How could he have forgotten to send a carriage? He was about to ask her one of the strangest questions she had probably everheard, and he couldn’t even be bothered to send a carriage to get her here safely.
“I apologize for not sending a carriage,” Alexander said.
“It is quite all right,” Beatrice said softly. “Please do not trouble yourself any further on my behalf.”
She smiled at him, and though he still felt riddled with guilt, Alexander almost smiled back. Something about her had a way of always lifting his spirits.
It was hard to be upset with anything when Beatrice Montgomery smiled at you like that.
“May I please take your shoes off so your feet can warm up?” he asked. He didn’t want to wait for a maid when she was still so cold.
“If you wish,” Beatrice said, glancing away from him toward the fire.
Alexander began unlacing her shoes, doing so carefully, not wanting to hurt her. His hands were large enough to wrap around her ankles, and the wet knots were more difficult to untie than he had expected. He had never been this close to her before, and looking up at her brown eyes, which sparkled despite how cold she was, made him feel discombobulated, his heart beginning to race.
He pulled off one shoe and then the other, just as a maid came bustling in. He quickly stood and distanced himself, gesturing to Beatrice’s feet, allowing the maid to do the more intimate job of taking off her soaked-through wool socks.
Once the maid had gone and Beatrice was sipping her tea, Alexander cleared his throat.
She looked up at him, her brown eyes questioning, but the words stuck in his throat. Not because of the curse, but because he could hardly believe he was about to say them.
There was no choice, though. He had to protect his people, and this was the only way he could think of to do so.
He didn’t want to look at her, but he owed her the courtesy of looking into her eyes when he asked the question. This was one of the biggest moments of his life, and perhaps hers as well.
Alexander cleared his throat one more time and blurted out, “Miss Beatrice, will you marry me?”
Chapter three
Beatrice
Of all the thingsBeatrice had considered on her long, cold walk to Eldenwilde, she had never considered the fact that Lord Dunham would want to marry her. It hadn't even crossed her mind. And if she had to guess again, she still wouldn't imagine something of this nature.
If it wouldn't be super obvious, she would pinch herself to make sure that she was, in fact, awake and not merely dreaming all of this.
“Miss Beatrice? Did you hear me?”
Beatrice shook herself slightly. She must not be dreaming, and she would have to answer.
“I am...not sure,” she admitted. How could she be sure when she had never expected to get married in the first place, much less to Lord Dunham?
“I know this must be a shock,” he said, “but I must find a wife immediately.”
She could hardly believe the words coming from his mouth.
It was so unbelievable, one could consider it to be a joke.
Her eyes widened. Was it a joke? “This isn't a prank, is it?” she asked, just to confirm. “Dietrich isn't about to pop out and laugh at me?”
Lord Dunham shook his head. “I don't know who Dietrich is, but no, it's not a prank.”
“I didn't think it was,” she said with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. It was extraordinarily comfortable, and the warmth of the fire was beginning to help her thaw out. If she had been alone, she would have been tempted to take a nap.
But one couldn’t take a nap when a man was proposing marriage, which was apparently her current situation.
“Why must you find a wife immediately?” she asked.
Lord Dunham took a deep breath and opened his mouth, then paused. “It was my father’s will that I marry before my thirtieth birthday,” he said after a moment.
