would do me the great honour, and you, you minx, will reply that the honour and pleasure are all yours.”
“Yes, my lord,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Unless, of course, you’ve reconsidered and wish to marry me now,” he teased. “Then if we didn’t suit, I could always find a war somewhere.”
“That is not funny, Leigh.” Nor was the idea of marrying a man—albeit he was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a husband—who offered simply to save her reputation.
He touched her suddenly serious mouth with one finger. “No, sweetheart, it isn’t funny. Besides, it would just give the scandal brewers more broth if we married now, as if we were rushing to consecrate the union before the confinement. So shall we agree on our ‘gentlemen’s agreement’?”
Jacelyn knew she’d gone too far this time, abducting a gentleman, and she knew how upset her father was. She also knew how her heart yearned for her to say yes, because her body knew he would kiss her, to seal the bargain. How she wished to be held in his arms again! For once, however, possibly because her last calamity was so recent, Miss Trevaine was determined to think before she acted. Her father would be pleased to see her reputation intact, and Squire of course would be delighted to see her gone, even if just for the fall hunt season. And there was an undeniable, unnameable something within her that was dancing right now, at the thought of even those few months with this man. But what about Leigh?
If he didn’t see to her name, his own reputation would be tarnished, yet from what Squire’d told her father, a rake did not worry overmuch about honour or what others thought. So why should this hero, this Nonesuch, wish to be saddled with a ragmannered brat like herself? Self-confidence? Jacelyn didn’t even have enough self-awareness to think for a moment that his lordship could find her attractive. So, “Why, my lord? Why would you do all this for me?” she asked.
Now it was Leigh’s turn for self-doubts. Would she believe him that it was because he found her adorable? That it was the only way he could think of not to frighten her or put her back up like an angry kitten’s? Would she laugh if he proposed love-in-a-cottage to her, all he had to offer? He picked one of Baron’s grey hairs from his jacket’s sleeve, not looking at her face, at the hurt he might see there. “There is the money, you know,” he drawled.
“Oh, that’s all right, then.” Jacelyn was surprisingly content. This made sense, and satisfied her own sense of honour. After all, the whole escapade was entirely her fault—except for the kiss she tried not to remember—so why should the earl have to suffer? It was only fair he gain something in exchange for his freedom. Besides, the story Bottwick had told of Leigh’s struggles to bring his estates back from ruin had touched her with the same instinct that made her heart go out to motherless kittens. If her dowry could ease his way, it should be his, unless…
“Leigh, you didn’t kiss me to ensure I’d be compromised, did you?”
He raised one thick golden eyebrow. “Do you mean did I know Squire and his house party were coming, or do you mean did I know you were wealthy? The former was obvious, I suppose, that sooner or later someone would come after you. As for the latter, an easy deduction. Any fool could recognise you for an heiress by your elegant dress, your fine manners, the table you set. On the other hand, perhaps I just kiss every pretty girl who holds me at pistol-point. You’ll never know.” He raised one of her hands to his mouth and gently kissed the palm. “Poppet, you’ll just have to trust me. You’ll hear many stories about me—some of them will be true—but I swear I won’t do anything to shame you, or cause you upset. Do you believe that?” At her nod he softly kissed each finger before saying, “Good, because if this doesn’t look like a love match, we’ll never pull it off.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied with a chuckle.
“Unless, of course, you’ve reconsidered and wish to marry me now,” he teased. “Then if we didn’t suit, I could always find a war somewhere.”
“That is not funny, Leigh.” Nor was the idea of marrying a man—albeit he was everything she’d ever dreamed of in a husband—who offered simply to save her reputation.
He touched her suddenly serious mouth with one finger. “No, sweetheart, it isn’t funny. Besides, it would just give the scandal brewers more broth if we married now, as if we were rushing to consecrate the union before the confinement. So shall we agree on our ‘gentlemen’s agreement’?”
Jacelyn knew she’d gone too far this time, abducting a gentleman, and she knew how upset her father was. She also knew how her heart yearned for her to say yes, because her body knew he would kiss her, to seal the bargain. How she wished to be held in his arms again! For once, however, possibly because her last calamity was so recent, Miss Trevaine was determined to think before she acted. Her father would be pleased to see her reputation intact, and Squire of course would be delighted to see her gone, even if just for the fall hunt season. And there was an undeniable, unnameable something within her that was dancing right now, at the thought of even those few months with this man. But what about Leigh?
If he didn’t see to her name, his own reputation would be tarnished, yet from what Squire’d told her father, a rake did not worry overmuch about honour or what others thought. So why should this hero, this Nonesuch, wish to be saddled with a ragmannered brat like herself? Self-confidence? Jacelyn didn’t even have enough self-awareness to think for a moment that his lordship could find her attractive. So, “Why, my lord? Why would you do all this for me?” she asked.
Now it was Leigh’s turn for self-doubts. Would she believe him that it was because he found her adorable? That it was the only way he could think of not to frighten her or put her back up like an angry kitten’s? Would she laugh if he proposed love-in-a-cottage to her, all he had to offer? He picked one of Baron’s grey hairs from his jacket’s sleeve, not looking at her face, at the hurt he might see there. “There is the money, you know,” he drawled.
“Oh, that’s all right, then.” Jacelyn was surprisingly content. This made sense, and satisfied her own sense of honour. After all, the whole escapade was entirely her fault—except for the kiss she tried not to remember—so why should the earl have to suffer? It was only fair he gain something in exchange for his freedom. Besides, the story Bottwick had told of Leigh’s struggles to bring his estates back from ruin had touched her with the same instinct that made her heart go out to motherless kittens. If her dowry could ease his way, it should be his, unless…
“Leigh, you didn’t kiss me to ensure I’d be compromised, did you?”
He raised one thick golden eyebrow. “Do you mean did I know Squire and his house party were coming, or do you mean did I know you were wealthy? The former was obvious, I suppose, that sooner or later someone would come after you. As for the latter, an easy deduction. Any fool could recognise you for an heiress by your elegant dress, your fine manners, the table you set. On the other hand, perhaps I just kiss every pretty girl who holds me at pistol-point. You’ll never know.” He raised one of her hands to his mouth and gently kissed the palm. “Poppet, you’ll just have to trust me. You’ll hear many stories about me—some of them will be true—but I swear I won’t do anything to shame you, or cause you upset. Do you believe that?” At her nod he softly kissed each finger before saying, “Good, because if this doesn’t look like a love match, we’ll never pull it off.
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