Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
“What?” Rosalie yelped.
“What?” Edmund cried in the same breath, helpfully masking the fact that Rosalie had bellowed like a fishwife.
Lucian gave him a baleful look. “Is your hearing starting to go? I said we’re getting married.”
“But you’re…” Edmund glanced from Lucian to Rosalie and back again. He swallowed thickly, as if struggling to come up with a polite way to phrase it. “Not the marrying sort,” he finally said.
Lucian dismissed this with a flick of his wrist. “They say reformed rakes make the best husbands.”
“And are you reformed?” Edmund asked.
Lucian answered by turning his gaze on Rosalie. “I am now.” He gave her a look that was equal parts fond and fiery.
It was remarkably effective. No wonder he was the most sought-after bedpartner in all of London. It was a good thing Rosalie was already sitting down, because otherwise, she would have swooned onto the flagstones.
She reminded herself that he did not mean it. That he was merely creating a distraction, which would allow them sufficient time to formulate a plan.
“I can’t believe it,” Edmund breathed. “Just wait until everyone hears about this!”
The fond expression fell from Lucian’s face as he swung to face Edmund. “Not yet.”
Edmund was cackling. “Yes, yet!”
Lucian gave him an exasperated look. “Think, man! There’s nothing you’re more fond of than a wager.”
Edmund frowned. “True.”
“Well, consider the odds you’ll get if you bet that I’ll find myself married in the next fortnight.”
Edmund’s mouth fell open, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “It could be my greatest coup,” he whispered.
“Yes!” Lucian agreed. “But only if you keep your mouth shut.”
“You’re right.” Edmund clasped his hands. “Of course, you’re right.” He looked at them again, his eyes bright. “A fortnight? You promise?”
Lucian placed a hand over his heart. “Hopefully less.”
Edmund frowned. “That won’t leave time to call the banns.”
“I could not possibly wait that long,” Lucian said. “We’ll be marrying by special license.”
Edmund peered at him. “You’re not bamming me, are you?”
Rosalie, who up until this point had been stupefied by Lucian’s absurd statement, shook herself. If this was the strategy they were taking, she supposed she needed to help him. She placed a hand on Lucian’s forearm. “Oh, darling, must we wait? Can’t we make the announcement tonight?”
“No!” Edmund shrieked. “Don’t do that. Just give me a few days to place my wager. Oh, who should I approach? Johnston? Greaves?” He tapped his lip. “The tricky thing will be making them feel that it was their own idea.”
“Well,” Lucian said, “I’m sure you’ll work it out. Now, if you would be so kind as to give us a little privacy?”
Edmund waved his assent and wandered back down the graveled path, still muttering to himself.
Once he was gone, Rosalie withdrew her hand. “That was some quick thinking. We’ll need to come up with a more lasting way to secure his silence.”
He arched a black brow. “Why? We already have the perfect solution. Marriage.”
Rosalie’s heart went topsy-turvy in her chest, in spite of the fact that she knew he was only making sport. She strove to make her voice light. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Bribery is always an option, and I do have enough pin money set aside for a decent payout. But I fear I would never be rid of him.”
“A poor option, I agree. Happily, I have already mentioned a much better one.”
Ignoring his innuendo, Rosalie tilted her head back, admiring the spray of stars overhead.
“If worst comes to worst, I could speak to my father. I have no doubt that he would put the fear of God into Mr. Reeves. Although I would prefer a solution in which my father doesn’t learn of our interlude, if one can be found. ”
“I agree that one of us should speak to your father,” Lucian said conversationally. “I believe tradition holds that it be the groom, who goes to beg for the bride’s hand.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop making sport. We both know you have no desire to marry anyone, least of all me.”
“Thank you for informing me of my own wishes,” he said with a sincerity so deep it was clearly feigned. “Prepare to have an experience that is, for you, a novelty.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
Lucian smirked. “Being wrong.”
Rosalie frowned. “You expect me to believe that you want to marry me?”
He inclined his head. “I do, because it’s true.”
She glanced him up and down. “Are you after my dowry, then? Let me guess—you’ve run up a gambling debt, or perhaps one to your tailor.”
He laughed, a rich sound in the quiet garden. “Believe it or not, my prospects are not quite as bleak as you’ve assumed. My grandfather left me a small bequest. It doesn’t approach your father’s income. It won’t be what you’re used to. But we’ll be able to live in a respectable fashion.”
Suddenly, Rosalie’s heart was tripping over itself. Her voice shook as she said, “You shouldn’t joke about such things.”
“I’m not joking.” He took her hand, and his dark eyes were… sincere? How was that possible? Lucian Deverell, the most flippant man in all of England, was being sincere?
Saints preserve her. What woman stood a chance?
He continued, “When Reeves came down the path, the thought that flashed across my mind, naturally, was that I would have to marry you. And do you know what I felt?”
“Panic?” she hazarded. “Exasperation? Rage?”
He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, making her shiver. “Joy,” he said simply.
Now it was Rosalie’s turn to experience panic.
Because at the word joy, a bright surge of longing coursed through her.
She wanted this, wanted him, wanted the future she was just starting to glimpse with this man who was clever enough to keep up with her.
Who found her amusing rather than overbearing.
Who seemed to like her precisely as she was.
Oh, she wanted him all right. But that didn’t mean she trusted him.
She was standing on a precipice, about to make either the best or the worst decision of her life. And she had absolutely no idea which was which.
As if reading her mind, Lucian said, “Look, Rosalie, I understand why you feel skeptical. My reputation couldn’t be any worse, and I’m about the last man anyone would expect to settle down and marry.
Then there’s the fact that this is happening too quickly.
I wish I had three months to convince you that I’m sincere.
But Reeves discovered us, and if he talks, which he almost certainly will, you’ll be ruined.
Had this happened with any man other than me, I think you would agree that marriage is the logical course. ”
He tucked a curl behind her ear, then continued, “I know you didn’t have much experience prior to tonight. But I can assure you that what passed between us earlier… it isn’t typical. It’s rare, and special.” He gave her a rueful smile. “If I’m being honest, it’s never happened to me before.”
Rosalie couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from his face. Without intending to, she found herself murmuring, “It felt special to me, too. It felt… magical.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you felt it, too.
And it all combines to this feeling…” He waved a hand in front of his heart.
“I know this sounds daft. But it feels like this, like we, are meant to be. I’ll be honest, I’ve never considered marrying before.
” He looked at her then, and his eyes were intense.
“But that’s only because I hadn’t met you. ”
It was the most wonderful moment of her life. Too wonderful, in fact, to believe it was real. She wanted to fling herself into his arms, and she wanted to cast her accounts simultaneously, in equal measure.
But the thing about Rosalie was that when she erred, it was never for lack of daring. Given the choice between taking an audacious risk that might turn out to be a disaster and staying home and playing it safe, she chose the disaster, every single time.
This was no exception. She was going to take the risk.
She was going to choose the disaster that was Lucian Deverell.
He was still speaking. “What can I say to convince you that I am sincere? I’ll do anything. I’ll swear on my grandfather’s grave, or—”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Lucian’s eyes sharpened. “Yes? Is that a yes, I should swear on my grandfather’s grave? Or a—”
“Yes,” Rosalie said more firmly, “I will marry you.”
It took a moment for her words to register, but then, a smile blossomed across his face. If Rosalie had thought him handsome before, it was nothing, nothing at all, compared to the combination of his fine features with an expression of incandescent happiness.
He hauled her into his arms and pulled her close. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered into her hair. He lifted his head so he could give her a crooked smile. “Maybe you’re not as clever as I supposed if you’re taking a chance on a bad apple like me.”
She laughed. “Goodness knows I have any number of flaws. But I’ve never been a coward. And with you…” She waved a hand, struggling to explain. “You’re the only man I’ve ever met where I honestly believe there’s a chance I could be happy. That’s worth the risk, I think.”
He brushed a kiss against her forehead. “You won’t be sorry.
I promise, you won’t.” He grinned. “I’m so excited!
I never thought I would feel excited about the prospect of getting married.
But this… but us…” He kissed her again. “We’re going to be happy, Rosalie.
I know we are. How do you feel about Stratford-upon-Avon? ”
“Stratford-upon-Avon?” she asked, startled.
“That’s where the living is,” he said quickly. “Will you mind?”
“Not at all,” she answered honestly. The thought of exchanging London, with its vapid social whirl, for a charming riverside town with ties to Shakespeare was appealing indeed. “I daresay Stratford-upon-Avon will suit me just fine.”
“Good. Good!” He looked almost boyish in his enthusiasm. “I’ll call upon your father tomorrow. When can I see you again?”
“Mama is dragging me to the dressmaker’s tomorrow, so there is a possibility that I might be out when you call on Papa. But I’ll be at Mrs. Bloomfield’s ball in the evening.”
“I’ll find you there.” He kissed her, deeply but briefly. “You’d best head back before we’re discovered. Again. I’ll wait ten minutes, then follow.”
She made a show of looking him up and down. “When did you become such a stickler for propriety?”
His eyes gleamed. “I’m saving all of my wickedness for our wedding night.”
It was her turn to kiss him then. She lingered over it, nibbling on his bottom lip before lifting her head. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
She could hear his laughter behind her as she hurried back toward the house.