Page 105 of In With a Chance

The three words were uttered in unison as Gwen laughed with surprise to see the man she loved so unexpectedly before her.

Michael sniffed, muttered something about ingratitude, and walked away to speak to his wife, who had just finished waltzing and had her hands on her stomach.

Gwen barely noticed. Her attention was taken up by the tall, handsome man with a delighted expression and—was that bruising around his nose, creeping up to a black eye?

“You’re hurt!” She had stepped forward before rational thought, irrational thought, any thought could be considered. “Oh, Ernest!”

“Yes, your brother has a particularly fine right hook,” Ernest said dryly, touching his eye and wincing. “I think I’m fortunate he didn’t break my nose.”

“Break your—your nose?” Gwen stared, unable to take it all in.

He was here. Ernest was here.

And he had heard what she had said, which was mortifying in the extreme.

And he had a bruised nose and a black eye, and it was—wait. Michael’s fault?

“Michael hit you?” she said, disbelieving.

“Your brother has a rather sharp sense of honor,” Ernest said with a wry smile, glancing over at the man before returning his attention to her. “I think he wanted to make a point.”

Gwen could hardly believe it. Michael—her brother, Michael, punching a man on the nose in a defense of her?

Michael was laughing at something their father had said, but just for a moment, his attention flickered over to her, and he met her gaze, and he smiled. Then he returned to his conversation.

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “Goodness. I never thought he had it in him.”

“And I never thought I would be such a coward as to walk away from the woman I loved,” came Ernest’s quiet voice. “But I was. And I’m sorry.”

This was more than she could bear. Gwen turned back to the man she loved, prepared to give a long explanation of her impatience to be with him and an even longer apology for not breaking it off with the marquess properly before then, but before she could open her mouth, Ernest had already begun.

“I am sorry, Gwen.” He gave her a wry smile. “I appear to have spent almost all my acquaintance with you apologizing, and I hate that—but you need to know that I am sorry for saying those things to you. For not listening.”

Gwen’s heart twisted. “I… I know that you think me too young.”

“You’re not, Gwen,” Ernest said breathlessly. “You’re poised and intelligent and lovely, and you were perfectly within your rights to accept an engagement that offered you stability—and to end it when it didn’t suit you. It actually speaks of maturity to recognize such a thing, and I was a fool to think otherwise. You have spent your whole life not being listened to by your family. I should never have dismissed you, interrupted you. I should never have—”

“Stormed out of my life, yes,” she said with a breathless laugh. The dark irony of interrupting him after he’d come to realize he should never have done the same to Gwen was something she could not fail to notice. “Poor Mrs. Kinley was a wreck.”

“Poor Lord Ravenshurst,” added Ernest.

“Poor you,” Gwen pointed out, her soul breaking. “You must have felt so betrayed to find out we had done those things before the marquess knew it was over between us. After how things went with your brother.”

“And poor you, dismissed by everyone around her, including me,” Ernest said, shaking his head even as he swallowed. “Especially me that day. My words haunt me. I don’t seem to have covered myself in glory, but I want you to know, Gwen, I can be better.”

Gwen blinked. “‘Better’?”

‘Better’? How could the man be better? He was already so wonderful, respectful to his father, adoring of his brother, honorable to Miss Laura Johnstone, responsible as the new Baron Frasemere, kind to everyone he ever met, and worshipful of her.

Ernest Quintrell, Baron Frasemere, was the sort of man one attempted to dream up but could never find. He was the man who apologized and meant it, a rare trait in anyone.

And Gwen knew in that moment that whatever befall them in the future, as long as he remained all those things—respectful and adoring and honorable and responsible and kind—then she would spend her life a very happy woman, indeed.

That was, if he wanted her anymore.

Uncertainty sparked through Gwen even as hope started to rise. He did want her, didn’t he? Why else would he be here, if not to claim her?

“I want to be better,” Ernest said quietly, stepping toward her and taking her unresisting hands in his. “You deserve the world, Gwen, and I know you don’t want it—”