"I'm glad you made it," Linda smiled at Fiona.

"I am too," she replied with a slight squeeze to her hand.

"So have you met Nate, then?"

"Yes," Fiona whispered. "He looked terrible."

"Love does that to people," Linda winked conspiratorially.

"Oh stop that, will you? I don't need a reminder of his feelings for me."

"Why-ever not?"

"Because I'll make him a pathetic duchess," she replied pertly.

"That is for me to decide, Miss Butterworth."

Fiona turned abruptly to find Nate standing right behind her. He looked angry for some reason. Very angry. The duchess should've at least warned her that he was standing right behind her, the traitor.

"Eavesdropping isn't something I would've associated with you, your grace," she curtsied, hoping she'd hidden her emotions well.

"And subterfuge wasn't something I'd associated you with," he snapped.

"What do you mean?"

"You do love me, don't you?" He asked bleakly.

"Stop it, you're creating a scene," Fiona said urgently. People were beginning to gather around them. It's not like they were arguing in a private place so she could hardly blame them. But this would cause talk for months...

"I don't care. I don't care about anything but you...it seems I haven't in a while."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want you in my life, Fiona. I love you and the very thought of existing without you by my side makes me sick."

"I'm sorry but—"

"Don't you dare say you don't love me because we all know that's a lie!"

Fiona made to leave, things were getting out of hand. But he stopped her by catching her wrist.

"Let me go," she begged.

"I'm not letting you go again." He gently cupped her cheek and Fiona knew that her facade of being unaffected was falling apart.

"I was an imbecile to let you go the first time. And I'd be damned if I did it again," he said seriously. He was staring into her eyes, looking at her as if she was the only person in the room...as if she was all that mattered.

After that, Fiona didn't care who was watching them. Because all that mattered to her was this man too.

"Do you love me?" He asked again.

"Of course, I do, you silly goose," she groaned, defeated. But the smile he gave her was so breathtaking that she didn't mind losing just this once.

"That doesn't change the fact that I'd not be the kind of duchess you'd envisioned for yourself, Nate."

"That is utter rubbish and—" he began but she held up her hand.

"Let me say this. I'm not poised and genteel like Lady Sophia. Nor am I as beautiful. I don't have the connections or wealth to recommend me. I don't sing like an angel or dance gracefully. And I'm so very clumsy—God knows I owe you at least seven new vases and sculptures. I don't even speak French well." Fiona was out of breath by the time she finished. Her Duke merely looked amused by her diatribe.

"Well its a good thing that I understand English perfectly well, then," he grinned.

"Nate—" she began frustratedly but this time he didn't let her finish. His face immediately became more serious.

"Fiona, if I wanted poise and grace, I would've married Sophia. Granted, I had thought that I wanted those things in my life. But then I realised that all those things would bore me to death. They wouldn't bring me the same happiness that you do."

"I agree, you don't sing like an angel...that is a gross understatement," he chuckled. "But angelic or no, that is the only sound I wish to hear. You're wrong about one thing...you have any number of things to recommend you."

"Like?"

"You're so kind and giving, Fiona. You're extremely smart and caring. Not to mention, lovable. I think every member of the Bedford household is in love with you."

Fiona grinned at that even though tears were streaming down her face. Nate gently wiped them away with his thumbs.

"There's no one I'd rather make my duchess, Fiona."

"Really?" she croaked out.

He nodded.

"But you deserve someone better. You deserve the best, Nate."

"You are the best. At least for me."

"That is a very romantic thing to say, isn't it?" Fiona turned around and asked the duchess even as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks.

"It is!" Linda nodded approvingly.

"So tell me, Miss Butterworth. Will you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?" he asked and knelt down before her.

There were collective gasps from the crowd but Fiona was too happy to care.

And then she remembered.

"You shall have to ask for Nana's permission," she replied sheepishly.

He was stunned for a moment but then he broke into a dazzling smile.

"So you'll marry me if Jeanette agrees?"

"Yes," she laughed. Actually, she would marry him even if the whole world stood against them. But she had a feeling Nana Jeanette would agree. She did seem to have a weak spot when it came to handsome dukes, after all.

"To Nana Jeanette's then," he announced, already dragging her out. "And on our way there, you can tell me how much you love me and how very happy you are."

"Alright," she grinned.

As they raced out, there were several cheers and claps from the guests. Linda sat back in her chair, extremely satisfied with the turn of events.

"Congratulations, you grace," Winterbottom murmured to her from beside her. He looked satisfied as well. "You don't look very surprised."

"You don't either," she raised one brow.

"To be honest, your grace," Winterbottom flushed guiltily, "I have been hoping for this outcome for a while now."

"I have too, Winterbottom. I have too," she winked.