“Oh,” Eunice said with a sigh. “I have told more lies in the last few days than I have in my whole life before. After today there will be no more.”
And then he escorted her into the grand house of Norton Park and up the winding staircase to the drawing room, where Lady Windrow was waiting to greet them, a warm smile on her fragile face.
“Charles,” she said as he enclosed her in his arms and kissed her cheek and wished her a happy birthday. “I told you when you went to Hallings that you must not dream of coming all the way back here just for my birthday. Ten miles is a long way.”
“How could I not come for such an occasion, Mama?” he said. “Have I ever missed being with you on your birthday?”
He turned, one arm about her waist, and her eyes rested upon Eunice, who curtsied.
“Besides,” he said, “I had another reason for coming, one that will delight you, I believe, as you have been pestering me for years. I wanted you to meet Miss Goddard, the lady I plan one day soon, when the setting and the atmosphere are quite perfect, to ask to marry me. It is time, you see, to do that most dreaded of all things to men, though suddenly it does not seem so dreadful after all. Indeed, it seems infinitely desirable. It is time to settle down.”
He smiled sleepily at Eunice, who gazed briefly and reproachfully back at him, her eyebrows raised, her cheeks pink, before wishing his mother a happy birthday.
Chapter 20
“WHAT WAS THAT?” Angeline asked after they had listened for a few moments.
Edward assumed the question was rhetorical since it would have been obvious even to an imbecile what they had just heard, but she was waiting for his answer, all wide-eyed and pale-faced.
“It was a carriage leaving the inn,” he said. “Windrow’s, no doubt. He is taking Eunice and probably her maid to Norton Park to dine with Lady Windrow.”
“Without waiting for us?” Her dark eyes grew larger, if that were possible.
“I daresay,” he said, “they hope to dine before midnight and fear that that hope may be dashed if they wait. I daresay they think you and I have a few things to work out between us. And no doubt Windrow does not particularly relish the thought of sharing carriage space with me so soon after I hit him. The fact that he did not hit back or accept my invitation to step outside indicated, of course, that he was a party to Eunice’s scheme—even perhaps the instigator. And Eunice will have seen the success of her plan, even though she was alarmed at the flaring of violence, and will have considered it fitting—or perhaps she has been persuaded to consider it fitting—to leave us alone to settle what is between us.”
“Miss Goddard’s scheme,” she said, “was that I leave that letter for you, so that you would come hurrying after us to rescue her from Lord Windrow’s clutches. Yet you have just allowed him to drive off with her.”
“I would like to read that letter sometime,” he said. “I suppose it is a marvel of Gothic literature. But before I came to rescue you, it was a letter from Eunice that I read. It was restrained in tone but really rather clever and quite effective. As you see, here I am.”
And he was beginning to feel just a little angry, in a different way than he had been feeling until a few minutes ago. He was everyone’s puppet, it seemed, and he had been dancing to everyone’s tune. Well, to Eunice’s, anyway, and that infernal Windrow’s. Lady Angeline’s was less effective.
“What did you say?” She frowned suddenly.
“When?”
“Just before the carriage left,” she said.
“It is you I love,” he repeated, gazing steadily into her eyes.
And it is you I could shake until your teeth rattle. But he did not say those words aloud. Actually it was all part of the same feeling. She fascinated him and annoyed him. She exhilarated him and infuriated him. He adored her and could cheerfully throttle her, even if only very figuratively speaking. Theirs would not be a match made in heaven. There would be nothing placidly comfortable about their lifelong relationship. But one thing was certain. He knew he was alive when he was with her, whatever the devil that meant.
Whatever the devil it did mean, it made all the difference.
And he was not even sure what that meant.
“I love you,” he added since she was uncharacteristically mute.
Her eyes seemed to fill her face. And they were swimming in unshed tears.
“You do not.” Her voice was accusing. “You do not believe in love.”
“If I ever said anything so asinine,” he said, “I must have been lying. I love my mother and my sisters and my grandmother and my nieces and nephews. I even love my grandfather. And I love you—in an entirely different way. I am going to ask you again to marry me. I’ll do it when we are back at Hallings and when the time seems right. And this time I am not going to go down on one knee. Whoever started that ridiculous tradition ought to be horsewhipped, except that I suppose he is long dead.”
She was smiling through her tears.
“I will not demand it of you,” she said. “But how do you know I will say yes?”
He wagged one finger pendulum fashion before her face.
“No more games,” he said. “There have been enough games to last us both a lifetime, Angeline. They are at an end. I am going to offer you marriage because I love you and would be unable to live a happy, fulfilled life without you. And you are going to marry me because you love me.”
A wave of uncertainty washed over him, but he mentally shook it off. It was time to take a stand. He had the feeling he would be doing it for the rest of his life—except when she was bowling him over with some madness or he was simply indulging her because he had no desire whatsoever to take a stand.
Devil take it, life was going to be complicated. He was never going to know whether he stood on his feet or on his head.
“You are very sure of yourself,” she said.
“I am.” He clasped his hands behind his back and resisted the foolish urge to cross his fingers.
The private parlor, indeed the whole inn, was suddenly very quiet. Somewhere in the distance a clock ticked loudly.
“We had better follow Miss Goddard and Lord Windrow in your carriage,” she said. “Perhaps we can catch up to them before they reach Norton, and our traveling alone together will not appear too, too improper.”
“I do not have a carriage with me,” he said. “I rode here.”
“Oh.” She bit her bottom lip. “Whatever are we going to do, then?”
He had known what they were going to do the moment he heard Windrow’s carriage drive away. He had known it with a ruthless certainty, just as he knew that Windrow would stop here for them in the morning. He would not wish to arrive back at Hallings alone with Eunice, after all, even if she did have a maid with her. Good Lord, he might feel obliged to offer for her, and that would be a disaster of catastrophic proportions for Windrow—not to mention Eunice.
“We are going to stay here,” he said.
Her eyes widened again. “Tresham would kill me,” she said. “So would Ferdie. Do you suppose there are two free rooms?”
He guessed there were as many free rooms as there were rooms at the inn, but it was an academic point.