me if I should think of him as the most agreeable man of my acquaintance, Teresa, despite his fortune being inferior to Mr. Jane's, and if I should confess to being very much in love with him too."

Teresa let out a humourless chuckle. Only someone as sweet-tempered as Grace could ever feel she had disappointed her just by falling in love. A fine dance she had lead her on these few weeks, if anything it should be herself begging forgiveness. But it was a credit to Grace's good nature and beauty that she had managed to find herself a good husband without requiring any of Teresa's help.

"Grace, I have every confidence that you will be happier in this match, than in any one I could have made on your behalf," she said. "And as your friend, your happiness is all I could wish for."

A brilliant smile crossed Miss Van Pelt's face at these words and she grasped both of Teresa's hands.

"Oh thank you, Teresa. It means a great deal to me that you understand, for it would have given me such pain to do something that would cause you displeasure."

"Well, you needn't worry about that. But I must ask, in the event that I did disapprove, would you not have married him anyway?"

Grace giggled. "Of course," she said.

"Good girl," she said, approvingly. "You should never let my opinion keep you from doing as you wish. Why, if I had my way, you would be wed to Mr. Wainwright now, and that is a fate I would wish on nobody."

"Do not judge him too harshly, Teresa," said Grace, though she smirked. "He at least had the good taste to fall in love with you."

Teresa refrained from making a face. "Nevertheless, an error in judgment on my part. Now come, share with me this letter of yours."

Kristina was summoned to bring in tea as Grace read Mr. Rigsby's letter aloud, sighing dreamily at the more tender passages, and with a faint tinge of scarlet to her cheek that made her look lovelier than Teresa had ever seen her. Such happiness agreed with her; Mr Rigsby was a lucky man.

"Oh!" Grace exclaimed, after they had thoroughly deconstructed the letter in its entirety. "I am so swept up in my own bliss that I think nothing of yours, Teresa. Tell me, do we have another engagement to celebrate? Has Mr. Jane made you an offer?"

Teresa examined the rim of her teacup, playing for time.

"He has not made me an explicit offer, strictly speaking," she said, in a small voice.

The letter fell from Grace's hand and fluttered to the floor. "Why ever not?" she asked. "You love him, and he clearly loves you. Why on Earth should he hesitate?"

"We have discussed the matter," Teresa clarified, feeling the need to defend him, for it was not his fault they were not engaged. She suspected he would have proposed right then and there had she not told him to leave when she had. "There is much to consider. He is the most wonderful friend I could ever have. It is difficult for me to give that up."

"Think not of what you will lose, but of what you will gain," said Grace, gently. "You have been given a rare opportunity, Miss Lisbon, to know him as well as you do, to be assured of your love before you wed, rather than leaving it to chance like so many others. You must not let it slip away."

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After Grace had left (presumably to go and accept Mr. Rigsby's proposal), all Teresa wanted was to see Jane. Seeing her friend's happiness made her realize just how much she wanted to have that joy for herself. She must put aside her fears and her wounded pride and seize the opportunity she had been given, or live forever in regret.

She rode the mile and a half down the road to Jane's home, and when the stately home came into view, nudged Tommy into a full gallop, suddenly desirous to get there as quickly as possible.

Mr. LaRoche met her at the door.

"Good day, Miss Lisbon. The master will be very pleased you have come; he has been in a state of great agitation today."

"Did he say why?" she asked, suddenly terrified, but to her relief the manservant shook his head.

"No, but whatever it is must be very important. I have never seen him so restless before."

"Where is he?"

"Wandering about the grounds, when last I looked," said Mr. LaRoche unconcernedly. "When you find him, will you please tell him the mail has arrived? He has been asking about it all morning."

Leaving Tommy to LaRoche's care, Teresa set off across the well-kept grass that covered Jane's large estate. She knew these grounds almost as well as she did her own; they had played here together as children. With its many patches of trees, thickets of bushes, and gardens filled with lush flowers, it had been an excellent place for hide-and-seek.

She had spent countless happy days here as a child, never imagining that she might be mistress of it someday.

She rounded a bed on the garden path, and found that she was heading toward the eastern side of the property, where lay a pool, surrounded by shrubbery that they had used to swim in during the summertime. It was a warm day today, and she was struck by how pleasant it would be to take off her shoes and dip her feet in the cool water for a moment. She was surprised, however, to find that she was not the only one to have such an idea.

Jane was standing at the water's edge, and as she watched, he plunged his hands into the water and splashed it onto his face and neck. It seemed the light sprinkling had not been enough to satisfy him however, as he gave a small sigh, before sitting on the grass to remove his shoes and socks. He then discarded his hat and coat, loosened his tie, and undid his collar.

She stepped behind a tangly bush, and watched; transfixed as he approached the edge once more clad only in his trousers and white shirt, and dove cleanly into the water. He swam the length of the pool and then broke the surface at the other end, glistening drops of water falling from his wet hair and his shirt completely transparent, leaving hardly anything to the imagination.

She flushed furiously, but was unable to look away, for never had she experienced a sight so glorious as this. A strange and most unladylike thought took up residence in her head, that she should very much like to go and help him dispense of that shirt altogether, not to mention the very extensive list of other things she would also like to do to him, none of which were very chaste, but all of which made her tingle all over with excitement.

She observed him make a few more lengths of the pool and then delightfully, unbutton the shirt and throw it aside, allowing her to truly appreciate his very pleasing chest and arms. Oh, to wake up to that every morning would be most satisfactory indeed, and to think that this frankly ridiculously handsome man should have chosen her of all people to be his partner in life was a concept that she was still getting used to.

She had been so engrossed in her own thoughts, she hadn't noticed she'd been gradually edging out of the camouflage of the bush, until he addressed her.

"You know, you never were much good at hide and seek Teresa," he said, with a grin, as she scowled in displeasure at having been caught out.

"How long have you known I was there?" she asked.

"Quite long enough, my lady, I assure you," he said. "I always have enjoyed putting on a show for a willing audience; though I do believe you will need to say a few extra Hail Mary's for those impure thoughts that were running through your head."

Seeing as she could not truthfully deny this accusation, she instead deigned to make no response at all. Unfortunately, the smirk that crossed his face told her that he took her silence as confirmation of his theory.

"Can I not persuade you to join me?" he asked, extending a hand to her. "I'm sure you will find the water most refreshing." She did not think she had ever received a more inviting offer, and she was sorely tempted to accept him, but something told her that the Almighty would probably not approve of engaging in such shenanigans with a man to whom she was not married, or even engaged.

Well, not yet anyway.

"I thank you, but no," she said reluctantly, like the well brought up lady she was, and he smiled fondly, shaking his head.

"Miss Lisbon, respectable to the last," he said.

"I wouldn't say that exactly," she said. "In fact, some might say your influence has on occasion made me act in a quite unrespectable manner."

"Perhaps I have led you from the path of righteousness from time to time," he said, "but you cannot deny, you always enjoyed yourself."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same, for slipping off with him for one of their adventures had always been the highlight of her day then, and her most cherished memories now.

"I would even venture to say," he continued, "that given recent events, it's safe to assume that you still do."

He made one final length of the pool and then pulled himself out of the water. She tried not to notice the way the afternoon sun made his still-wet skin seem to glisten, and the way the fabric of his trousers clung to his body like a second skin. She noted his strong legs and (she was going straight to hell for this one) shapely posterior as he bent to gather his discarded clothes. He carelessly draped them over one arm, obviously with no intention of re-dressing, and then approached her.

"So tell me Miss Lisbon," he said, with a teasing twinkle in his eye. "What precisely brought you to my home this fine day?"

"I have been doing a lot of thinking about what happened in the stables," she said.

She had decided on the way over that there was no point beating about the bush, despite her own embarrassment in discussing their scandalous little interlude. "All day and all night I have ruminated upon it and yet it refuses to leave my mind."

"If it comforts you, my lady, I too have thought of nothing else," said Jane, seriously, dropping his jovial persona. "Except to wonder if you would ever be in my arms again."

She found herself studying the arms in question, remembering how they had felt as they wrapped around her; strong, yet somehow gentle at the same time, and how she craved to throw herself into them now, but she forced herself to look away.

"Did you speak to Miss Van Pelt?" he asked. "I know you were worried that an attachment between us would cause her pain."

"I did. It seems you are the winner of our wager, Jane," she said, with a rueful smile. "Your Mr Rigsby has made her an offer of marriage, and you will be pleased to hear she has accepted."

"That is truly wonderful news," he said, flashing her that brilliant smile. "I am very glad to hear they have both found happiness. And she does not carry any resentment for you or me?" he asked cautiously, knowing Teresa would be most upset if their love had caused her to lose her friend.

"On the contrary, she gives us her whole-hearted blessing," she said. "In fact, she was surprised to hear that we were not engaged already."

She did not dare look at him as she uttered the last few words, and felt the colour rising in her cheeks once again.

"Which leaves only the heart of Lord Mashburn to be crushed by the news," he said.

The mention of the lord brought Teresa's anger towards him back with a full force; the fact that Jane did not yet know of his deception having momentarily slipped her mind.

"I say, you have nothing to fear on that score," she said, viciously, and then recounted everything she had overheard between her father and the Lord the previous day. Jane listened to her tale with an unreadable expression on his face, and when she had finished, was silent for a few moments, as though taking it all in.

"I always knew Mashburn was the manipulative type," he said. "And your father would do anything to secure your happiness, Teresa, but such calculated deception I did not foresee."

"I am furious with both of them," said Teresa, vehemently, "and so should you be, Jane. They played us both for fools."

"And are we not fools?" he asked. "For all these years, the woman I love has been right under my nose, and it took the threat of losing you to someone else to make me see it. A fool indeed."

"So you are not angered by this revelation?" she asked, greatly surprised by how well he was taking this.

"Of course I am," he said. "But how much so, depends on the outcome."

"The outcome?" she asked, knowing what he meant, but wanting him to say it all the same.

He reached for her hand and entwined her fingers with hers. Her heart stuttered at the sudden contact of bare skin as he ran his thumb gently backwards and forwards over the back of her hand.

"With Mashburn out of the equation, our path is clear," he said, quietly, gazing into her eyes. "Nothing stands in our way."

He studied those emerald eyes he knew so well and loved so dearly, and saw panic rise in them as she realized what he was getting at. He tightened his hand on hers to counteract the flight reflex he knew was coming, and lovingly touched her face so she wouldn't try to look away.

"You must know my wishes on this subject," he said. "So, my dearest, loveliest Teresa, it is up to you."

He'd never felt this nervous in his life before. Not on his first day at the school in London, not even when he and Mashburn had fallen victim to that group of armed ruffians in a back alley on a later trip to the capital. Such weak-minded individuals had been easily placated by a combination of his mental acuity and Mashburn's fat moneybags. But this was torture, standing and waiting for her answer, knowing that this woman had the power either to ensure his happiness, or seal his doom forevermore. Bandits with knives were child's play compared to this.

He felt her start to tremble, her pulse racing, and she took a series of deep, calming breaths.

"I'm sorry Jane," she said, her eyes downcast. "I can't."

To Jane, this was obviously what it felt like to be stabbed in the heart. It was as though somebody had taken a hold of it, attacked it with a blade and then ripped it cleanly from his chest all in a single second. He would surely die from this pain, slowly and torturously; there could be no recovery from such a disappointment.

He forced himself to look at her again, to be a gentleman, even while he felt his soul being cleaved in two, for surely she too must be hurting. But to his astonishment, there was a smile playing at her lips, and her body was still shaking though not from sorrow, but from mirth. As laughter began to bubble out of her, to his mingled relief, and irritation he realized that he'd been had.

"Why you little-"

"I'm sorry," she said again, through her giggles. "But I wasn't finished."

As his heart rate began to return to normal, he felt her hand reach up and tenderly stroke his jawline. "What I was going to say," she said, gently, "was that I couldn't possibly give you an answer to a question you never asked."

"Excuse me?"

She gave a little smile. "Think back, Patrick," she said. "Your intentions have been perfectly clear, but you never actually asked me."

By the Lord, she was right. They had discussed it after the kissing but he'd never come right out and said it, had he? He'd just assumed that would be the next step, but he should have known that wouldn't be enough for her.

"You are right," he said. "Forgive me, my love. Both for that, and for this."

She only had time to look mildly confused before he swept her into his arms, carried her to the pool, and unceremoniously dropped her into the water. He doubled up laughing as she broke the surface of the water with a shriek of disbelief, eyes blazing.

"Now we are even," he said, reaching out a hand to help her out. She accepted it gratefully, but rather than begin climbing up the bank, gave it a sharp tug so he fell in too. It was now her turn to laugh as he popped up beside her, looking mildly shocked.

"Now we are even," she corrected him. "An eye for an eye."

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her against him, revelling in the feel of her tiny frame against his body. "Marry me," he whispered.

"Is that an order or a request?"

"Whichever is more likely to have you accept me," he said. "For I would ask it any way you choose, or do whatever you wish, to have you be mine."

She wound her arms around his neck, finding that despite the cool water, his skin was warm to the touch.

"What a fine thing, to have the great Patrick Jane at mercy to my every whim," she said. "To honour my every wish."

"Agree to be my wife and I always shall," he said. "My ignorance has cost us too many years already, and I do not intend to repeat that mistake."

"Neither do I," she said, drawing him in for a soft kiss, which steadily grew more and more passionate until they were both gasping for breath.

"You still haven't answered me yet," he said, when their lips had parted.

"Can you not guess?"

He smirked. "I have learned not to assume anything where you are concerned, my love."

"Then my answer is yes, you fool," she said fondly. "For who else would have you, if not me?"

"Who indeed?" he said, and full of joy, kissed her again.

For fear of catching cold, they soon abandoned the aquatic activities, and instead chose to lay out under the sunshine so their clothes might dry before they returned to the house, and awkward questions. Luckily, this area was so far from the main house that none of the servants came out here very often, leaving them undisturbed.

Happily, the kissing continued for several hours as the last rays of the afternoon sun beat down upon them and it began to sink beneath the horizon. She sighed in contentment as he planted a series of slow, languid kisses down her neck, teasing at the neckline of her gown and nudging aside her hair that had long since tumbled down from its chignon.

It was as if these last few days had never even happened. All the heartache and confusion seemed to have melted away like dew drops in these last blissful hours, leaving her happier than she could ever remember being.

"I could bribe Mr. Wainwright to marry us tonight," he said, between kisses.

"We cannot," she said, running a hand lazily up and down his arm. "We must tell my father first. We must do this properly, in the eyes of God."

"I don't want to wait any longer," he breathed. She was in little doubt as to what he was alluding to, and felt her own body clench momentarily in anticipation. If the kissing was anything to go by, the benefits of marriage were going to be positively divine.

"We must. Grace will no doubt want to be there, my father and Mashburn will want to rejoice in their success and imagine the joy a wedding will bring to all our other friends in town. Besides," she wriggled against him, and grinned at the sharp intake of breath he took, "good things happen to he who waits."

He chuckled to himself, and placed a final kiss on her forehead.

"I do not know why I continue to argue with you, my love, when we both know I could not deny you anything, today of all days." Abruptly, he got to his feet, and dusted the little excess dirt from his clothes. "Come, let us tell your father of the happy news."

She let him pull her to her feet and place his coat about her shoulders as the first chill of early evening began to set in.

"My father will be insufferable," she said, taking his hand. The man, once her friend, now her fiancé, and soon to be her husband, squeezed hers comfortably.

"Mashburn will not let me forget this for the rest of our days." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "We owe them much."

"We do," she agreed, as a wicked smile began to spread over her face. "But they don't have to know that, do they? I think we ought to teach them a lesson, about keeping their noses out of other people's business."

An equally devilish smiled graced his features, and she pushed back the momentary urge to pull him behind the nearest tree and throw herself onto him. But all in good time.

"I love you," she said, instead.

"And I you, my dear friend. And I, you."

A/N: Fans of Austen, I don't think I need to tell you which scene I borrowed from the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I hope you liked it. I sure did.

One more chapter to go, an epilogue by Donna. Thanks for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed our story; I had a blast writing it.

To Donna, my friend and esteemed writing partner, I say a huge thank you for allowing me to do this story with you. I know AU's are a specialty of yours and I would never have dreamed of attempting one without your skill and guidance. I couldn't ask for a better writing partner.