Cyril smiled, looking down at her. He knew it would make the statement he had hoped to make. She had asked if he was in the habit of throwing away what was perfect for him and he had decided to do so no longer.

He pulled the letter from his pocket. Annabelle recognized it immediately. "I have lied to you, Lady Annabelle. I have read this letter. I have done so, so often that every word has been burned into my mind. I could recite it to you from heart. And every sentiment in it is nothing less than you deserve.

"Mr. Kane... I"

"Please, let me finish. Time is not on my side and I must say this before it is too late."

Annabelle stopped and waited, though it took every fiber of her being to do so.

"The man who wrote you this letter loved you. Of that, there is little doubt but I am the man who is here now and I love you. I would even dare to say, I love you more than this man ever could."

"So, although I had no time to write it, here is MY letter to you, my Angel.

Gently, softly you've entered into the shadows of my heart

and banished the darkness that dwelled within me.

Using only True Love as your weapon to set my soul a blaze

with a passion, a desire, unlike anything I have ever known.

To say I want you is to state the obvious.

To say I need you, I long for you, for us to be as one,

as one soul pure of heart should be,

is to say I love you more than life.

I lay awake at night staring at the stars.

I feel as though I can almost touch their radiant light

as it beams down on me giving me comfort

when I am alone without you.

When the stars seem to change their shape,

to a new unearthly form.

To a pair of eyes as deep as the sea, as brilliant as the stars

and a smile as warm as the sun.

I reach to touch what seems to be a playful angel

sent to me by God.

When I realize that in truth,

I am reaching out for you.

You are my heart's desire,

You are what my soul needs.

Please accept me as I am

For you are my love's counterpart.

"Oh," Annabelle said, on a hushed whisper. "Cyril, you must know before another moment passes..."

"WHAT is the meaning of this?!" Lady Cantrell said, storming up to them in a blind rage.

"Aunt Augusta! Please? Let me explain," Annabelle pleaded; she had seen Sir Lawrence standing guard by the door, looking apologetic.

Her Aunt snatched the letter from Cyril's hand and torn it open. Both Annabelle and Cyril looked horrified as her eyes quickly darted over the page. A strange expression had crossed her Aunt's features and Cyril had but seconds to reach out and catch her as she fainted dead away.

"Aunt Augusta!" Annabelle cried, trying to revive the woman but she was not responsive.

Sir Lawrence came forward. "Is there another way into the building?"

"Yes," Annabelle said, "Follow me." Cyril had Lady Cantrell in his arms and the three made there way to servant's entrance.

Ms. Pratt who had seen them enter became immediately alarmed.

"She's fainted!" Annabelle said, "Please, send someone to fetch a doctor and bring me some smelling salts."

Ms. Pratt set others to the tasks and led the three of them up the backstairs to Lady Cantrell's bedchambers. Cyril laid her gingerly on her bed.

Annabelle smoothed out her Aunt's dress. She continued to fuss over her, as tears stung her eyes. "Please be alright. You just have to. Please, Aunt Augusta," Annabelle pleaded.

Both men stood by feeling powerless. There was a knock on the door and a maid entered handing Ms. Pratt the salts. She thanked the girl and sent her back out of the room telling her to bring the doctor as soon as he arrives. The maid left and Ms. Pratt handed the salts to Annabelle.

Annabelle opened the bottle, placed a hand under her Aunt's head and waved it under her nose. The smell of ammonia filled the air and her Aunt sputtered as her eyes flew open.

"Annabelle?" she looked disoriented for a moment. She took in her surroundings. "What..." and then she felt the paper that was still clutched in her hand.

"Annabelle you must return to the ball. You must continue the evening. You may inform them that I have suddenly taken ill but you must attend to your guests."

"I care nothing of them, Aunt Augusta. I am not leaving your side!"

Aunt Augusta tried to sit up and Annabelle held her down. "No, you must rest."

Lady Cantrell ignored her niece and sat up on the edge of the bed. Another knock on the door brought the Doctor to her side. He asked her a few questions and checked her vitals but he did not, in his opinion, see anything wrong.

Lady Cantrell said, "Of course there isn't! You may send me the bill for your services Doctor but I will not be needing further treatment."

The doctor nodded and left.

"Mr. Kane?"

Cyril came forward. "Sir Lawrence will escort me back to the ball and will remain by my side until the our guests have left us. You are to escort my niece back to the ball but you are not to leave as I have some questions for you."

"Yes, Lady Cantrell."

"Sir Lawrence, I hope you do not mind this imposition but as you and my niece have already danced twice and you both have disappeared from the ballroom for quite some time. I would like Annabelle to return with Mr. Kane so as to quell the possible gossips."

"As you wish, Lady Cantrell," Sir Lawrence said, taking her arm and helping her to stand.

"And what of me, Aunt? What would you have me do?"

"Enjoy the rest of your time. We will talk when the time is right."

Now that the plan was made, they all took their proper places. The tongues had indeed begun to wag but as Sir Lawrence came back with Lady Cantrell and not Lady Bentley the discussion became less of impropriety and more of curiosity if Sir Lawrence had made a proposal to Lady Cantrell for Lady Bentley's hand.

Since Cyril already had hold of Annabelle he asked shyly, "May I have this dance?"

Annabelle who still felt shaken by the events, and even more nervous by Mr. Kane's request said, "Of, course."

They stepped out onto the dance floor and the moment their hands had touched, though she wore gloves, time stood still and all their problems had melted away. It mattered not the number of couples dancing. They had eyes only for one another. The perfection with which they danced, the perfect unison in which they moved did not go unnoticed. They made quite a remarkable pair.

Cyril got to dance with her one more time. The last dance of the evening and as the guests said their good-byes and the staff cleaned up. Cyril waited in the drawing room for Annabelle and Lady Cantrell to join him.

Lady Cantrell opened the doors. It was quite late and everyone in the room was both physically and emotionally spent. Still she must have the matter settled tonight, her mind raced with questions.

"Have a seat, Mr. Kane," Lady Cantrell said, as he had stood the moment they had entered.

He did not argue, sat upon the settee and waited.

"Annabelle, you also," Lady Cantrell motioned for her niece to be seated next to Mr. Kane and Annabelle took her spot next to him. Mr. Kane wanted to reach out and take her hand to reassure her but declined until he knew what the conversation held in store.

"This letter," Lady Cantrell began...

"I did not write it," Cyril said.

"I do not know who wrote it," Annabelle said.

Their confessions came in unison. Obviously, Annabelle's statement had shocked Cyril who turned and stared at her. "You do not know who wrote it?"

"No, I tried telling you. On more than one occasion but..."

"I do," Lady Cantrell said, stunning them both.

"I know you did not write this letter Mr. Kane. Just as I know Annabelle is telling you the truth about its origins. There is no possible way she could know who wrote it because it was not written to her."

"But.." Annabelle was about to interrupt knowing it was found among her other letters, it had to be from someone who knew her. However, her Aunt stayed her words with a raised hand.

"I know this, because the letter was written to me."

Of all the confessions made this evening this was by far the most amazing.

"But I found it among my letters from suitors at home, at Bentley Manor... how could it be written to you?" Annabelle inquired.

Lady Cantrell who had been standing suddenly felt the need to be seated and took a seat across from them. It took her a moment to gain her composure. She never thought she would see the letter or the words written to her ever again.

"I can not say how it happen to get into your possession, Annabelle but I assure you it was written to me. It was a letter written by your Father the night he proposed, asking for my hand in marriage."

"My Father!"

"Yes. I was very much in love with Lord Charles Bentley. I happened to meet him at a dinner party that Mr. Harris held. They were very close friends. Both of them fought for my hand but my mother did not wish me to marry either of them. Mr. Harris had stepped aside, putting his feelings upon a shelf for he knew I favored Charles.

Charles came to London looking for a wife, for his own had died, leaving him and your brother Richard without someone to care for them. And oh, how cared them. I cared for them both, but it was decided that I should marry your Uncle, for he was a member of the Ton, had a grander title and vast fortune.

When I was forced to turn him down, my mother suggested he marry Catherine. He was not in love with her but her found her amicable enough and though it was torture, he knew it would keep me close, as every special event would see us together again."

Cyril reached over and grabbed Annabelle's hand knowing she needed the encouragement, and she was most grateful for it.

"When Charles passed. I came to stay with you, during the mourning period. I knew my sister would be useless taking care of you girls. Richard was already in the Royal Navy. That was the last time I had seen the letter. I had always kept it with me. When I returned home, I discovered it was missing and I mourned both your Father and its loss. Somehow it survived. Somehow it made its way back to me," Lady Augusta said clutching the letter to her.

Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Annabelle went to her, knelt before her and wrapped her arms around the woman who was more of a mother to her than her own had ever been. "I'm so sorry." It did not seem quite the right words to say but Annabelle was at a complete loss.

"I'm not, for if Charles did not marry my sister, I would have never had you or Clara or Richard in my life. I was a great disappointment to my husband, as it was discovered that I am unable to bear children and you all have been a great source of joy to me."

"Oh, Aunt Augusta!"

Lady Cantrell wiped the tears from her niece's cheeks. "No more of these."

"May I ask something?" Cyril asked, not wanting to interrupt but needing to know the verdict all the same.

Lady Cantrell looked up at him.

"I have asked for Lady Annabelle's hand in marriage."

This caused Annabelle's head to shoot up and she turned to stare at him in awe.

"You had turned me away."

Annabelle could not believe it to be true.

"Every word of that letter is exactly how I feel for your niece. I love her. I wish nothing but to cherish her for as long as we both shall live. Will you, Lady Cantrell possibly reconsider my offer? Will you allow me to marry your niece?"

Annabelle looked from one to the other. She rose from the floor and stood tall. "She does not speak for me."

Lady Cantrell smiled.

"I am in love with you Mr. Cyril Kane. I believe my father led me to you. He knew just the man who would fit my ideal of the perfect husband, and I could not possible pick a more perfect match, if it were tailor made for me."

Cyril heart leapt at her words. He stood and quickly closed the expanse between them. He took her hands in his. His look down right devilish as he teased, "We are still talking about me are we not?"

Annabelle giggled. "Yes, and I accept your offer, Mr. Kane."

"May I?" he asked Lady Cantrell, who looked upon the couple quite content.

"I so wish you would," Lady Cantrell said.

And Cyril grabbed hold of Annabelle and sealed their proposal with a kiss.

Lady Cantrell laughed holding the letter close to her heart, and sending a silent prayer to the heavens, "Thank you, Charles. Thank you for everything."