“Duncan?” Felicity’s heart kicked against her ribs and her stomach rolled, so she focused on the sound of the crunch beneath the heavy boots of the man behind them.
“Yes?”
“Do you want to marry me?”
He threw his head back and laughed merrily for so long, she wondered if she should take offense. “Generally, the proposal is the gentleman’s purview, but I do appreciate a lady with initiative.” He gave a few more chuckles. “You astonish me, Felicity Goode, as I thought you were more of a mouse than that. All right. You’ve talked me into it. I’ll marry you.”
She thought she heard a groan from behind her, which helped not at all.
Pressing her gloves to heated cheeks, she amended, “I wasn’t proposing. I mean— I thought you’d already… that is… I was asking if you desired the match. Or rather, why you desired it. If you do— that is. Desire it.”
He regarded her as if she’d grown horns and a tail.
She began to babble like a brook swelled in spring, overflowing the banks and spilling over. “I’m asking, I suppose, why you want to marry. More specifically, why you’d want to marry me. I do not know what I have to offer you of interest… Do you want children?” Was that it? Was he interested because of her youth?
This time, his laughter was shorter, tinged with a note of uneasiness. “I mean, I’m not opposed to children, if you insist. I’m almost certain I have a brat or two running around.”
She took in a sharp breath. Had he really just admitted that whilst discussing marriage with her?
He stopped in their tracks, turning to her and taking both her gloved hands in his own. “I’m sorry, darling, I’m endlessly wicked. How would you ever stand me?”
She didn’t know that she wanted to.
“Do you think you could love me?” she breathed.
His face softened and he brought the knuckles of each hand in for a kiss. “I already adore you, Felicity, you know that.”
She tightened her grip on his fingers, making his smile disappear. “I mean love me, Duncan? Truly? Affectionately… faithfully?”
He cleared his throat and surreptitiously looked around at the shimmering gaiety of the parading ton. Sincerity didn’t sit on his features with ease, but Felicity was certain this was the first time she was about to hear the truth pass his lips. “Felicity, an arrangement between us would be of mutual fondness and respect. I’d make you a countess, and upon our marriage, your father’s holdings would belong to me. If I’m honest, without them, I’ll be forced to sell off some land to keep up my estates.”
“You want me for the money?” She pulled her hands away.
“I’ll admit that’s part of it. But… due to recent events, I find myself in need of a wife, and I already enjoy you so much, I think we’d suit. You’d be free to live as you like. Take a lover or two. Travel the Continent. Et cetera. But I won’t lie to you and say that I won’t do the same. I know you were raised innocent by your tyrannical father, but it is the way of our class. We could get on, you and I?”
“I…” Felicity couldn’t think of a single word to say.
“I’ve distressed you,” he pouted. “I apologize, my dear.”
The apology sounded genuine, and Felicity found herself swallowing irritation, understanding, gratitude, and a myriad of other confounding emotions. “I merely… need some time to consider things, I suppose.”
“Of course.” He made a gesture of benevolence. “Here. We’ll dance tonight all of once, so no one makes any assumptions about us. I’m not in dire straits, darling, and I’ve plenty of heiresses to pick from should you not think we’ll get on. Either way, we should always remain friends and cousins.” He was all earnest eyes and candid charm.
“Of course. Always. Thank you for your honesty, Duncan. I am very fond of you. I think I shall return home now to prepare for this evening.”
“I look forward to our waltz.” He kissed her hand once more before bowing over it, something dark and melancholy passing over his features.
Suddenly, Felicity wanted to cry.
“Good afternoon.” She turned around and swept back through the park, keeping a firm tamp on her emotion until she was certain no one was watching.
“I’m not going to marry him,” she stated rigidly to her giant, silent shadow.
“Good,” came the clipped reply.
“I cannot be the only one of my sisters without fidelity. I am not built for that. I’d be miserable.”
“Bainbridge surprised me,” he remarked, surprising her in turn. “Not many men are so frank. Which makes me think he is either a good man, or he has a secret deeper than his apparent wickedness to hide. Something ruinous. Something lethal even.”
“Do you think so?”
“I’d bet my fortune on it.”
That gave her something to wonder over until the dreaded ball. “Well… Let’s do go home, Gareth, I need to bathe and—”
The man beside her tripped on absolutely nothing. With impressive reflexes and an extra step, he was able to prevent a fall or even much of a spectacle.
“Bloody rocks,” he muttered.
She said nothing, not wishing to embarrass him. Though her conversation with Bainbridge was troubling, she felt a bit lighter than before. How fortunate she was that Gareth had been here today, prompting her to ask the correct questions.
What a boon to have a forthright and honest man at her side. Looking out for her. Listening to her troubles. Offering support and wisdom. Giving her the confidence to act on her own.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have that always?
Chapter 6
Gabriel had assumed that once he was rid of his mask, he’d never wish to lay eyes upon it again.
It troubled him how much he wanted it now.
Even dressed in an impeccable evening suit, he could never hope to blend in.
Which meant he stood out, especially amongst the ton.
It was known he was
