“How do you think it feels?” she said, frustrated with his lack of comprehension. She met his green gaze. “To have you say that we are engaged, even if it just to Mrs. Morrison, just as a feint, while I know that you would never actually…”
“What?”
“Don’t make me say it!”
“I have no idea what you’re going to say.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “You would never marry me.”
In response, John actually laughed. The manlaughed. Catherine wasn’t sure whether she should hit him or storm from his room, although the latter would take some time as she was currently completely undressed.
“Are youlaughing?”
He took her hand. “You know what I said to Mrs. Morrison? About the secret engagement?”
“Of course.”
“That was the plan I wanted to suggest toyou.”
Her heart stopped. Such a possibility had not occurred to her.
“That we would marry? After Henrietta has her season?”
He nodded. “But then I saw your face, after Mrs. Morrison left, and you seemed horrified at the idea.”
“No! I just wasn’t sure if you were serious. When you said nothing, I assumed you weren’t.”
“I was perfectly in earnest.”
She stared at him. How could they have so misunderstood one another when they wanted the same thing?
“So, will you? Marry me?”
Even though she felt dangerously happy, she couldn’t resist teasing him.
“You mean enter into a secret engagement with you? Someone once told me that a secret engagement was an illicit dalliance by another name.”
“Well, it will definitely be an illicit dalliance. It will just be an illicit dalliance that ends in our marriage.”
She kissed him, drinking him in, trying to remember everything about this moment. How handsome he looked, his green eyes burning for her, and the way her heart felt that it might burst.
Then she heard the very distinct sound of coach wheels fraying the gravel drive outside. She broke their kiss.
“Bloody hell,” John said, rising from the bed and looking out the window. Catherine followed.
A very worn hack had pulled up to the gate. The wheels were missing a spoke or two and the outside of the cab was seriously tattered. The rain, still coming down, only made the vehicle look the worse for wear.
She and John exchanged a look of pure confusion.
She saw the question dawning in his eyes. Could it be Mary Forster?
Then, the door flung open, and a gentleman stepped out.
And then two others.
“Bloody meddlers,” John exhaled.
Catherine smiled up at him. “I knew they were worried about you.”
