“No, I think you don’t,” Pen said softly. “I yearned myself sick at school. I loved you with all the fibre, all the heart and soul a young girl is capable of. I still do.”
“You do?” He blinked, dazed. He opened the mouth, then closed it with a snap when he realised they had an audience.
The Duke of Ashmore stood in the open door.
Behind him was Viscount Alworth.
Both had heard Pen’s last declaration.
“This seems to be an inopportune time.” Ashmore turned to Alworth, who looked grim. “Rochford. I believe Alworth has something to discuss with you. My study is available should you require privacy.”
Marcus shrugged and waved a hand. “Might as well discuss it here.”
“This is unorthodox,” Alworth said. “But very well. This entire business has been unorthodox since the very first. As Miss Reid’s guardian, albeit absent most of the time, it may have slipped your attention as to what your ward has been up to these past few weeks. I hold myself partially responsible for having enabled, if not encouraged, some of her adventures. My motivation was curiosity and entertainment. A rather base motivation, I admit. I should have known better. I take responsibility for this scandal. There is but one course of action to take and that is to offer my hand in marriage.” He hesitated before adding, “Even though the lady’s affections seem to be elsewhere.”
His eyes bore into hers.
“Very magnanimous of you, Alworth,” drawled Rochford. “And my role here is to give permission?”
Pen wrung her hands in her lap. “Why?”
Alworth quirked up a corner of his mouth. “Why does Rochford have to give his permission? Or why am I proposing marriage?”
“Do you want to marry me, at all? Would it ever have occurred to you to propose if I hadn’t caused this scandal? What about Letty Mountroy? Aren’t you engaged to her?”
All heads turned to Alworth. He shook his head. “I never proposed to Miss Mountroy.”
Pen did not turn her gaze from him. “You wouldn’t marry me at all if I hadn’t drawn you into this scrape.”
“She might have a point there, Alworth,” the Duke of Ashmore commented.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Henry, give the poor man a chance to reply,” Lucy interjected. “Alworth?”
Alworth put a finger into his cravat and pulled at it. “Naturally, I feel responsible. I could’ve quenched all this in the bud at our very first meeting. Instead, I encouraged you to continue your masquerade. And one thing led to another.”
“You played with me.”
Again, he hesitated. “I wouldn’t call it that, precisely. But, yes, you provided some entertainment. But gradually I grew to feel responsible for you. I still do. I am honest in my proposal. And we did kiss.” He smiled vaguely.
“Well, there we are.” The Duke of Ashmore threw up his hands.
Lucy gasped and clasped her hands. “Oh, did you! Pen!”
But Pen mulled over his words. “You’re wrong, you know. It is not for you to take responsibility for my actions. It is mine, entirely,” she said in a low voice. “As for my affections…”
Her voice wobbled, then failed as she looked at Marcus. A confusion had settled over her that fogged up her mind. Marcus, whom she’d loved her entire life. Alworth, whose intense eyes caused a fluttering in her stomach and a tightening in her chest, and her words to get all warbled.
“I don’t want your sacrifice,” she finally whispered.
Alworth frowned. “This isn’t a matter of sacrifice. But of doing the honourable thing and of saving what can be saved.”
Somehow, this made Pen feel even more wretched.
Lucy wrung her hands. “I am certainly no stickler for reputation, having had none myself before Ashmore married me, so it seems quite outrageous of me to say so. But you are my friend, Pen. A sister, even. And I care deeply for you. Alworth is right. You can, of course, not marry. I take it, once you receive your inheritance, that you have enough funds to get by for some time…”
“Several years,” Rochford agreed.
“…and then what? You know how they are. Society will not accept you. Not after all this. The only way out of this muddle is if you marry.”
Pen looked unhappily at her friend.
Marcus cleared his throat. “Well. If she won’t have him, I suppose it’s up to me to come up to scratch.” He flashed a crooked smile at Pen. “Marry me?”
There it was. The moment she’d so desired her entire life.
She did not dare to look at Alworth. Somehow, looking at him caused a pain in her heart that she’d rather not feel. She didn’t understand the turmoil inside her. Alworth was a stranger. But Marcus—she knew him. He knew her. He’d known her parents. He was her guardian. She’d always wanted to marry him.
He felt safe.
With a big breath, she whispered, “Very well.”
