As soon as they arrived at Chandos House, Irenna excused herself to go upstairs and freshen up. She feared there might be blood on the bottom of her boot, and she urgently wanted to wash her face and hands.

Not that mere soap and water could erase the memory of her fear. Eroding the sharp, bitter taste of fright, however, was the sweetness of being in Lord Percival’s arms. She felt absurdly safe when she was with him—whoever he truly might be. She would know soon enough, and she found the prospect equally thrilling and terrifying.

She finished patting her face dry, considered donning a fresh gown, then discarded the idea. There wasn’t time, and she didn’t want to make him wait. She did, however, fix her hair, pinning up the stray pieces and trying to make herself presentable.

Leaning into the mirror, she inspected her reflection. Alas, she would never be beautiful. And Lord Percival was so ridiculously handsome. How could a wren ever presume to sit beside a peacock?

“Foolish girl,” she whispered to herself.

“Irenna!” Aunt Sophie knocked once on the door, then opened it and swept inside. “Lord Percival will be here at any moment. We will await him in the drawing room. But before we go downstairs, are you certain there’s nothing you’d like to tell me?”

I fear I’m desperately in love with him.

“No, there’s nothing.”

Irenna could not bear the thought of confessing the depth of her emotions, only to discover she was horribly mistaken. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. It was difficult to believe she had once again made herself so vulnerable. Clearly she had a deep flaw in her personality.

Aunt Sophie gave her a keen look. “Viscount Percival is nothing like that fellow who led you astray in Vienna.”

“Certainly not.” Irenna summoned up a false smile. “Shall we go down?”

Brows drawn together, Aunt Sophie led the way down the staircase.

As they reached the bottom, a knock sounded at the door. The butler opened it to reveal Viscount Percival, and Irenna’s heart lurched inside her chest. She wanted to leap forward and throw her arms about him. She wanted to turn and run back to her room, never to come out again.

“Hello again, ladies,” Lord Percival said. “I’m glad to see you both looking well after the events of the afternoon.”

He locked gazes with Irenna, an intensity in his eyes that made her almost dizzy with fear. With hope.

“Come,” Aunt Sophie said. “I believe the ambassador is awaiting us.”

She slipped her arm through Viscount Percival’s, and Irenna trailed behind, trying to breathe through ever-tightening lungs.

“There you are,” Count Dietrichstein said as they entered the drawing room.

He stood before the hearth, hands clasped behind his back. His expression when he looked at the viscount was stormy.

Viscount Percival let go of the countess and strode to the center of the room, where he turned to face them.

“Lord and Lady Dietrichstein, Miss Brunner, I owe you all an apology—and an explanation.” He drew in a breath. “As Miss Brunner seems to have suspected, I am not the man I appear to be.”

“And thank heavens for that,” Aunt Sophie said under her breath.

“I beg that you keep what I am about to tell you in the strictest confidence,” he continued.

“We know how to hold our tongues,” the ambassador said, shooting a look at his wife.

“My lips will be sealed, dear Lord Percival,” Aunt Sophie said.

Irenna only nodded. She was not, at the moment, capable of speech. Not with the air pressing thickly upon her, and her throat as dry as a winter wind.

The viscount met each of their gazes in turn, and seemed satisfied by what he saw. “For the last decade,” he said, “I’ve been working as a spy for Queen Victoria.”

Irenna felt her heart overflow, and closed her eyes to keep back her tears of relief.

“Ah,” Aunt Sophie said. “That explains so much.”

The ambassador frowned. “So you’ve been duping us all in order to extract as much information as possible?”

“In part, yes. But the Crown was interested in assuring your safety, and that was my primary mission. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same for your own country, ambassador.”

Irenna’s breathing eased the more he spoke. The viscount had behaved with honor. His deceit, though unpalatable, was understandable. Even, dare she say, forgivable.

“Humph.” Count Dietrichstein folded his arms. “Be that as it may, you’ve traded upon your good looks and charm to all sorts of ends. I’ve heard the stories. No need to deny your reputation, sir.”

Lord Percival glanced down at the carpet. “True enough. But no matter what you might think, it’s not been an easy life to live.”

The ambassador snorted, but Aunt Sophie laid her hand upon her husband’s arm. “Think on it a moment, my dear. When could Lord Percival ever truly be himself, when he was always constrained to wear the mask of a fool? How would it be, pretending to know nothing, while attempting to learn everything?”

“I could be myself with Miss Brunner,” the viscount said, turning to meet Irenna’s gaze. “In fact, I suspect you saw right through me not long after our first meeting. One of the very few to ever do so.”

She so desperately wanted to believe him, yet her wary heart trembled. Could he possibly return her feelings? She could scarcely let herself believe it might be so.

“Are you even now your true self, my lord?” she asked. “Or have you grown so used to deception that you wear it always?”

He flinched—ever so slightly, but she saw it. “I swear to you, Irenna, I was not lying when I first came to your rescue. I’d hoped that you knew as much.”

He was obliquely referring to their kiss, and heat swept through her body.

“I came to ask for your help because of it,” she said. “Because I thought I’d glimpsed another man behind the façade, although I did not know for certain.”

“Do you know now?” He took a step toward her, his expression fierce.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I believe I do.”

To her shock, he went down on one knee. “Then, in that knowledge, I ask, Miss Irenna Brunner, if you will consider marrying me.”

“The true Anthony Blake?” she asked, while her pulse threatened to knock her down with its pounding. “The honorable, brave, clever one?”

“The very same.” A wry smile twisted his lips. “Although I’m afraid you must also tolerate the foppish and foolish Lord Percival from time to time. I cannot simply transform overnight, you understand.”

She could scarcely believe this was happening. And yet, there was no denying that Viscount Percival was kneeling before her on the carpet. Asking her to marry him!

“I would consider it,” she said softly. “As long as I can have Anthony most of the time.”

A smile lit his face, making it handsome almost beyond bearing. “You will.”

“Wait,” she said, as he reached for something in his pocket. “Why me? I am a plain wren of a girl, after all.”

His smile faded. “Is that truly how you see yourself, Irenna Brunner? Because that is not the woman standing before me. You are brave and intelligent, clear-eyed and clearheaded, a drink of cool water on a hot day, a sip of warm brandy on a cold night. Your eyes and your lips and your hands are all beautiful to me, your quiet voice and even temperament, your clever mind, the glossy brown of your hair, your skill with a crochet hook, and the way you dance. Need I say more?”

Mutely, she shook her head at him.

“Of course he should,” Aunt Sophie said to her. “You are worthy of his every compliment, Irenna.”

Irenna took two breaths, and finally found her voice. “I fear you would be unhappy marrying me. We scarcely know one another.”

“Then let us have a long betrothal, and you may cry off at any time.” He held out a ring, a gorgeous thing winking with purple amethysts. “For I know I would be unhappier still if you were to say no.”

Aunt Sophie nudged her, a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Say yes, foolish girl.”

“Let Irenna decide,” her husband said sternly.

A shadow crossed Anthony’s face, and he lowered his hand. “Unless I have been mistaken, and you have no feelings for me, Miss Brunner. In which case, I most abjectly beg your forgiveness, and will take my leave. If you wish it, you shall never see me again.”

“No!” Panic flashed through her, and she grabbed his wrist. “It is only that… I am afraid.”

His expression warmed. “And brave enough to admit it. I am afraid, as well. And I neglected to mention one crucial thing.”

“What is that?”

“I love you. You, Irenna—the woman I have seen so far, and the one I have yet to know.”

Not just her heart, but her entire body, was full of light. Of hope. And yet the memory scraped through her of the last time she’d declared her love, only to have scorn and laughter heaped upon her. Despite herself, she stiffened. Then, with her heart beating in her throat, said the words anyway.

“I believe I love you, as well.” It came out rather breathless.

Gently, Anthony took her hand. “We shall make this journey together. I’ve staked my life and the honor of my country on my ability to see and hear beyond the surface. Trust my intentions, Irenna, when I say I'm willing to stake my heart on you. Indeed, I believe we shall make a very good match.”

“As do I!” Aunt Sophie said. “Irenna, stop balking. You are worse than an opera heroine.”

“Enough.” The ambassador set his hand at his wife’s back and steered her to the door. “We shall be in the parlor when you’re finished.”

The door closed on Aunt Sophie’s protests, and Anthony smiled up at Irenna, his blue eyes crinkling at the edges. The expression on his face made her feel warm and cherished. And, rather to her surprise, beautiful.

“Now that we’re alone,” he said, “perhaps I ought to kiss you, to help you make up your mind.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Although her mind was already made up. She would marry him. The rightness of it rang through her. Lord Percival loved her, and she him. It did not matter how impossible and potentially ridiculous the rest of the nobility might find such a thing. The only thing that mattered was the truth shining between them.

He rose in an instant and took her into his arms. She slipped her hands up to his shoulders, and all her apprehension flew away. This man was right for her, as amazing as it might be that they had ever found one another.

His mouth covered hers and she pressed herself against him, losing herself in the kiss. Tingling heat swept up from her feet, and she was engulfed in flame. But it did not singe her, did not scorch her and make her wary. No, this fire burned hot and pure, burned away all the questions and lies until there were just the two of them, twined together.

After a long moment, he pulled back and regarded her. “Might I have your answer now, Miss Irenna Brunner?”

Some mischievous impulse made her smile at him. “I’m not quite certain yet. Another kiss will help me decide.”

He laughed, the genuine laugh of Anthony Blake, not Lord Percival’s foolish bray, then touched his lips to hers again. This time he swept his tongue into her mouth, and her knees went weak at the sensation. She clung to him, senses whirling, and did her best to kiss him back just as fiercely.

Finally, gasping, their mouths parted. She was glad to see he looked a trifle dazed as well.

“I have decided,” she said.

“And? Dare I hope you need yet another kiss?”

“I expect to have kisses aplenty once I’m your wife,” she said. “For yes, Lord Percival, I will marry you.”

He gave a whoop of delight and caught her up in his arms again, this time swinging her in a circle before setting her down. Then, gently, he slid the ring onto her finger and clasped her hand.

“Lady Percival,” he said. “It sounds well on you. And I must confess to one more secret.”

She glanced up at him. “What is that?”

“Although I enjoy Byron’s works, I read far more widely. My country estate boasts a large library, and I offer it all to you.”

She smiled at him, her breath easing. “I caught you out early on, you know. But any man who gives me his library as a wedding present will surely have my heart for as long as poets write.”

“Surely that is a very long time, my love.” He set his hand to her cheek.

She took it and pressed a kiss into his palm.

“Yes,” she said. “I expect it might be forever.”