The Marquess of Dorset. Wanted to marry.Her.
He had not been teasing, and her ears had very much not been mistaken. Nor did his gaze, so very intent upon hers now, waver.
“You mean it, then?” she blurted. “You want to marry me?”
“Yes, as I said.”
“Did you swallow river water?”
The corners of his lips kicked up. “No.”
“Strike your head?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you delirious with fever?”
He pressed a hand to his forehead. “I dare say not. Would you like to feel?”
Yes, she very much would. But she would not stop at his forehead, which meant she needed to keep her hands in her lap where they belonged.
She frowned. This interrogation needed to be complete. “Perhaps you received a telegram earlier informing you that you have lost every last shilling you possess and you must now marry a lady of significant dowry.”
He shook his head slowly. “I received no such telegram. Nor do I need a bride who possesses a fat dowry. Bloody hell, I do not even require adowry. Until this morning, I was persuaded I had no need to marry at all. Nor had I believed I had a wish to.”
“Until you rescued a kitten and emerged from the river,” she clarified, for it sounded quite fantastic, regardless of how much her heart yearned to believe those words.
“And saw you.”
“And saw me,” she agreed.
“And knew you are the woman for me.”
“Only because of the chill of the water? Or was it because your entire life seemed to be in danger as you fought the current of the river to save Fergus?”
Do stubble it, Clementine.
Why was her tongue running wild? One would think she wished to dissuade the marquess from his course when in truth, she wanted anything but.
“Clementine,” he said, giving her another of his rare grins, “or shall I call you Tiny?”
“If you do, I shall brain you.”
“Lady Charity calls you Tiny,” he pointed out.
“Lady Charity also persuaded me it wasde règleto go about without one’s drawers in the summer,” she groused before thinking better of her revelation.
But far from being horrified, Dorset appeared amused.
“Indeed?” he asked, after a bark of deep, delightful laughter. “What a pair she would make with Wilton.”
“Wilton?” Clementine thought of the very proper viscount and wrinkled her nose. “Never say he has an interest in Lady Charity. She would not have him. He is far too concerned with propriety to be of interest to her.”
“Hmm,” was all Dorset said, still looking and sounding vastly entertained. “No Tiny, then?”
“You may call me Clementine,” she said. “Or any other term of endearment.”
“Does that mean you have changed your mind?”
