His wife made her debut with the London Symphony Orchestra at the Royal Albert Hall at a charity concert celebrating the music of Ludwig van Beethoven on the evening of their fifth wedding anniversary.

Which is how he found himself all trussed up in a tuxedo ensconced in a box next to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge with his parents, brother, and almost four year old daughter. All of his plans for a ridiculously romantic getaway went straight out the window when Demelza received the invitation to perform the piano interlude of the evening.

He thought she'd never looked more beautiful than she did when she walked out onto the stage wearing a simple black sleeveless Dior sheath evening dress and her unruly copper red curls done up in an elegant bun. She'd worn the Venetian ruby and pearl broach he'd gifted her with that morning on thin black ribbon tied around her slender neck. It was hardly noticeable that she was near on six months forward with their second child.

It had been long since he handed Julia off to his parents to be put to bed back at the hotel. The after party was still going strong despite the very late or very early hour depending on one's view. Ross was content to remain on the periphery and allow his wife to be the center of attention. It was after all her night and she'd more than earned the adulations.

"I was beginning to wonder if you remembered that you've a husband," he teased when she finally was able to disentangle herself from her throng of admirers and sought refuge in his arms, laying her head against his chest and closing her eyes.

"Oh, Ross," she laughed. "You're very hard to forget."

"I mean, if you want to run away with Sir Hugh Bodrugan, I'm sure we could come to terms."

"I did nothing to encourage him!"

"Or John Treneglos, although his wife might have something to say on that front."

Demelza snorted with heartfelt derision. "As if Ruth wouldn't throw him over in a second if she thought she could get her claws into you."

"She stands no chance." He had been fending off that woman's advances ever since he'd mistakenly taken pity on her at a dance years ago. His marriage to Demelza had not been a deterrent to Ruth's ambitions in his direction. Her husband had made little secret of his admiration of Demelza and had once gone as far as to make the suggestion of swapping wives for the evening. The offer had been flatly refused using every ounce of restraint Ross had.

"That's good to know."

He tipped her chin up to assess how she was holding up with dark shadows under her clear blue eyes telling the story. It'd been a long day. "You look tired, my love."

"I am," she assured him. "I can sleep later. The night's too brilliant to give up just yet."

"You're not leaving my side again tonight."

And she didn't leave him much to her would be suitors' chagrin.

"Tell me, Ross, how did I do? I didn't embarrass you did I?" she asked later as sunlight was just starting to streak the skies over London in pinks and purples. They were curled up together on a lounge chair out on the balcony as the city started to come awake around them.

"You were amazing," he answered honestly. "Wonderful. Lovely. Perfect."

"I was that worried I'd show you up."

He brushed a kiss against her forehead. "Never."

Someday she would stop worrying about what other people thought of her, of them, the heir to a mining dynasty and his village wife. It would take a little courage on her part, but he could see it in her now that they were venturing out in the world more after several years of quiet living in Cambridge. Tonight had been a grand entrance for her into society and she slayed them all as he knew she would.

"There is just one thing I want to know."

"Tell me!"

"I just want to know if you're happy?" he asked.

"I'm that happy, Ross," she said softly, yawning. "That happy. Now take me to bed."