“I ought to have written a s-speech and m-memorized it,” he said and smiled at her with such dazzling charm that she almost took a step back. “Though my m-memory has been lamentable since I was knocked on the h-head. I might have forgotten it. I m-might even have forgotten that I meant to propose.”
She stood her ground.
“What you will surely remember tonight, Lord Ponsonby,” she said, “is that you escaped a nasty fate this afternoon.”
He tipped his head slightly to one side.
“Youwould be a n-nasty fate, Mrs. Keeping?”
Oh, she would not succumb to his charm.
“My sister and His Grace will be wondering where on earth we are,” she said.
Lord Ponsonby offered his arm and, after a small hesitation, she took it.
“I am curious,” she said as they turned onto the street. “When exactly did you conceive the idea of marrying me?”
All the mockery was firmly back in his face.
“Perhaps when I was born,” he said. “P-Perhaps the idea of you, the p-possibility of you, was there with my v-very first intake of breath.”
Despite herself, she laughed.
“You think I exaggerate,” he said.
“I do.”
“I shall go back to M-Middlebury,” he said, “and write that s-speech—if I remember. I may even compose it in blank verse. You will p-permit me, if you will, to call on you in the m-morning.IfI remember.”
Dora and the Duke of Stanbrook were standing outside the garden gate, looking their way. Although the street was deserted, Agnes guessed that more than one neighbor lurked behind more than one window curtain, watching. And she could not feel any indignation against them, for that was exactly what she and her sister had done on the day the guests arrived at Middlebury Park.
“Very well,” she said, and there really was no time to say more.
The gentlemen bowed and took their leave, and Dora preceded Agnes into the cottage.
“How very kind it was of them to escort us home,” Dora said as she removed her bonnet and handed it with a smile to the housekeeper, who offered to bring them tea. “No, thank you, Mrs. Henry. We have just had some. Unless Agnes wants more, that is.”
Agnes shook her head and led the way into the sitting room.
“His Grace talked to me all the way home,” Dora said, “just as if I were a person worth conversing with.”
“You have recovered from your terror of him, then?” Agnes asked.
“Well, I suppose I have,” Dora said, “though I am still in awe. I feel as dazzled as if I had met the king himself. I hope the viscount was as polite with you. I never quite trust that young man. I believe him to be a rogue—a handsome, charming rogue.”
“The secret is not to take him at all seriously,” Agnes said lightly, “and to let him know that one does not.”
“Are not all the ladies delightful?” Dora said. “Ididenjoy myself, Agnes. Did you?”
“I did,” Agnes assured her. “And I think Sophia’s illustrations get better and better.”
“And the stories funnier,” Dora agreed.
They chattered on aimlessly about their visit, while Agnes held a cushion to her bosom and wished she could escape to her room without her having done so being remarked upon by her sister.
Whaton earthhad that been all about? He could not possibly want to marry her. Why had he asked her, then? And she could not possibly want to marry him. Notreally,not beyond the realm of fantasy.
But how could she live on now, after he was gone, knowing that she might have married him even though it had been perfectly obvious that he had blurted out his proposal without any forethought whatsoever?
