His stomach twisted.
She was right. It wasn’t just Nora he must worry about. Not one, but two paying clients were waiting for him to bring the caricaturist to light. Heath had taken their money and given his word.
“It’s all right.” Nora took a step back, her smile wobbling as if she had just surmised the direction of his thoughts. “I shan’t ask you to break your word as a gentleman.”
Heath’s temples pounded.
One’s word as a gentleman was inviolate. Yet he could not be all things to all people. He had given his word to paying aristocratic clients. But he had also pledged a vow to Nora by asking her to be his wife. By taking her innocence.
No matter which path he chose, Heath would have to break his word to someone in order to keep it for someone else. He could not protect his clients’ interests and protect Nora.
He pulled her back into his arms.
“I choose you,” he said hoarsely. “I chooseus.”
She buried her face in his cravat and shuddered against his chest. “But how can you?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. There was bound to be scandal.
She lifted her head to gaze up at him. “Did you promise to reveal my name or to make the caricaturist stop?”
Hope flickered within him.
“I promised a name to Lady Roundtree,” he said slowly.
Nora’s face crumpled. “Lady Roundtree?”
“It’s all right.” He lifted her chin with his knuckle. “She loves you. She will forgive you.”
Nora’s eyes shimmered. “She’s the only one who will have to know?”
“Yes. As for Mapleton, I only promised that I would make the caricaturist stop.”
She reared back in his arms. “You tookPhineas Mapletonas a client?”
“I was planning to unmask the caricaturist anyway,” Heath pointed out. “His money went straight to my sister’s charity.”
“That man is a scourge.” She swallowed as if repressing a bad memory. “The things he said… How everyone laughed…”
Mapleton was indeed a scourge. “As I recall, I glimpsed a caricature you might have drawn of him.”
She sighed. “You’re right. His behavior does not excuse mine.”
He tucked a stray tendril behind her ear. “Are you disappointed your career as a caricaturist is over?”
She shook her head in embarrassment. “There are so many other things I would prefer to be drawing.”
“Why don’t you?” he asked.
Nora shrugged. “Who would wish to see high fashions designed by a country bumpkin?”
“I suppose itcouldbe convenient if you happened to marry a man who owns a gallery,” he offered slowly.
She hesitated. “About getting married…”
Had she changed her mind? His heart thudded. “Are you saying you’ve no wish for me to be your husband?”
“I’m saying you won’t wish for me to be your wife.” She bit her lip. “The caricatures weren’t my worst secret.”
