“Oh, hell.” His mind finally processed her explanation. Glancing outside, he realized the sun looked to have been risen for some time now. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his timepiece. “It’s nearly noon.”
Blakely reached up, took hold of a knob, and slid aside a door, allowing cool air and sunshine to spill into the carriage. “Good morning, Michaels.” The blasted cad sounded as though he was old friends with their equally blasted cad of a driver. “Plan on changing out the cattle soon?”
His manners were the same as if they were on a Sunday afternoon drive. How could he be so nonchalant about all of this? She was supposed to be getting engaged to Lord Carlisle this morning!
Emily leaned back in resignation. Poor, dear Lord Carlisle would make a lucky escape. And now she’d lied to Lord Blakely about Rhoda. But he might back out completely if he knew Rhoda was reluctant! Such a muddle!
She couldn’t quite make out what the driver said so she stared out the window feeling sticky and wrinkled and… exhausted.
Blakely dropped back onto the bench and ran one hand through his hair. How was it that a gentleman who ought to look as battered as she felt managed to appear even more attractive? Whiskers shadowing his jaw, his hair standing on end, and clothing more wrinkled than her own, he still exuded rakish charm. “He’ll be stopping in an hour.”
“Half the day’s gone,” Emily bemoaned. “We won’t make it back to Eden’s Court until evening!”
Blakely raised one hand to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. “Not so sure we ought to do that.”
She shot her gaze toward him in astonishment.
He merely shrugged. “I don’t believe Miss Mossant is ill at all. I think she’s changed her mind.”
Even her lies were falling apart quickly. Oh, drat! And she deserved it. She deserved all of it. She didn’t even try to feign innocence when she met his gaze.
“That’s exactly what’s happened, isn’t it?” He raised his brows knowingly. “Miss Mossant has jilted me.”
“Very well. Yes, very well!” Emily threw her arms up in surrender. “I don’t know what she’s thinking. It was the perfect solution!Youwere the perfect solution! What a blasted mess this has all turned into. I suppose Carlisle’s off the hook as well. And now I’ll be sent to Wales, a slave to Aunt Gertrude, never to be heard from again.” She did not want to think about that right now. Not to mention that her own reputation would be tarnished once Mrs. Mossant returned to London. She groaned and buried her head in her lap.
“You’re not usually this obtuse, Miss Goodnight.”
She peered over her arm to see what he was blathering on about.
Blakely had leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. He was totally unaffected by any of this. Oh, but to be a man!
“What?” She glared at him.
A teasing glint entered his gaze. “All right then. Allow me to spell it out for you.” And then he slid off his bench and propped himself on one knee before her.
Taking her hand, his face twisted into that of a swooning lover. “My dearest darling, my most beloved Miss Goodnight. Please, I beg of you, make me the happiest gentleman in all the kingdom! Free me from my misery, release me from my torment. Marry me, Miss Goodnight! Say yes so that we can live happily ever after!”
He then lifted her hands to his lips and pressed an obnoxious kiss on the back of her wrist. “And help me end this nonsense with my father once and for all!”
For half a second, tiny shivers spiraled down her body. Except they fizzled all too quickly as the reality of his proposal dawned on her. He hadlikedthe idea of taking revenge against his father. And although her reputation wasn’t nearly as tarnished as Rhoda’s, it was no longer stellar. She supposed his father would be just as annoyed with him for marrying a bespectacled bluestocking nobody.
Could she do this? Could she live with herself if she did?
She would have her own home. Likely, he’d leave her there for years at a time, but she’d have freedom.
“Perhaps Rhoda calling off is a sign you ought to make amends with your father.” She made a half-hearted attempt. “What if you’ve been misinformed?” She should tell him what the duke had discovered.
But he shook his head.
“What if your father didn’t kill Mr. Thistlebum? What if everything you’ve believed for the past ten years was all a mistake?”
He reached forward and pressed a fingertip against her lips. “Stop manipulating. Stop trying to solve everyone else’s troubles. And give me an answer.”
This man. She’d wanted nothing more over the past year than for him to notice her. She’d dreamed of his kisses. Made him into the hero of all her dreams.
And now he knelt before her. Not offering her love and companionship for the remainder of their lives, but something she needed desperately.
Oddly enough, freedom. And with it… perhaps a few marital delights.
