Horrified, he’d said. That was the right word for her reaction, and yet it wasn’t the truth. She hadn’t been able to fathom it because…because…
She sighed. “I was raised to marry well.”
He stayed silent beside her.
She peeked over at him with a smile she feared was bitter. “I was supposed to be a boy, you know.”
He arched his brows. “Oh yes?”
She let out a huff of amusement at his tone. “I was a disappointment because not only did I kill my mother in childbirth, but I had the gall to be a girl as well.”
He winced slightly, no doubt at the acidity in her tone. But it could not be helped. This man had been honest with her and had saved her at every turn. He deserved the unfettered truth.
“All I was ever meant to do was marry well. It was all I was good for in my father’s eyes. I thought if I could at least do that than maybe…”
He’d love me. He’d think me worthy.
It was too depressing to say any of those aloud, but she assumed he understood without her spelling it out.
He squeezed her hand tightly and she let out a long exhale. “But I am beginning to see that perhaps his good opinion is not worth much. Not really. After all, why should he think well of me when I do not think well of him?”
He shifted, flipping her hand so he could hold it properly.
Well, improperly, as the case may be.
“Delilah, it is only natural to want to please your parents. To live up to their hopes and expectations.”
She nodded. “I suppose you are right. But still…” She met his gaze. “I am sorry for the way I behaved when you offered to save me.”
“Don’t be,” he said softly. “I completely understand.” He paused. “I would have been horrified at the thought of marrying me, too.”
A short laugh was shocked out of her at that and when she looked up and met those warm brown eyes that now twinkled with laughter, she felt a lightness steal over her and she laughed some more, him joining in this time.
For the first time in a long time, she felt…happy.
Which was ridiculous given the circumstances, but there it was. Sitting here, alone with this man, who seemed to understand her and perhaps even like her despite all her many flaws—or maybe because of them…
She felt at home. She felt welcome.
She felt…loved.
The thought had her chest constricting, her lungs emptying of air as the room seemed to shift around her.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. No, this heady, dizzy sensation was almost...pleasant. She supposed it was how one felt when one imbibed too much sherry.
She felt positively intoxicated by the warmth that flooded her in his presence.
“I was wrong, though, when I said I could not marry you.” She said it as lightly as she could manage once her heart resumed a normal beat. “It would be a privilege to be your wife.”
His gaze intensified so quickly it made her heart race all over again and the air between them grew heavy and hot with anticipation.
Heat flooded her cheeks as her own words hit her. Heavens, how very forward of her. He must have thought… What if he believed she was saying…
Her voice came out too loud. “What I meant to say was that any woman would be honored—”
He cut off her words with a kiss. He’d moved so quickly she had not seen it coming, tugging her arm lightly so she tumbled toward him, her free hand catching herself against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer so she was nestled against his side.
His kiss was heaven, all warmth and affection, passion and tenderness, as his lips crushed hers with a force that made her heart thud painfully in response.
He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against hers as they both breathed heavily. “Delilah, I—” He pulled back to look at her and wariness stole over his gaze.
“Yes?”
His chest rose and fell beneath her hands. “There is something I really ought to tell you…”
Nervous anticipation had her muscles contracting as if she could physically brace herself for whatever blow that was to come.
It would be a blow. His normally laid-back expression was replaced by a wariness that was unnerving. All amusement was gone from his eyes.
“Rupert, whatever it is, you can tell me,” she said quietly.
He gave her a rueful little smile. “Delilah, I am…”
A bastard.
A merchant.
A pauper who inherited a lovely home.
“I am the second son of a marquess,” he said on one long breath.
She blinked. “Pardon?”
Amusement once more crept into his gaze. “The Marquess of Markland,” he said. “He is my father.”
“What?” She pushed away from him. “But why…? How…?” Shock had her so flustered she could not even form a question.
His low laugh made her insides quiver and then she was back in his arms.
“Right,” he said, satisfaction written all over his face. “Now that we’ve got that sorted…”
His kiss killed any questions she might have asked, and though she had questions that would be answered, for now…she was more than happy to let him kiss her instead.
13
“You mean, you did not know that he was a marquess’s son?” Prudence asked. Her features were the picture of disbelief.
“You really had no idea?” Addie was laughing. Her little brother Reggie was laughing too though Delilah assumed he was not laughing at her.
She narrowed her eyes at the toddler. He’d better not be.
Her scowl made him giggle that much more.
Louisa was off with her family, or maybe her fiancé, since they rarely seemed to be parted these days. Good thing. Louisa would have been laughing so hard Delilah might have had to smack her.
She huffed. “You could have told me,” she said to Addie.
Addie shrugged. “I didn’t realize you did not know.”
Prudence gave a little sigh of exasperation. “I suppose this means you like him now?”
Heat flooded Delilah’s cheeks too quickly for her to hide
