The blush bloomed again, but she considered his words in silence for a few moments. Then, “And your offer of marriage is only because of the scandal?”
“Yes. I thought I made that clear at the beginning.” Final illusions crushed. He felt like a brute, but it had to be done for her own good. “So, Lady Lily Rutherford, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She was quiet for a few minutes, then looked up. “If I do marry you, will you promise not to lie to me?”
He hesitated a moment but could see no harm in that. He might be less than she deserved, but he intended to do right by her. “I promise.”
“And will you be a faithful husband?” When he did not immediately answer, she added quietly, “It is a consideration when one is marrying a rake, you see. Given such things as house parties.”
“And if I say no, that I intend to continue my rakish ways?”
“Then I would have to refuse your very kind offer.”
“Even though you’d be ruined in the eyes of the world?”
She nodded. She seemed quite certain, quite unruffled by the prospect. She was either courageous or naïve. He decided on the latter. She had no idea of what she might be facing.
He gave her a frustrated look. “Very well then, I promise you that once we are married I will be faithful to you and only you.” It was not a hard thing to promise. Any man lucky enough to have Lily Rutherford in his bed would be a fool to stray.
She eyed him thoughtfully and the crease between her brows deepened.
“What are you thinking?” he asked after the silence had stretched to an unbearable point.
“I’m thinking you might come to regret that promise—both of them,” she admitted.
He shrugged. “What’s life without regrets?”
She considered that a moment, then shook her head briskly. “No, I was wrong to ask you. I give you back both your promises.”
Was that a refusal? “But—”
“Honesty and fidelity cannot be forced. Unless they are freely given they have no value. Society, my aunt Agatha and my brother might have forced your hand to this marriage, but it’s up to us to make it work.”
He frowned. “You mean we should go into it without expectations?” It was exactly what he’d wanted from her; if she expected nothing of him, he couldn’t disappoint her. So why did the prospect now make him feel so unsettled?
“It’s not exactly how I’d put it, but yes, if you will accept that I will do my best to be a good wife to you and you will—” She waited, giving him an expectant look.
“Try to be a good husband.” And try not to disappoint her too much.
“Then God bless us both.”
God help us, Ned thought. And then he realized the implications of what she’d said. “Does that mean—?”
“Yes, Mr. Galbraith, I will marry you.”
• • •
Leaving Edward and Cal to discuss settlements, Lily walked slowly upstairs, dawdling in order to put off the moment when she would have to tell Rose and Emm and George that she’d accepted him. Against all their advice. And wishes.
She was betrothed to Mr. Galbraith—to Edward. She should have been in alt, or over the moon, or any one of the usual states newly betrothed girls were supposed to feel. Instead she felt . . . She didn’t know what she felt.
It had been a very businesslike proposal. He hadn’t even kissed her. Perhaps that was why she felt a little flat. She had to admit she’d been expecting a kiss, at least. And looking forward to it.
Why had he tried so hard to paint himself in such an unfavorable light? Was he trying to put her off, or was he simply trying to be honest with her? It was impossible to know.
He’d admitted that his reason for proposing was the scandal—well, that was no surprise. Before Lily had gone in to receive his offer, Emm had told her that she’d tried to talk Mr. Galbraith out of proposing, just as she’d tried to convince Lily not to marry him.
But he’d chosen to propose. And Lily had chosen to accept.
Was it only his sense of honor that had prompted him to offer marriage to her? Or did he have some other reason, one he hadn’t mentioned?
Lily had. She hadn’t admitted it to anyone except Rose yet: She wanted Edward Galbraith. More than wanted, she loved him.
At least she thought she did. Rose said it wasn’t love, that she was confusing love with the gratitude she felt for her rescuer, and Lily did feel grateful. But when Edward had kissed her in the dark woods and held her in his arms, it wasn’t gratitude she felt.
When she’d told Rose and George about the kiss, Rose’s view was that Lily was too inexperienced to tell. Galbraith was a rake; it stood to reason he would know how to kiss. What Lily needed, Rose said, was to be kissed by a lot of other men. Then she’d know what value to put on Mr. Galbraith’s kisses.
Except Lily didn’t want to kiss a lot of other men. She only wanted one man to kiss—Edward.
George had said that Lily didn’t need to kiss anyone else, that any man who shared his kisses around like Mr. Galbraith was reputed to do wasn’t worth having.
There was sense in their opinions, both of them. But Lily wanted Edward with a desperate yearning. She thought of him constantly, and even dreamed of him. Was that love? She didn’t know.
Emm had suggested Lily was perhaps a little infatuated—which was understandable given the dreadful situation he’d rescued her from. It was also understandable, Emm said, that she was attracted to him; he was an attractive man and could be quite charming—when
