Let me send the fellow on his way.' 'He is not /the fellow/, Stephen,' she said, getting to her feet. 'He is the Earl of Sheringford. And I will speak with him myself.' 'Bravo, Meg,' Jasper said. 'Oh, Meg,' Vanessa said, hurrying toward her to hug her, 'you are always so noble. But I am just afraid that you will see him to apologize to him and end up betrothing yourself to him.' 'Trust me,' Margaret said as they all got up.
Trust her to do /what/, though?
Would she really be seeing Lord Sheringford only to express her regrets over the consequences of her impulsive words last evening? Which he had urged upon her, by the way.
Or would she be seeing him because she wanted to bring his face into focus again?
Or because she was fascinated by her memories of him?
Or because she was thirty years old and had just come face to face with a faithless lover from her past and with the fiancГ©e of the man she had expected to marry herself this year?
Or because she had just been called righteous and the soul of propriety and a woman of spotless virtue? 'Oh, we /do/ trust you, Meg,' Katherine said, hugging her after Vanessa had stepped back. 'Of course we do.' Yes, of course they did. She had always been eminently trustworthy and dependable and predictable, had she not?
And dull.
7
ALMOST precisely fifty hours after his grandfather had issued his ultimatum, Duncan was standing alone in the library at Merton House, staring out through the window, waiting to make a formal marriage offer to Miss Margaret Huxtable.
It was all disorienting, to say the least. Good Lord, he did not know the woman at all. She did not know /him/. He could scarcely even remember what she looked like. He remembered well enough what she had /felt/ like, pressed against his body, but the more he tried to bring her face into focus in his mind, the more he saw a blank surrounded by dark hair. He could remember only that he had thought her beautiful.
Which was /some/ consolation, he supposed.
It had been something of a relief to find Merton alone in the library when he had been admitted more than half an hour ago. He had fully expected Moreland to be there too – and the duke was a formidable figure of a man. He had Greek blood in him, and it showed.
But Merton was no soft touch either, young as he was. Duncan would guess his age to be no more than twenty-two or three. He had made no bones about the fact that that he disliked and despised Duncan and opposed any match with his sister. He had offered a more than generous dowry with her but had insisted that every penny of it be put at her disposal and that of any children of the marriage. He had probed meticulously into Duncan's present means and future prospects and had declared that he would call upon the Marquess of Claverbrook to confirm what he had heard – since he did not trust the word of a known villain.
It had taken all of Duncan's self-control to stop himself from stalking out of the room and out of the house. It could not be done. He had made Miss Huxtable an offer of sorts last evening, the morning paper had made much of it this morning, and honor dictated that the offer be made official today. If she refused him, so be it. He would resume the hunt with thirteen days to spare.
He had taken a huge bouquet of flowers, he remembered, when he had called to propose marriage to Caroline Turner. A footman had whisked it away at the door and he had not seen it again. He had been welcomed with smiles and bows and a hearty handshake by her father. He had gone down on one knee when alone with Caroline and delivered a rehearsed speech that was more floral than the vanished bouquet. He had covered the back of her hand with kisses when she had said yes and called himself the happiest of men. He had assured her that he loved her and would until he drew his final breath – and beyond that through all eternity. And he had meant every word, God help him.
He had come empty-handed today, and there was no rehearsed speech rattling around in his brain. And no ardor accelerating his heartbeat.
The door opened behind him and closed again even as he turned. He was relieved to recognize her, though she looked somewhat different. She was dressed in dark blue today. Her hair was styled more simply and looked thicker and glossier. Candlelight had not unduly flattered her. She must be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Not to mention voluptuous – he had not exaggerated /that/ fact in his memory.
She also looked calm and self-possessed. And … intelligent. Her eyes looked him over steadily and unhurriedly. Perhaps, like him, she had been afraid that she might not even recognize him today.
He bowed formally. She did not curtsy in return. She inclined her head instead. 'Miss Huxtable,' he said. 'Lord Sheringford.' 'I do apologize,' he said, 'for the very public reaction to our encounter last evening.' 'On the contrary,' she said, 'it is I who must apologize to you, my lord. If I had been looking where I was going, I would not have run into you. And if I had not told Major Dew in the park the day before yesterday that I was betrothed and then been embarrassed last evening to discover that the Marquess of Allingham was already engaged to marry someone else, I would not have presented /you/ as my betrothed. It was all very foolish and very out of character for me. But that latter fact is beside the point. I have caused you embarrassment and I am sorry.' He had been surprised last evening by her candor. He was surprised again today. He had expected that she would heap blame upon him. 'There will be no further embarrassment for either of us,' he said, 'when a formal announcement of our engagement appears in tomorrow's papers.' She moved farther into the room and seated herself on a chair by the fireplace. She indicated one on the other side. 'Do sit down,' she said. 'You are under no moral obligation whatsoever to offer for me today, you know. It would be absurd for either of us to feel forced into marrying by a little idle gossip. We have done nothing wrong or even indiscreet. We danced and talked in a crowded ballroom, as did everyone else who was there. Both activities are the very point of a ball. There really has been nothing resembling scandal, has there?
Gossip is simply that – empty talk that is quickly replaced by some other.
Everyone will forget within a week.' 'But Miss Huxtable – ' She held up a hand to stop him from continuing. 'However,' she said, 'I do remember your telling me that your need to marry without delay is a rather desperate one. It is this fact, I suppose, that has brought you here this afternoon.' 'I hope,' he said, 'I would have come anyway.' 'I would have had Stephen assure you that your gallantry was appreciated but quite unnecessary,' she said. 'I would have had him send you on your way to freedom with my thanks. But freedom is not what you will face if I send you away, is it?' 'There is always freedom,' he said, 'unless, I suppose, one is actually incarcerated. I could seek employment.' 'But you would prefer to marry,' she said. 'Why is that?' She was actually /interviewing/ him. This encounter was not proceeding at all as he had expected. 'I suppose,' he said, 'because I would prefer to live the life of a landed gentleman to which I am accustomed.' 'Poverty is not a pleasant thing,' she said. 'We were always poor until Stephen inherited the earldom. We were not unhappy. Indeed, we were often very happy indeed. But we had never known wealth or the security of a large home and farms and a sizable income. Now that we /do/ know it, I do not doubt we would find it extremely difficult to go back. You have never known poverty, I suppose. Are you afraid of it?' He leaned back in his chair and cocked one eyebrow. 'I am not really afraid of anything, Miss Huxtable,' he said.
There was indeed very little left to fear. The worst had happened to him already. And somehow he would manage no matter what happened – or did not happen – during the next two weeks. All sorts of little boys, after all, were raised quite adequately by men who had to work for a living. 'You would be a foolish man if that were the truth,' she said. 'But I do not believe it is. I believe you are simply a liar. You are in good company, however. Men will admit to almost any shortcoming before they will admit to feeling fear. It is considered weak and unmanly.' 'Miss Huxtable,' he said, 'I have Woodbine Park in Warwickshire to offer you if you marry me. It is a sizable home in spacious, well-kept grounds. And its income, though no vast fortune, is more than comfortable. I have future prospects of far greater splendor. I am the Marquess of Claverbrook's heir, and he has properties dotted all over England. He is vastly wealthy.' 'And is this /all/ you have to offer, Lord Sheringford?' she asked after regarding him in silence for several moments.
He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. What else /was/ there? She was not imagining, was she, that he had fallen violently in love with her last evening and had his heart to lay at her feet? 'I cannot offer an
