“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, independence is fairly new to me as is the idea that I’m the least bit strong-minded. I like to think I was simply waiting for the right time to . . . to burst forth.”
He grinned. “Like a caterpillar.”
“Not exactly the example I would have chosen, but I suppose so.” She thought for a moment. “I am trying very hard to be the woman no one expected me to be and I find it”—she searched for the right words—“exhilarating. It suits me. I like it very much. It’s suspiciously like fun. And I am having a great deal of fun.”
“I have noticed that.” He chuckled. “I’d like you to meet my sister and my mother and grandmother as well. You’d like them and they would certainly like you.”
“What a lovely thing to say.”
“Not at all. I can’t imagine anyone not liking you.” He smiled down at her. “May I confess something to you?”
“Yes, of course.” She breathed a sigh of relief. It was past time for his confession, although she wasn’t sure what was left to confess. She already knew about his name and his family connections. And understood as well that his choice of profession wasn’t something his family approved of. That was not the least bit unexpected. Beyond that, unless he was going to confess an interest in her money, and she doubted that, she couldn’t imagine what other secrets he might have.
“I quite enjoyed our dance together at the ambassador’s ball.”
“As did I.”
“It seemed to me as if we had danced together before. Or always.” He held her a little tighter. “As if we were fated to dance together.”
“You thought that, did you?” she said lightly, as if it was of no consequence. As if it didn’t make her stomach knot and her heart thud. As if it wasn’t quite wonderful.
“Will you?”
“Will I what?”
“Will you dance with me always?” His gaze met hers. “Will you dance with me for the rest of your days?”
She stumbled and stopped short. “What are you asking?”
“I’m asking you to spend the rest of your life with me.” He drew a deep breath. “As my wife.”
“As your what?”
“My wife.” He cleared his throat. “I’m asking you to marry me.”
“Cameron.” She stared. “I don’t know what to say.”
He smiled. “Yes is always a good answer.”
“I hadn’t really planned on marriage,” she said slowly. “At least not yet.”
“Neither had I. But then I hadn’t planned on you either.” He chuckled. “But one should never waste an opportunity when it presents itself.”
“And I am an opportunity?” Because I have money? She tried and failed to ignore the thought.
“You, Miss Merryweather, are a gift.” He took her hands in his. “A treasure I neither expected nor sought. I further suspect that you, Lucy Merryweather, are the love of my life.”
“Oh my.” Her heart caught.
“I don’t want to reach the end of my days with regrets. You and your quest have taught me that.” He shook his head. “Losing you would be a regret I would take to my grave.”
“Love is never a regret,” she murmured. And dear Lord, she did love him.
His expression sobered. “There are still some things I need to tell you.”
She gazed into his eyes and surrendered. “I don’t care.”
“But—”
“Very well.” She pulled her hand from his and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you married?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “No.”
“Betrothed?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Are you engaged now or have you even been engaged in criminal conduct?”
“Let me think.” His brow furrowed. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Are you going to break my heart?” she said abruptly, and held her breath. “I would like to know that in advance.”
“I might ask you the same thing.”
She stared into his dark eyes. “The last thing I would ever want is to break your heart.”
“Good.” He took her hand and pulled it to his lips. “Because I would rather cut my own heart out than break yours.”
She smiled. “A simple never would suffice.”
“Then never it is.” He paused. “But, Lucy, there are things we need to talk about.”
She placed a finger on his lips to quiet him. “Tonight, they’re not important. You made this a place of magic for me, for us, and I don’t want anything to spoil it.”
“Neither do I.” He smiled. “Then will you marry me, Lucy Merryweather?”
“I . . .” She wanted nothing more than to say yes. To throw her arms around him and press her lips to his. To tell him that she loved him and would love him forever. But some small, reasonable part of her urged caution. She chose her words carefully. “I do need to think about it before I give you an answer.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”
“Of course I do.”
He stared and dropped her hand. “What is there to think about?”
“Why, obviously there are any number of matters to consider.” She ticked the points off on her fingers. “My family and yours, for one thing. Where we would live, for another. Whether or not I would continue my quest, of course. All sorts of practical matters that need to be addressed.”
“I don’t care about practical matters.”
“One of us should.”
“I have no desire to be practical.”
“Frankly, neither do I.” She pulled a deep breath. “But if this were any other decision, particularly one this important, you would be the first to tell me to give something like this due consideration. In fact, you would be most irate if I didn’t.”
“I have given it due consideration,” he said staunchly.
“Due consideration on both sides.” She shook her head. “I am not going to be swept away by a romantic gesture no matter how wonderful. Marriage is for the rest of our lives. It shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
“I’m not taking it lightly. I’ve never asked anyone to marry me before.” His tone sharpened and he stared at her. “I’ve given this a great deal of thought.”
“I haven’t.” Admittedly, when she’d realized she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, it had occurred to her.
“Hasn’t it crossed your mind before now?”
“Marrying you?”
“You needn’t say it as if I had asked you to swim an ocean or fly to the moon or do something completely absurd.”
“Not at all but—”
“But.” His eyes narrowed. “You think I’m beneath you.”
“Don’t be absurd.” She scoffed.
“Until recently you thought I was nothing more than a . . . an inept private investigator.”
“Do remember in the future that you were the one to use the word inept.” Her tone hardened. “Not I.”
“You would never consider marriage to a man who had to work for a living.”
She stared in disbelief. “That’s neither fair nor true. And even if it was, if I was that . . . that shallow, the fact that you are the son of a duke would negate that objection, wouldn’t it?”
“One would think,” he snapped.
“Under your reasoning, why, I should jump at the chance to marry you.”
“Most women would.” He shrugged in an offhand manner, as if the idea of any woman not leaping to accept his proposal was so far-fetched as to be unbelievable.
“I am not most women. I would never marry anyone because of what they are.” Her eyes narrowed. “I am more concerned with who they are.”
“You know who I am.” His jaw tightened. “I am the man who has done everything in his power to keep you from ruining your life with scandal and improper behavior. I am the man who has gone out of his way to help you in your silly little quest.”
She gasped. “Silly little quest?”
; He ignored her. “I am the man who has made certain you did not fall prey to unscrupulous French cooks and artists bent on seduction!”
“I would never—”
“I am the man who just foolishly asked you to marry him!” He glared at her. “Bloody hell, Lucy, I am the man who loves you!”
“You’re also the man who deceived me from the moment we met,” she pointed out. He had absolutely no right to be quite so indignant. “As well as the man who didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth!”
“You know the truth now.”
“Through no fault of yours!”
“I intended to tell you!”
“Intentions, Mr. Fairchild or Effington or whomever you are calling yourself tonight, scarcely count if they never come to fruition!” she snapped. “You had any number of opportunities to confess.”
“Yes, well, admittedly that might have been a mistake on my part.”
“Might have been a mistake?” She pulled a steadying breath in an effort to calm herself. It didn’t help. “I am not inclined to make a decision at the moment on your generous offer of marriage. I shall consider it and give you my answer in the morning.” She turned and stalked toward the door.
“What about my other question?”
“Answering one will give you the answer to the other,” she called over her shoulder, and continued into the manor, avoiding the library and the parlor and heading straight to her rooms.
She almost expected him to follow her and wasn’t sure if she was disappointed by his failure to do so or grateful. They were both saying things they didn’t really mean and it was probably best to part now before either of them said something that was truly unforgivable.
Besides, while she had done what she was certain was right a few minutes ago, now she wasn’t sure if she had been extremely sensible or had just made the biggest mistake of her life. The horrible heavy weight squeezing her heart indicated the latter. Still, try as she might, she wasn’t entirely confident he wasn’t still hiding something.
But Cameron had said he loved her and she did love him. And while she truly believed love was never a regret, she couldn’t help but wonder if, sometimes, it might well be a mistake.
Chapter Eighteen
Lady Dunwell was wrong. A bad plan was not better than no plan at all.
Cam poured another glass of whisky, took a fast swallow, and resumed pacing the floor of his room, trying to determine exactly what had gone wrong. He’d attempted to sleep but knew full well it was unlikely if not impossible. Lucy had said she’d have an answer for him in the morning and he couldn’t be certain what that answer would be. Especially given how they’d left each other.
He was extremely proud of the enchanted winter setting he’d created on the terrace; aside from the lack of falling snow, it was a scene straight from a snow globe. The rest of the evening was filled with missteps and mistakes. For one thing, he never should have wagered that blasted question, but the opportunity had been too good to resist. All he wanted to know was if she loved him. And really, what man in his position wouldn’t? A simple yes was all that was required. If she loved him, he could certainly find the courage to tell her everything. If she didn’t, well, it scarcely mattered.
But Lucy was right. What was he thinking? It had been the wrong place and the wrong time. He should have saved that particular question for the terrace. After he’d let the magic he’d arranged do its work. He should have taken her in his arms, declared his love, and only then asked if she felt the same.
He’d never before gone to such romantic lengths for a woman and, regardless of how the evening had ended, he was quite pleased with his efforts and the result. Lucy had loved it. But asking her to marry him then was, at least in hindsight, not his wisest move. That had not been planned. No, his plan was simply to enchant her. And then to tell her everything. Of course, he had suspected that she already knew it all. That he wasn’t a private investigator hired to watch her but a journalist for a somewhat scandalous paper using her life as the basis for his stories. Unfortunately, he was wrong. He should have realized she didn’t know the worst of his deception when he’d arrived at the manor and she wasn’t furious with him. That was a clue he shouldn’t have missed.
He had tried to tell her and he would have if she hadn’t stopped him. At least he thought he would have. He still didn’t have quite the right words, but he had been confident that they would come when necessary. Not that he had said anything right from the moment he’d asked her to marry him. Yet another part of his vague and not very clever plan, although he hadn’t intended to propose at that particular moment. The words simply slipped out of his mouth. While in hindsight, it might not have been the brightest thing to do, at the moment he said the words they had felt, well, right.
He certainly never considered that she would want to think about it. No, he was fairly certain she was in love with him even if she hadn’t yet admitted it. Surely one couldn’t feel the way he did if those feelings weren’t shared. He supposed it was possible that he could be entirely wrong. After all, unrequited love and heartbreak had long kept poets busy. No, he refused to think about that possibility. He knew her well enough to know how she felt about him. Because if he was wrong, then she had lied. She would indeed break his heart.
He blew a long breath. He really couldn’t fault her for not giving him an immediate answer. But he had been, well, stunned. Once again, she was right. Given any other significant decision, he would have indeed urged her not to do anything rash, to consider her answer and everything that went along with it. It was practical and sensible and he didn’t care. He wanted her to be swept away. God knows, he was.
She was right as well when she had charged that he had never told her the truth. That she had discovered it through no fault of his. He paused in midstep. Perhaps that was the real reason for her hesitation to accept his proposal. Perhaps she suspected there was still something he was hiding. And in spite of his efforts tonight to tell her everything, he wasn’t entirely certain he would have managed it.
There was only one thing to do. He was a writer, by God, and if he couldn’t find the right words to say, he could certainly put the right words to paper. He tossed back a bracing swallow of whisky, then sat down at the desk in the alcove of his room. He selected a piece of stationery, picked up a pen, and considered exactly what to say. The simple facts of the matter would be best, coupled with his heartfelt apology and a vow to spend the rest of his life making up for his deception. He drew a deep breath and started to write.
If he wanted Lucy in his life, by his side for the rest of his days, he was going to have to win her trust as well as her heart. And hope he wasn’t too late.
She was sure of it now—she had indeed made a dreadful mistake.
Lucy wrung her hands in front of her and paced her room. She had attempted to sleep but that was futile. The very effort was pointless. How on earth could she sleep when she might have lost the man she loved? And lost wasn’t even the right word. Why, she had practically thrown him away. She had simply thought it was a good idea not to leap into acceptance of his proposal but to deliberate about it in a calm and rational manner. And then say yes.
Surely he wouldn’t be deterred by a minor obstacle like her very sensible desire to rationally consider his proposal. But he had not been at all gracious about it. No, he’d been quite irate and had made a few comments that were definitely uncalled for. Not that she could blame him. She heaved a heartfelt sigh. If their positions were reversed, she too would have been upset. Her heart twisted. It was obvious that she had hurt him. Which only increased her dismay. It was simply her attempt to be sensible even if sensible was the last thing she wanted.
She’d always thought she’d know the right man the first time he kissed her. And in spite of the critique she’d given that kiss, she wondered now if indeed she did know. Because in ways too vague to express in words, somewhere deep down inside, it had been more than a little wonderful.
&nbs
p; She had to set this to rights.
But there was still something he was hiding. He had tried to make some sort of confession last night, but obviously it wasn’t of any real importance as he certainly hadn’t tried very hard. It had been her observation that when a man had something really important to say and had, at last, worked up the courage to say it, he’d let nothing deter him. Besides, her married friends agreed that it was not at all uncommon for men to use the occasion of a proposal to confess all sorts of minor misdeeds, as if by doing so they could wipe the slate clean and start anew.
Even so, there remained a niggling sense of unease that there was a matter of significance he had yet to reveal. And dishonesty did not seem the best way to start a life together. She had meant it when she said she didn’t care and that it wasn’t important, but that had been in the romance of the moment and really she did care. But did she care enough to allow whatever he concealed to ruin their future and break both their hearts?
Absolutely not.
Resolve swept through her. If he couldn’t find his way clear to confess everything to her, she might simply have to beat it out of him. Goodness, she had ridden an elephant and breached a gentlemen’s club. She could certainly wring the truth out of the man she loved.
But first, she had to tell him how she felt. She couldn’t let this wait until morning. By morning he might have decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. Which either meant he didn’t love her enough to fight for her or he was too badly hurt to forgive her. Good Lord, this was so much more complicated than the years when she was going to marry a man who didn’t make her toes curl and her heart flutter.
She’d write him a note and slip it under his door, where he would find it first thing in the morning. Lucy sat down at the small ladies desk on the far side of the room, took a piece of Millworth stationery from the paper rack, and stared at the blank page for a long moment. There were any number of things she could say but perhaps at this point brevity was best. Yes, indeed, it wasn’t necessary to write more than one word. She picked up the pen and wrote with a flourish.
The Daring Exploits of a Runaway Heiress Page 28
