Children.
“You’ll regret it someday,” she warned him.
He, oddly enough, took her words as acquiescence. “By Jove, you won’t have to go to Wales, and this standoff with my father will come to an end once and for all.”
His smoky gray eyes smiled in relief.He wants this.
He needs me.
She stared out the window, a mixture of anticipation and guilt churning her stomach. She’d not expected this in a thousand years. Marrying Marcus Roberts.
She bit her lip.
She wanted to ask him a few other pertinent questions regarding this marriage, but in truth, his responses didn’t really matter. Of course, she’d marry him. She’d been in love with him for nearly a year.
She hoped Rhoda would forgive her.
“Yes.”
In her fantasies, this was the moment he swooped her into a passionate embrace and kissed her senseless. They’d dream together, of their future, their home, their children.
Lord Blakely punched a fist into his other opened hand, as though he’d won a race or a toss of the dice. Looking all too satisfied with himself, he lifted back into the seat on the bench beside her and made himself comfortable once again.
Oh, yes, marrying her might be even better than if he were to marry Rhoda.
At least Rhoda would have brought beauty to their union.
Emily pulled her feet up onto the bench and hugged her knees. “I haven’t anything to wear.”
“You can purchase a few gowns in the next village.” He waved away her concerns.
“Dressed in this?” Oh, why hadn’t she simply taken a few minutes to don even one of her simplest of gowns? She suddenly felt exposed, empty.
Alone.
Road Games
“As promised.” Blakely handed over three boxes and a large bag. “I’ve rented a room for a few hours, so we can both clean up.” He then removed his coat and handed it to her. Emily stared at it dumbly. “Put this on. You can hardly go traipsing through the taproom in nothing but your nightgown.”
Oh, yes. Change. Get dressed. She’d been lost in thought after he disappeared. Worrying that Rhoda would hate her now. Or that Sophia might think less of her.
Or that he’d learn his father wasn’t the ogre he’d made him out to be and regret this impulsive decision.
They’d both have to live with it for the rest of their lives. What would Prescott think of her? He knew the truth. Would he tell Sophia?
She slipped her arms in his jacket and climbed out of the carriage. All kinds of activity jostled around the Inn. Another carriage had pulled in and the ladies alighting from it looked to have just stepped out of one of Cecily’s fashion magazines.
Emily felt frumpy and dirty. Grateful for his jacket, she buried her head and followed Marcus up the steps. She doubted she could have made it through the crowd without his supportive hand on the small of her back.
“This way.” He led her up the stairs, into a sparse room, and set the purchases he’d made upon the bed. “I’ll grab us some food while you clean up.” Flashing her a grin, he toggled his brows and then disappeared. She’d not seen him in such a mood before. It was almost as though he meant to garner his freedom by marrying her.
Perhaps he would.
She caught sight of herself in the mirror, and her reflection stirred her to action. How he must have been laughing inside while he’d made his preposterous proposal. The braid she’d tied her hair into earlier that night had all but come undone, and stands of hair hung limply along her face. Beneath her eyes, dark half-circles stood out against her pale skin.
What had those people thought when she’d trudged her way through them downstairs? She didn’t normally care about appearances much or how others perceived her, but that had been when she was cleaned up and prepared to face the world. Not like this…
As she opened the packages Blakely had bought, however, her mood lifted. Not only had he purchased everything she required to be properly dressed, but he’d included a comb, hair clips, and perfume. A bonnet, pelisse, handkerchiefs, and delicate slippers.
