"Yes," Caroline replied with a dismissive shrug. "But he wasn't serious."
Elizabeth turned hard eyes to James. “Are you in the habit of extending insincere marriage proposals?''
James turned even harder eyes to Caroline. "You are not improving the situation."
Caroline turned limpid eyes to her husband.
"Don't look to me for help," he said.
"He would have married me if I'd said yes," Caroline explained with a loud sigh. "But he only asked to goad Blake into proposing. It was really quite thoughtful of him. He'll make you a wonderful husband, Elizabeth. I promise."
Elizabeth stared at the three of them in disbelief. Watching them interact was exhausting.
"We're confusing you, aren't we?" Caroline asked.
Elizabeth was quite without words.
"It's really a rather remarkable story," Blake said with a shrug. "I'd write a book about it, except no one would believe me."
"Do you think?" Caroline asked, her eyes lighting with delight. "What would you call it?"
"Not sure," Blake said, scratching his chin. "Perhaps something about catching oneself an heiress."
James shoved his furious face up close to Blake. “Why not HOW TO DRIVE YOUR FRIENDS COMPLETELY AND IRREVOCABLY INSANE?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "You're all mad. I'm sure of it."
Blake shrugged. "I'm sure of it half the time, too."
"May I please have a word with Elizabeth?" James snapped.
"So sorry," Blake said in a voice that was clearly designed to annoy. "I'd quite forgotten why we were here."
James sank his left hand into the hair right above his forehead and pulled; it seemed the only way to keep from wrapping his hand around Blake's neck. "I'm starting to realize,'' he growled, “why courtships are best conducted in private."
Blake raised a brow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that you have ruined everything."
"Why?" Elizabeth countered. "Because he inadvertently revealed your identity?"
"I was going to tell you everything tomorrow."
"I don't believe you."
"I don't care if you believe me!" James shouted. "It's the truth."
"Pardon my interruption," Caroline put in, "but shouldn't you care if she believes you? After all, you did ask her to be your wife."
James started to shake, desperate to strangle someone in the room but not certain with whom he was the most furious. There was Blake, with his mocking stares; Caroline, who had to be the meddlingist woman in all creation; and Elizabeth…
Elizabeth. Yes, she had to be the one he really wanted to light into, because just the thought of her name made his temperature rise by several degrees. And this was not due merely to passion.
He was furious. Bone-shaking, teeth-rattling, muscles-about-to-jump-from-his-skin furious. And his three current companions clearly did not realize what danger they were courting each time they cracked another asinine joke.
"I am going to speak now," he said, keeping his voice painfully slow and steady. "And the person who interrupts me will be tossed out the window. Is that clear?''
No one said anything.
"Is that clear?"
"I thought you wanted us to be quiet," Blake said.
Which turned out to be all the incentive Caroline needed to open her mouth and say, "Do you think he realizes that the window isn't open?"
Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth. James glared at her. God help her if she laughed.
He drew a deep breath and stared hard into her blue eyes. "I did not tell you who I was because I was called here to investigate the blackmail of my aunt."
"Someone is blackmailing your aunt?" Caroline breathed.
"Good God!" Blake exclaimed. "The cretin must have a death wish." He looked over at Elizabeth. "I, for one, am terrified by the old dragon."
James looked at the Ravenscrofts, then looked markedly at the window, then looked back at Elizabeth. "It would not have been prudent to inform you of my true purposes here at Danbury House, because, if you recall, you were the prime suspect."
"You suspected Elizabeth?" Caroline interrupted. "Are you completely insane?"
"He did," Elizabeth affirmed. "And he is. Insane, I mean."
James took a steadying breath. He was about two steps away from spontaneous combustion. "I quickly cleared Elizabeth of suspicion," he ground out.
"That's when you should have told me who you were," Elizabeth said. "Before-" She cut herself off and stared purposefully at the ground.
"Before what?" Caroline asked.
"The window, my dear," Blake said, patting his wife on the arm. "Remember the window."
She nodded and turned back to James and Elizabeth, her expression expectant.
James purposefully ignored her, focusing his entire being on Elizabeth. She was sitting in a chair, her back ramrod straight, and her face looked so tense he thought that the merest caress might cause her to shatter. He tried to remember what she'd looked like just an hour earlier, flushed with passion and delight. To his great horror, he could not.
"I did not reveal myself to you at that time," he continued, "because I felt that my first duty must be to my aunt. She has been…" He fought for words that might explain the depth of his devotion for the crotchety old lady, but then he remembered that Elizabeth knew of his past. In fact, she was the only person to whom he'd ever told the entire story of his childhood. Even Blake knew only bits and pieces.
"She has been very important to me over the years," he finally said. "I couldn't-"
"You don't have to explain your love for Lady Danbury," Elizabeth said quietly, not raising her eyes to meet his.
"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "I did not know-I still do not know-the identity of her blackmailer. Furthermore, I have no way of determining whether or not this individual might prove dangerous. I saw no reason to draw you into the matter any further."
Elizabeth looked up suddenly, and the expression in her eyes was heartbreaking. "Surely you know that I would never have done anything to harm Lady Danbury."
"Of course not. Your devotion to her is obvious. But the fact remains that you are not experienced in such matters, and-"
"And I suppose you are?" she asked, her sarcasm evident but not obnoxious.
"Elizabeth, I have spent most of the last decade of my life working for the War Office."
"The gun," she whispered. "The way you attacked Fellport. I knew something was not right."
James swore under his breath. "My altercation with Fellport had nothing to do with my experience in the War Office. For God's sake, Elizabeth, the man had attacked you."
"Yes," she replied, "but you seemed far too familiar with violence. It was too easy for you. The way you drew your gun… You'd had far too much experience with it."
He leaned forward, his eyes burning into hers. "What I felt in that moment was far from familiar. It was rage, Elizabeth, pure and primitive, and quite unlike anything that's ever before coursed through my veins."
"You've-you've never felt rage before?"
He shook his head slowly. "Not like that. Fellport dared to attack what was mine. He's lucky I let him live."
"I'm not yours," she whispered. But her voice lacked confidence.
"Aren't you?"
From across the room, Caroline sighed.
"James," Elizabeth said. "I can't forgive you. I just can't."
"What the hell can't you forgive me for?" he snapped. “For not telling you I had a bloody title? I thought you said you didn't want a damned marquis."
She pulled back from his anger, whispering, “What do you mean?"
"Don't you remember? It was in this very room. You were holding the book, and-"
"Don't mention that book," she said, her voice low and furious. "Don't you ever mention it."
"Why not?" he taunted, his anger and pain making him mean. "Because you don't want to be reminded of how desperate you'd become? Of how grasping and greedy?''
"James!" Caroline exclaimed. "Stop it."
But he was too hurt, too far gone. "You're no better than me, Elizabeth Hotchkiss. You preach about honesty, but you were going to trap some poor, unsuspecting fool into marriage."