Chapter 17 #2
I took a breath and said, “Please do not engage in a duel with that man. It isn’t worth getting yourself killed.”
“Of course it is worth getting killed. This is my sister’s honor we’re speaking of.”
I could barely see his face. The only light came from the crack in the door and a bit of moonlight from the window. The room appeared to be a small sitting room.
“I am not commenting on Juliet’s honor. I am only saying that if you are killed, she will be devastated, and if either of you are killed, what happened to Juliet will no longer be secret.
People will gossip about what the duel was about, and as we know Mr. Fairweather has no honor, we may presume he has already spoken about what he did.
The duel will cause word to spread. And though we know Juliet did nothing wrong, it won’t matter and her reputation will be ruined. ”
Jeremy scowled—that much I could see—as he gazed down at me. “I must do my duty as her brother. And that man must be punished for what he did. I will not allow him to do such things to my sister without having him answer for it.”
“I understand, I truly do, but it is for God to deal with evildoers such as him. ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’”
Jeremy cleared his throat and was quiet.
Finally, he said, “I have sent the note to him requesting his presence tomorrow morning at sunrise. Pistols at dawn. The truth is, I doubt he will be man enough to keep our engagement, but the challenge has been sent; I will not take it back. I will do what any gentleman of integrity would do.”
“Well, then, I will pray you are not injured and no one is killed.”
“Would you be sad if I were injured?”
I couldn’t quite see his expression. Was he joking?
“I suppose it depends on how serious the injury.”
He made a noise, an amused grunt.
“I would be sad if you were seriously injured. Though we have established that you are conceited and arrogant, you are my dearest friend’s brother, and she loves you.”
“I know you like to make joking remarks.”
“You are a very good shot, are you not?”
“I am.”
“But we shall pray that Mr. Fairweather will not keep the appointment.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Are you certain the only reason you do not wish to see me come to harm is only for my sister’s sake?
Not for your own sake?” His voice was deep and rough.
That, along with the way he leaned toward me, closer than before, gave our conversation a quality it had not had before.
“I . . . I don’t know. Perhaps.” My knees were trembling. Why was I suddenly thinking about his lips and how it would feel if he kissed me? Perhaps because his face was inches from mine. Or because darkness surrounded us like a cloak, giving us a feeling of being completely alone.
“I am only trying to ascertain if you care for me, Miss Moore.” His voice was low and intimate.
“Of course I care.” Was that the wrong thing to say? And why did my voice sound breathless?
“I misjudged you, early in our acquaintance,” he went on in his low, gravelly voice. “You are so much more than I could have imagined. And if I do not return from my duel, I want you to know that I think you are the most admirable and the most beautiful lady of my acquaintance.”
He leaned his handsome face even closer. His lips were very close to mine. Was he about to kiss me?
I wanted to feel his lips on mine. I actually leaned closer, holding my breath, closing the gap between us.
He pressed his lips to mine, gently, warmly.
I shouldn’t let him do it, should I? I could have moved away from him, but I didn’t.
And now my senses were filled with Jeremy Beaumont—his scent of bergamot soap, the feel of his warm mouth on mine, the way his hands were holding my shoulders.
I was deep in a Jeremy Beaumont dream, and I didn’t want to wake.
“Oh my!”
We jolted apart to find the door wide open—and a group of older ladies standing there looking at us.
“What is the meaning of this?” the first one said, loud enough for all the ladies behind her to hear. They were all leaning forward, as if trying to get a better look. One of them was Lady Snowden.
My face began to burn. What had I done? This could not be happening. I didn’t do things like this. This was bad.
Jeremy was looking only at me. Suddenly, he took my hand.
“Miss Amelia Moore,” he said in a voice so loud it startled me, “will you do me the very great honor of consenting to be my wife, thereby making me the happiest man in the world?”
His face was intense, burdened even. And the ladies were gasping and whispering and pushing to get into the room.
How could he even ask me? For I knew if he cared for me at all it was only as the friend of his sister.
Jeremy whispered out of the side of his mouth, “Say yes.”
“Yes.”
Had I really said that?
But what choice did I have? I couldn’t bear for these women to think me a trollop.
As soon as I did, the ladies erupted in gasps and murmurs, but they seemed mostly happy gasps and murmurs. I wasn’t sure, for I was gazing into Jeremy’s eyes just before he embraced me, pulling me close. Then he turned to the ladies, one arm still around me.
“Please allow me to wish you very happy,” the first lady said, but she was giving us a rather dubious eyebrow raise.
“Forgive us for bursting in on your proposal,” another lady said, grinning broadly. “We were looking for an empty room to discuss where our group would be meeting next for whist. What a happy surprise! We wish you much joy and happiness in your coming marriage.”
The others wished us the same joy and happiness, with varying degrees of sincerity and enthusiasm.
But it wasn’t true. I wasn’t marrying Jeremy Beaumont. No doubt, he was asking to marry me only to avoid ruining my reputation. He did not love me, and I did not love him.
He very soberly said, “Thank you, ladies. You are very kind,” nodding to every one of them. So I followed his lead and pretended to be sincerely happy, though I said not a word. It wasn’t required, but I’m not sure I could have said anything if I’d wanted to.
All of this began because Juliet was so worried about her brother fighting Fairweather and getting killed. And there she was, making her way toward us with wide eyes, her mouth open.
“Are you engaged?” she asked, sounding as shocked as she looked.
The ladies had turned around and were all leaving, so I whispered, “No.”
“Yes.” Jeremy’s jaw looked as if it were made of stone.
Juliet looked back and forth between us.
I didn’t know what to say.
“I asked Miss Moore to marry me, and she said yes. Therefore, we are engaged.”
Perhaps he meant for us to break the engagement later, after everyone had forgotten that we’d been caught kissing at Lady Everson’s ball. That could work, could it not? It must, for I had no wish to marry someone who didn’t want to marry me.
But why had he kissed me?
And why had I let him?