Alexander and Charlotte did most of what they had planned for the afternoon, and saw much of the Rue de Rivoli on foot, with the last section to the Place de la Concorde by carriage. Charlotte had not known what to expect, but having seen the filth of the lower London streets, she was ready for anything.

There were certainly dirty parts of Paris, but the Rue turned out to be as sparkling clean as a new shilling, and to a degree that Charlotte found cheerful and surprising. They passed luxury shops, restaurants of all sorts and cafés beyond number, and they saw more fashionable people than Charlotte would ever be able to describe in her journal or her letters back home to her family.

The passers-by kept Charlotte's head turning all day – men strutting in tall hats and crisp waistcoats with women on their arms holding colorful parasols, wearing dresses with voluminous ruffles at the back that moved from side to side as they walked. Charlotte did not wish for more elegance in her own clothing, but she did realize very quickly that she was not in the slightest overdressed for a casual walk down the long boulevard. And though she and Alexander were taking in the sights, it seemed to Charlotte that most of the people they passed were simply taking in the sight of each other, which often made her smile.

They stopped and watched the world go by for a time themselves at a café, drinking coffee and devouring pain au chocolat warm from the oven in all its flaky, buttery goodness. Bookstores drew them in, with piles upon piles of books in all the languages of the world, set upon steep stairways and into balconies with plush window seats designed for reading privately, or for surreptitious kisses with the aromas of leather and ancient paper swirling around them.

As they always did, they spent the day talking as they walked. At one point, Charlotte remarked on the pleasing uniformity of design for the fronts of buildings on the long arcade of the Rue, and Alexander explained that it was an example of Napoleon's requirements that his architects adhere to strict urban design codes. That led Charlotte to tell Alexander of Young Stringer and his study to be an architect, which steered her into recounting the night of the fire and the death of his father – and from there, their conversation moved naturally to talk of her separation from Sidney Parker.

"That night was horrible in so many ways," Charlotte said, looking off into the distance. "Not only the loss of life, but it began a sequence of events that had great bearing on my own life."

Alexander pulled her closer and led her to a bench where they could sit for a time. "As I believe I told you," he said, "We could see the fire from the upper windows at Heyrick House, and I will admit to mixed feelings. I was still so angry then about Tom Parker's development of Sanditon – I felt I had escaped London only to have it follow me home." He looked down at their joined hands as he shook his head. "I cannot bear to think about how selfish I was." He turned to her with pain in his eyes. "And you are so precious to me now, to think that you were near that fire, that it affected you so deeply, and that a man lost his life…"

Charlotte turned and put her hand to his cheek. "I do not know when you decided that you should be immune to natural human feelings, or somehow rise above the conflicts we all face daily – but what you felt was understandable, and you must not chastise yourself." She sighed and said, "Here I am telling you that my greatest loss in the fire was of my hopes for a marriage proposal." She shook her head. "You have no sole claim on a shallow reaction to the events of that night."

Alexander smiled and took a deep breath. "I might never have known you."

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. "If Sidney had asked me and I had accepted? That is likely true. I doubt he would have wanted to settle in Sanditon. London was much more to his taste…" Charlotte gazed out at the people walking by, lost in thought. "And now I know that it would have been a disastrous match." She turned to Alexander. "We were wholly unsuited for each other, no matter how much I believed at the time that it was what I wanted."

Smiling, Alexander said, "You are trying to ease my mind, and I love you for it."

"No," Charlotte said, her face open. "No, it would have been truly terrible." A burst of understanding transformed her features. "It would have been as much of a mismatch as you have described between you and Lucy. It is so interesting to me that you are a man of much greater wealth and position in society than Sidney, yet he always made me feel inferior to him in my farm upbringing and my lack of important relations." She smiled at Alexander. "Do you realize that has never been an issue between us? In fact, I have felt that you value my life at Heywood Manor more than you would had I grown up in the ballrooms of London."

Alexander nodded. "That is the absolute truth. I feel nothing but admiration and the highest regard for the quality of your family and the education they provided you. You have far more sense in your head and compassion in your heart than any of the women I met in ballrooms."

Charlotte thanked him with a smile. "Until he professed to love me, Sidney seemed to think I had no sense at all." She sighed. "And he was not a lover of the country. He much preferred the city and its noise and clatter. He loved the ale-houses, and I have since learned in some talks with Mary that he knew a number of women before me, in a much more familiar way than he knew me. He always seemed to choose drinking with his friends over any other sort of society. Did I think all of that would simply stop because he found me interesting for a while? I fear our marriage would have been doomed from the start."

He smoothed a curl back from her face tenderly. "It was still a loss. I will repeat what you said to me. You loved him once."

Charlotte nodded. "Yes. I believed I did. And I grieved his loss bitterly. But now I am unable to separate that grief from the loss of my own innocence. I had a simple view of life when I first arrived in Sanditon, and Sidney was a man of many mysteries. I have not told you how very badly he treated me for most of the time I knew him, because I do not like to speak ill of the dead. I believed I had effected a change in him, that I had opened his heart – but in the end that was a false assumption, and he chose to turn his back on me."

"He was a fool," Alexander said simply.

Laughing sadly, Charlotte said, "I am certain that on some level he knew that we would have made each other miserable." She turned to Alexander with love in her eyes. "And now that I know what love truly is, I am so grateful for the twists of fate." She took a quick glance around, and seeing again that no one in Paris cared if a couple kissed in public, she leaned up to Alexander and placed her lips on his. He folded her into his shoulder, wrapping his arm around her – and on a bench in the City of Lights, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Colbourne became just another pair of lovers sharing a romantic kiss.

Alexander moved his lips to her cheek and said, "Much as I would love to sit here and hold you, the sun will set soon. Are you ready to continue the tour?"

Smiling, Charlotte pulled away and said, "Absolutely." She stood and took his hand. "Where is our next adventure?"

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "It happens that we are coming to a crossroads and could veer off if we choose. This road, the Rue de Castiglione, would take us north to Place Vendôme. Napoleon didn't build that place – it was laid out during the time of Louis XIV, who used the open space to celebrate his victories. He called it Place des Conquêtes until his armies started losing. Never one to pass up a chance to glorify himself, he renamed it, quite immodestly, Place Louis le Grand."

Charlotte laughed. "A very strong sense of self does seem to be a requirement for kings, does it not?"

"Yes, it does, and it is not helped by the fact that they generally have very few people around them who will tell them the truth." Alexander pulled her closer. "I could never be allowed to feel so infallible with my dear wife by my side, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for it."

Charlotte smiled up at him. "We count on each other for that."

They had stopped at the intersection of the two roads, and Charlotte said, "So tell me about the Place Vendôme. Because it will need to be quite compelling to take me off of the yellow ribbon…" She raised an eyebrow and Alexander sighed, remembering.

"Oh, you will cause me to forget my facts, if you distract me with those memories," he said, laughing softly. "Let me see… there is a tall column in the middle of the place that Napoleon added just ten years ago. He melted down the bronze cannons captured from the defeated Russian and Austrian armies to create the relief that covers the column. And can you guess what way Napoleon considered the best to top off a column? With a statue of himself, of course."

Laughing, Charlotte took his hand, "That is all I need to know. I believe I may have already seen enough likenesses of Napoleon to last me a lifetime. But I will admit to feeling some envy of Charles Lockhart and his ability to draw. Pictures would be a welcome addition to my writing, although I could never do the sights justice. Everywhere we have walked I have seen artists sitting in the parks with their easels and their sketchpads. This must have been a sort of Heaven for Charles."

Alexander nodded. "And yet, he chose to give it up for love," he said, kissing the top of Charlotte's head. "I should think even the most beautiful place would be no antidote for heartsickness."

"Yes," she said softly. "Even the magnificence of the cliffs could not cure my desolation in your absence."

Charlotte looked up at the unclouded blue sky they had enjoyed all afternoon and closed her eyes as she held onto Alexander for balance. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she simply listened to the carriages and the voices around them. "Whereas, if one is given the gift of an exceedingly beautiful place, and the one you love most in the world, that becomes l'embarras des richesses, an embarrassment of riches, almost more than our tender hearts can take in…"

"I intend to keep you in that state for the entirety of our honeymoon, my love. Tell me what you want, and it will appear," Alexander said.

Charlotte opened her eyes and looked up at him with a playful smile. "I might be just a little bit hungry…"

Laughing, Alexander said, "Why does this not surprise me?" He looked around and gauged the sun, which was lowering in the sky. "I shall find us a suitable restaurant which will give us a prospect of the sunset and more delicious and unexpected delights than you can imagine."

Charlotte sighed happily. "Who needs Louis or Napoleon when I have you…" she said, taking his outstretched hand and following the man she was very glad to call the king of her heart.

Samuel freshened Eva's tea and looked out at the gardens. "I cannot tell you how much I love being here now," he said softly.

Eva smiled across the table at him. "It feels a very different place, to be sure."

Putting his hand over hers, Samuel said, "You have always been here for us. I cannot be sure we would have survived had it not been for you."

Looking down into her cup, Eva sighed. "I wish I could forget the times I was not able to stop him from hurting you," she said softly. Then she looked up and gave Samuel a sad smile. "But I do try to focus on the good."

"And there is so much good now, is there not?" Samuel said.

Nodding, Eva said, "Your brother is transformed, that is certain. I remember the first moment that I felt Miss Heywood was going to bring about change in this house. I did not know what transpired in their interview, but Xander was not the same from their first meeting. He must have asked five times at dinner that night what my opinion was of her. 'She is young, is she not? But not naive,' he said. Then, 'I do not feel Augusta will run rough-shod over her, do you not think, Eva?' Then, 'She seems very bright, does she not?'" Eva shook her head and took a sip of tea. "I remember thinking that this one had him by the tail. And not only because she was younger and much prettier than our other governesses. As you know, that would be more something that would set your brother against her, after Lucy. No, he was completely off his feet. Do you know that she gave him a dressing-down, strode out of his office, and he saddled Hannibal and ran after her on the cliffs to offer her the position? I thought he had taken leave of his senses!"

Samuel laughed and raised an eyebrow. "That does not sound like my brother, but now that I have met the governess in question, it makes perfect sense. She is extraordinary. A unique combination of strength and softness, and she does utterly love him. She sees the best in him, as we do."

Eva smiled. "And with her, he has become the man we always knew he could be. It is the most we can hope for in a marriage." Eva took another sip of her tea and looked over the rim of her cup. "And on the subject of marriage…"

Samuel laughed. "Oh, not you too!" he said, leaning back and looking out at the garden.

"So I am not alone in my observances?" Eva said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Little Leonora asked on our picnic if Marie and I would marry as Alexander and Charlotte had."

Eva smiled inscrutably. "A pertinent question from a very sharp-eyed child. We have all seen it – she is just open enough to ask the question." After a pause, she tilted her head and said, "So… will you?"

Samuel sighed. "I continue to tell myself that more of the particulars must be settled before that is even a question. She must decide to stay here in Sanditon, I must choose to open a solicitor's office, there are details to work out and contracts to be signed…"

"Samuel Colbourne," Eva said, adopting a tone that he remembered well from his childhood. "Stop being a lawyer for five minutes and ask your heart what you want."

Samuel exhaled and looked across the table at Eva. "I want Marie. I want to be married to her. I want her to be the person I see first in the morning and last at night."

"Well, then," Eva said, sipping her tea. "That appears to be settled."

Laughing softly, Samuel said, "I suppose it does."

Eva reached across the table and took his hand. "I could not be happier, Samuel. She is lovely, and she forces you, in the gentlest way, to laugh at yourself and not take the world so seriously."

"She does," Samuel said, nodding. "The world seems brighter with her in it. And she is so very talented. I cannot for the life of me understand what she sees in me, but she has allowed that she loves me. And I do love her."

Eva exhaled. "I feel so very blessed that my two boys have found such happiness." She took a moment, gazing at Samuel, and then spoke softly. "And now that all know Georgiana's story, you can comprehend that from the moment I learned she was here in Sanditon and that her mother was not… I have felt a strong maternal bond for her as well."

Samuel smiled. "She feels it, Eva. You become daily more important to her. She has commented on it."

A light blush darkened Eva's cheeks. "That makes me happy." She gazed at Samuel intently. "But I am feeling compelled to do more. She needs her mother, and I feel strongly that her mother must also need her."

Samuel shrugged. "We have written to her in St. John from my London office, but have received no reply. We know she was alive a year ago when Sidney Parker spoke with her, but much could have happened since then," he said.

"When you wrote to her, was Georgiana's inheritance still in question? Has Sarah been apprised of the decision you all have taken to allow the suit to go forward so that Charles Lockhart and Georgiana may be married? Does she know of Colonel Lennox's death?" She looked intently at Samuel. "I believe she is still afraid that her presence will upset her daughter's life. She needs to know that it will not and that she is wanted here. Whether she chooses to come back to a place that gave her such sadness will then be up to her."

Samuel nodded. "Of course you are right. I will send another letter."

"Let me," Eva said softly. "I will write to her and ease her mind. I have looked into the costs of sailing from St. John to Plymouth Harbor. It is a journey of twenty-one days and the cost is thirty guineas. I should like to buy her passage and even if she does not use it then I will still consider the money well-spent."

Frowning, Samuel said, "Eva. Let us pay for the ticket."

Raising one eyebrow with a look that Samuel recognized well, Eva said, "Your brother has been putting wages into an account in my name since the day he inherited the estate. I have no idea how much is in there at this point, but I wager it will cover a sea voyage. It is likely enough to purchase the entire ship."

Samuel laughed. "I know better than to argue with you. So be it. And will you tell Georgiana?" he asked.

Eva looked out at the trees and frowned slightly. "No. And neither will you." She looked back at Samuel and nodded. "The girl has known enough heartache in her young life. No need to give her cause to think her mother does not wish to see her again."

Charlotte leaned back in her chair in what she assumed was a very unbecoming manner, but she could not help it.

"Ooof. You remember what I said about eating my way through Paris? May I rescind that statement, please? I am bursting!" She closed her eyes and tried to laugh but did not have the strength. "Oh, this corset was most definitely not this tight when we left the flat."

Alexander had no such restriction on his breathing, but he did his best to curb his laughter. "What can I do? I should not like you to faint as Augusta did on the croquet field." He shook his head in wonder. "Why you women do this to yourselves is beyond me." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I have seen what is under your corset and it is as perfect as it could possibly be. If you left the flat without wearing that torture device, no one would be the wiser."

"I have half a mind to take you up on that suggestion tomorrow, but it unfortunately does me no good tonight. It will be easier if I stand, actually, and perhaps we can find a dark corner somewhere. I only need you to hold my cape while I reach around behind…"

Alexander smiled and raised his eyebrow. "This is beginning to sound extremely diverting," he said, raising his hand and calling the waiter over to the table. He mimed a pen in the air asking for the check and the waiter gave a short bow. It was brought immediately and Alexander stood and pulled Charlotte's chair out for her.

Charlotte was scanning the area for the dark corner she had suggested, and her eyes found it. It was in a small alcove just off the walking path, and she and Alexander simply looked like another pair of young Parisian lovers who could wait no longer for a kiss. She put her back against the wall and her husband shielded her, but he could not resist making the rest of the charade look as real as possible – so he bent his lips to her neck while he teased her relentlessly. "Was it the mutton chop in burgundy sauce? Or perhaps the potato tartiflette? The artichokes with escargot? The warm bread with honeyed butter?"

Laughing, Charlotte said, "Oh, please do stop!" She had managed to unbutton the lower buttons of her dress in the back, but was having a terrible time with the top ones. It did not help that Alexander was simultaneously making her laugh and causing her to sigh as he kissed the soft skin of her neck. "Please, my love, help me with the buttons…"

He reached his hands around her back and made quick work of it. "Now what?" he said.

"Take hold of the laces and untie them, then pull to loosen them," Charlotte said quickly.

Suddenly, she could breathe and she exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank God. I loved you before but in this instant you are truly my ideal man. You may have just saved my life."

They were still in the darkness of the alcove and Alexander looked around. Absolutely no one had taken notice of them, and in truth it was very nice and warm inside Charlotte's cape. He pressed closer as he slowly re-buttoned the back of her dress. "I believe I would not mind doing this every night after dinner, so I take back my suggestion that you not wear a corset," he said, moving his mouth close to her ear and allowing the warmth of his breath to cause her to shiver. As he continued buttoning, his lips found hers and they fell into a kiss so deep that Charlotte nearly forgot entirely that they were only a few feet from a very busy Paris street.

Sighing into his kiss, she tasted the tartness of the coffee and raspberries they had enjoyed just moments ago, and she felt this become a memory that would stay with her for the rest of her life. This was Paris – the sounds of the carriages clattering by, of voices in all languages, the abandon of their passion and their love for each other, alone yet in a crowd, the lilt of music somewhere in the distance, and the desire she felt building in her with every second that passed.

When Alexander finally moved his chin to her shoulder, his breath coming quickly, the buttons had long been fastened, and they both emerged into the present as if from a dream.

"Have you seen enough of Paris for one day?" Alexander said, his voice low in her ear.

Now freed of the constraints of her corset, Charlotte stretched like a cat and put her arms around his neck. Smiling, she said, "All I am seeing now is a dark alcove, but I would not mind walking back to the flat rather than hiring a carriage. How far are we?"

"Not far – perhaps twenty minutes?" He raised an eyebrow, "Provided you find no more alcoves for us to explore…"

Charlotte laughed and freed herself from his embrace, taking his hand. "That was purely out of necessity. I was going to expire," she said, leading him back out to the walking path.

"Well, be certain to let me know if you feel you might expire again, my love, and I will be glad to oblige…"

From the Colbourne box in the Royal Theater, Samuel was in the perfect position to throw a rose directly into Marie's hands as she looked up at him, her face glowing. The opening night performance of The Merchant of Venice had been a resounding success, with what seemed to be everyone in Sanditon and the outlying areas in attendance, filling the house.

Tom and Mary Parker sat in the box just below Lady Denham's, along with Arthur, who was so proud and happy it could be felt all the way across the theater. Arthur had told everyone that there was to be a special guest at the opening night performance, and although every other person was on their feet during the multiple curtain calls, the gentleman in question held his seat, all alone in the box just below Samuel. Instead, he was making notes with a small quill and inkstand that Arthur had set up specifically for his use.

For he was a theater critic from none other than The London Times. Tom Parker had been hounding the man since the first brick was laid on the new theater, but it was ultimately the addition of Marie Branscombe to the cast that convinced him to make the long carriage ride to Sanditon. He had seen her Juliet and was a man who was always in search of fresh and emerging theater experiences.

Tom was beside himself with anticipation, telling everyone that this could finally be what would put Sanditon into a similar class with Brighton and Bath as a premiere seaside resort. Although Tom now stood on his feet applauding, the truth was, he had seen very little of the play, choosing instead to watch Mr. John Thadeus Delane in the box directly across from him as he scowled and made notes for the entire duration of the play. At various points, Mr. Delane had chuckled and nodded, and each movement was described by Tom to both Mary and Arthur, who shushed him and begged him to stop so they could enjoy what was going on onstage.

"Marie was wonderful!" Leonora said enthusiastically, peering through the double rails on the box. "I especially liked it when she was a lawyer!"

Augusta was standing and applauding with the rest of them, a huge smile gracing her face. She looked at Samuel next to her. "We saw a performance of Twelfth Night when we were in London, and none of the actresses could rival Marie. She is so very good!"

Behind them, Georgiana and Charles were standing with Eva, all of them in wonder at what they had just seen.

Samuel could hardly contain his admiration for her and his pride that she had chosen him as the one she loved. He had watched many rehearsals, but now he knew that Marie was, as most natural actors are, made even better by the addition of an audience. As she looked up at him and took her bows, Samuel knew that it was time.

Before the night was over, he would get down on one knee and ask Marie Branscombe to be his wife. Waiting until everything fell neatly into line was a never-ending process, and he suddenly felt he had spent his life waiting for circumstances to be perfect. Tonight, he would leap before he looked. He would make a choice not knowing how it would resolve itself. He loved her, and that was all that mattered.

Charlotte had vowed that each evening before going to sleep she would begin to fill the pages of the journal she had brought with her, writing her memories of the day in hopes that the week would not begin to meld together as it always did when traveling to new and exciting places. From her journal's recollections, she would compose her letters to Eva and the girls, and to Alison, Catherine, her mother, and the rest of her family. She hoped in the ensuing days to do some of her writing at one of the small round tables that sat on the Rue de la Gaité just under their terrace.

Tonight, she was already a day behind in her aspirations for her journal, and as she and Alexander made their final walk home for the night she told him that he was not to come near her until she had finished. His eyes dancing, he replied that she sounded less than convincing as she said it, though she had tried to affect a solemn look to let him know of her resolve. He raised his hands in submission, and then pulled her closer and kissed her, nullifying any faint hope she had that he might easily comply.

Charlotte lifted her chin in the way he loved. "I wonder if there are other apartments that are unspoken for in our building. Perhaps I shall secure one so that I might write in peace."

Alexander looked sideways at her and smiled. "Is that what you really want to do?" he asked softly.

"No," she said, her determination crumbling under his gaze. She looked at him from under her lashes. "What I should like is for my husband to read quietly while I empty my thoughts onto the page, and then I shall join him in bed."

Alexander put his arm around her as they came to the front of their building. "And that is exactly what I will do." He bowed gracefully, indicating that she should precede him through the door.

He was as good as his word. Although it took every ounce of his strength, Alexander managed to remain detached while Charlotte bathed and dressed in her nightclothes, and then sat down at the table to write. She was intent on the employment of her task while he prepared himself for bed and climbed under the covers with the book he had purchased in a small shop on the way home: Les Sonnets de Shakespeare. Although English had been Shakespeare's native language, Alexander loved the sound of his brilliance in French.

Finally, Charlotte stretched and blew out the candle. She spread her fingers wide and wiggled them, looking over at her husband reading in bed. He was rapt, and either he was feigning his absorption in Shakespeare's sonnets in order to prove to her that he was following her wishes, or he truly was lost in the beauty of the language.

As she neared the bed, he looked up at her and smiled. Without a word, he looked back at the book and began to read to her in perfectly inflected French:

Comment te comparer aux beaux jours de l'été?

(Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?)

Ta grâce est plus aimable et ton humeur plus douce.

(Thou art more lovely and more temperate.)

Son vent rude abolit les bourgeons veloutés

(Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May)

Et son bail est bien court: déjà l'hiver le pousse.

(And summer's lease hath all too short a date.)

Charlotte sighed and moved under the covers with him as he continued, and this time she was the one distracting him, as she moved closer and ran her hands under his nightshirt and then her fingers through the soft hair on his chest. Alexander's voice began to falter as he tried to hold concentration, but it was a lost cause, and finally, he closed the book and dropped it to the floor, pulling her into his arms.

"That was not fair," he said softly.

"Are we bound by the rules of fair play in this situation?" she replied, moving her lips to the hollow of his neck.

"And what if I had promised myself to finish that very sonnet before sleep?" he said, closing his eyes and feeling himself rapidly losing the battle.

Charlotte moved her lips down further, to the taut muscles of his chest, kissing him along the way. "Then I suppose you will simply have to read it after I am finished with you," she said.

Grasping her by the shoulders, he moved her quickly over him, his lips finding hers. Charlotte laughed, saying, "You did not even put up a fight!"

Alexander wrapped her tightly in his arms, feeling the scant weight of her on top of him. "I pick my battles, Mrs. Colbourne…" He stopped her laughter with a kiss, this time longer and deeper, until neither of them were thinking of books or writing or anything but the welcome and needed touch of the other.