Henry and Charlotte finally tell each other they married for love, CLOCKWORK PRINCE (The Infernal Devices #2) by Cassandra Clare
Granted, there are plenty of romantic moments in The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare with the three main characters. However, this one is just so endearing as well as tear-jerking and humorous that it had to be included on this list.
In the second book of the trilogy, the group encounter more and more challenges, including trying to find a way for Charlotte to keep her position as head of the London Institute. In this scene Charlotte and Henry have a heart to heart about their relationship, and finally find out the truth about why they married each other. And it’s not as platonically-arranged as they thought it was.
“You are not plain,” Henry said, his face still blazing. “You are beautiful. And I didn’t ask your father if I could marry you out of duty; I did it because I loved you. I’ve always loved you. I’m your husband.”
“I didn’t think you wanted to be,” she whispered.
Henry was shaking his head. “I know people call me eccentric. Peculiar. Even mad. All of those things. I’ve never minded. But for you to think I’d be so weak-willed—Do you even love me at all?”
“Of course I love you!” Charlotte cried. “That was never in question.”
“Wasn’t it? Do you think I don’t hear what people say? They speak about me as if I weren’t there, as if I were some sort of half-wit. I’ve heard Benedict Lightwood say enough times that you married me only so that you could pretend a man was running the Institute—”
Now it was Charlotte’s turn to be angry. “And you criticize me for thinking you weak-willed! Henry, I’d never marry you for that reason, never in a thousand years. I’d give up the Institute in a moment before I’d give up …”
Henry was staring at her, his hazel eyes wide, his ginger hair bristling as if he had run his hands madly through it so many times that he was in danger of pulling it out in chunks. “Before you’d give up what?”
“Before I’d give you up,” she said. “Don’t you know that?”
And then she said nothing else, for Henry put his arms around her and kissed her. Kissed her in such a way that she no longer felt plain, or conscious of her hair or the ink spot on her dress or anything but Henry, whom she had always loved. Tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks, and when he drew away, he touched her wet face wonderingly.
“Really,” he said. “You love me, too, Lottie?”