Beautiful, sweet, wonderful music surrounded her. It slipped in and out of her dreams, seeming so real that she stirred in her sleep, wanting to somehow pull it closer. It was soft and light, floating like a feather on the summer breeze. Slowly, Sophie came to wakefulness, confusion already knitting her brow as her eyes blinked open.
Music?
It was muted and soft—angelic, even—but she would have sworn it was real. Where on earth was it coming from? She sat up in bed, squinting in the soft early-morning light. No, it was most definitely not a dream. She started to lift the covers, but the sound of a voice, sweet and pure, froze her movement. Her heart nearly shattered with the force of her shock as she realized exactly what was happening.
Throwing the blankets aside, she raced to the window, tears blurring her vision, and threw up the sash. Her hands flew to her mouth as she took in the sight on the ground below her window.
There in the tentative light of the dawning day, Evan stood not twenty feet away. His arms were lifted toward her as he sang, accompanied by nothing more than the tender strains of a lone harp. Sweet, talented, unbearably handsome Evan. Sophie’s hands dropped to her heart as the tears overflowed and streamed down her cheeks. The letter had come only the day before—how was it possible that he was here now? How had he even found her, tucked away in the country as they were?
It was then that she realized who the harpist was: Julia! A delighted laugh bubbled up from deep within her.
Below, Evan’s voice rose, pure and glorious, heralding the first blush of dawn as he serenaded her with . . . The Barber of Seville! She recognized the song from the opera she had seen only two months earlier.
He was serenading her, just as Count Almaviva had his beloved Rosina.
“Sorgi, mia dolce speme, vieni, bell’idol mio.” The words flowed forth like warm chocolate, the sweetest she had ever heard. She shivered at the beauty of his voice, at the loveliness of the foreign words, and most of all, at the man she adored, professing his love in the most spectacular way she could ever imagine.
Her door squeaked open and Pippa hurried into the room, her bare feet slapping against the wooden floor in her haste. “What is going on? Do you know that man?” she asked, her voice utterly incredulous.
Sophie moved aside to make room for her at the window, her heart overflowing with the sort of joy she’d thought never to feel again. “I do. He’s the Earl of Evansleigh,” she replied, not even trying to temper her smile. “The man I love.”
Pippa sucked in a surprised gasp, then turned back to the window with widened eyes. “But I thought . . . the elopement, the scandal . . . wasn’t he scared away?”
Evan kept singing all the while, his voice rising higher and louder as the aria carried on toward the final crescendo. Oh istante d’amore—Love! That one Sophie knew. She bit her bottom lip, hardly able to contain the happiness that seemed to fill her beyond what she had ever thought possible.
“Oh dolce contento! Soave momento che eguale non ha!”
His voice rose to the heavens as he carried the final note, his vibrato warm and full of tender passion. Tears filled her eyes as the song ended with a flourish. She suddenly couldn’t bear to be separated from him for even one more second. Grabbing her wrapper, she stepped into her slippers and dashed for the stairs. Her sister was right behind her, neither one of them bothering to quiet the pounding of their feet on the treads.
When she emerged into the cool morning air, Evan was waiting for her, his beautiful clear eyes untroubled for the first time since she’d really come to know him. She slowed, soaking in the incredible sight of him and savoring the delicious anticipation that coursed through her like a drug.
His hands went to his sides, and a flicker of nervousness crossed his features. “Did you receive my note?”
Amore. She nodded, biting her lip against the giddy smile that threatened.
He stepped forward, coming close enough that she could have touched him, were she to reach out. “Do you know what it said?”
She swallowed and shook her head, not caring in the least that their sisters were standing together, watching them with wide smiles.
One more step closer. Less than an inch separated them now, and she caught the tantalizing hint of his shaving soap, a scent she had thought never to smell again. “‘Let us enjoy the peace. Let love triumph,’” he whispered, the words almost a caress against her skin. “‘Now every heart will rejoice.’ I wanted you to know that something was about to change. You deserved to hear it from me in person, but I didn’t want you to go a minute longer than you had to without knowing that I was thinking about you. That I was coming for you. That I would be there for you. Now and always.”
The door pushed open again, and her parents appeared in their nightclothes, demanding to know what was going on. Pippa quickly shushed them, but Sophie ignored them completely. Thankfully, so did Evan. Slipping his hands into hers, he laced their fingers together tightly and said, “Sophie Wembley, only you could make my heart sing with love. I’ve denied it for too long, and I find that I can no more walk away from you than I can cease to breathe. Please, put me out of my misery, and say that you will be my wife.”
It was as though the whole world stopped in that moment. Sophie looked up at this man whom she loved, the man who had broken her heart, but now sought to mend it in the most amazing way possible. The man whom she had loved for so long, who haunted her dreams and filled her thoughts.
“Well, don’t keep him waiting,” Pippa said, making Sophie grin back at her. Her sister’s brown eyes were bright with excitement and, even better, hope. It was the first time Sophie had seen hope in her sister’s eyes since she’d arrived, despite all of Sophie’s assurances that everything would work out.
Lifting her eyes to Evan once more, Sophie nodded, over and over again until she could finally speak past the lump in her throat. “Yes. Yes!” she said again, louder this time. She didn’t care what anyone said of them, or what anyone would think. She loved Evan with every piece of her soul.
Grinning broadly, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from her feet, swinging her around in a joyous circle. A small cheer went up from their family, making her laugh out loud. It was the single best moment of her entire life, completely wiping away all the hurt and pain of the last week. Whatever they had gone through, it had all been worth it for this one perfect moment.
When he set her back down, she had only a moment to catch her breath before his lips captured hers in a quick kiss right there in front of everyone. “Forgive me,” he whispered with a wink when he pulled away, “but I hope never to deny myself the pleasure of your company again.”
She hoped that meant many, many more stolen kisses from the earl she adored. Biting back a wide grin, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
* * *
“People are looking at us.”
“Yes, I know.” Evan smiled and nodded toward the gawking neighbor in the next box. The woman’s eyes widened before she snapped up her fan and looked back toward the stage.
“And that doesn’t bother you?” Sophie whispered, her fingers squeezing his tightly.
He lifted their joined hands and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Not in the least. The whole point of coming here was to show the world how we feel about each other. I don’t want one iota of doubt to remain in anyone’s mind that I chose you, and vice versa.”
“And here I thought it was because you wished to see your favorite opera.”
Grinning unapologetically, he shrugged one shoulder. “That, too. But I am much more keen to show off my betrothed.”
He loved the blush that tinged her cheeks. It had been his idea to return to Bath for the remainder of the festival. He wanted to make a statement that no one could misinterpret: Sophie and Evan were indeed betrothed, and they were both very happy at the turn of events.
Julia leaned forward from her seat beside Sophie and lifted an eyebrow. “If you two don’t stop, I may be forced to separate you.”
“I’d like to see you try,” he challenged, purposely tugging Sophie that much closer to him.
It hadn’t been difficult to convince Julia and Harry to serve as their chaperones—though Evan still chafed at the fact that his younger sister and her still younger husband were fit to fill the role. Still, they were as lenient keepers as he could ever hope for.
Sophie grinned, not resisting his efforts at all. “Hush, now, you two. The opera is starting, and you know how much I adore Rossini.” She gave him a private little wink, full of all sorts of promises. He would always be grateful to Rossini for giving him the perfect song with which to win his betrothed’s hand.
As the lamps were turned back and the room grew quiet, Evan savored the contentment that filled his heart. He’d spent so many years denying himself the things he truly wanted in life—the only things that really mattered. Without Sophie, he never would have broken free of the chains of his past. He intended to spend the rest of his life showing her just how much he appreciated her. Right now she was the woman he loved, but soon, and for the rest of their lives, she would always be the countess he adored.