Edward, who’d known the family well enough to know that the truth would destroy them all. Richard would never forgive Anne for siring a son who was not his, but if he had ever learned that her lover had been his own brother…
Gareth felt himself sink against the wall, needing support beyond his own two legs. Maybe it was a blessing that it had taken this long for the truth to be revealed.
“Gareth?”
Hyacinth was whispering his name, and he felt her come up next to him, her hand slipping into his with a soft gentleness that made his heart ache.
He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know whether he should be angry or relieved. He really was a St. Clair, but after so many years of thinking himself an impostor, it was hard to grasp. And given the behavior of the baron, was that even anything of which to be proud?
He’d lost so much, spent so much time wondering who he was, where he’d come from, and—
“Gareth.”
Her voice again, soft, whispering.
She squeezed his hand.
And then suddenly—
He knew.
Not that it didn’t all matter, because it did.
But he knew that it didn’t matter as much as she did, that the past wasn’t as important as the future, and the family he’d lost wasn’t nearly as dear to him as the family he would make.
“I love you,” he said, his voice finally rising above a whisper. He turned, his heart, his very soul in his eyes. “I love you.”
She looked confused by his sudden change in demeanor, but in the end she just smiled—looking for all the world as if she might actually laugh. It was the sort of expression one made when one had too much happiness to keep it all inside.
He wanted to make her look like that every day. Every hour. Every minute.
“I love you, too,” she said.
He took her face in his hands and kissed her, once, deeply, on the mouth. “I mean,” he said, “I really love you.”
She quirked a brow. “Is this a contest?”
“It is anything you want,” he promised.
She grinned, that enchanting, perfect smile that was so quintessentially hers. “I feel I must warn you, then,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “When it comes to contests and games, I always win.”
“Always?”
Her eyes grew sly. “Whenever it matters.”
He felt himself smile, felt his soul lighten and his worries slip away. “And what, precisely, does that mean?”
“It means,” she said, reaching up and undoing the buttons of her coat, “that I really really love you.”
He backed up, crossing his arms as he gave her an assessing look. “Tell me more.”
Her coat fell to the ground. “Is that enough?”
“Oh, not nearly.”
She tried to look brazen, but her cheeks were starting to turn pink. “I will need help with the rest,” she said, fluttering her lashes.
He was at her side in an instant. “I live to serve you.”