Chapter 23
The sharp edges of the stone digging into Diana’s back ought to have been enough to bring her back into the present—into reality.
No lady would do this.
No lady would even think about doing what she’d just done. Even worse, any other lady who made the questionable decision to welcome a gentleman into her bodybetween sets at the most elaborate ball of the season, no lesswould have the decency to feel guilty about it.
Which she… did not.
Because she had wanted this. If she could be neither his mistress nor his wife, she would at least have the memory of these moments as his lover.
“Diana—"
“So, help me, Zeke, if you apologize for this, I’ll—”
“No.” His breath sounded ragged as he held onto her, her back pressed against the wall.
“Marry me.” Her hair and the damp skin of her neck and shoulders muffled his voice.
“Must we discuss this now?”
“I’m sure there are better circumstances for a gentleman to propose marriage.” He shifted, adjusting his arms under the weight of her thighs. “But, I imagine, I assume there are also worse.”
Diana dropped her hands from around his neck and cradled his face. “But marrying me goes against everything you’ve believed most of your life. And I don’t want to be a marchioness. Those two things are quite a lot for two people to overcome.” She surprised even herself for not refusing him outright.
He drew back, and she could just make out the beginnings of a victorious light in his eyes. “A marriage consists of two people. We’ll determine our own destiny.”
“What about those ghosts and those who’ll eventually succeed you?”
“They aren’t real,” he lowered her so she was standing and leaned his forehead against hers. “You are.”
Diana wanted so desperately to believe what he was telling her, but she couldn’t.
Bethany had promised that she and Collette would be accepted but the ton, but they hadn’t really, not by most, and only authentically by a few. She couldn’t trust something she didn’t understand. And she most definitely did not understand society, nor did she comprehend the workings of an aristocratic marriage. Diana dropped her hands and smoothed down her skirt.
* * *
Greys was generally a verypatient man.
Before that was, he’d become enamored of Diana. And only moments after making love with him, he felt her pulling away.
Today, he’d sat waiting for her in Chaswick’s drawing-room for over an hour. He’d be damned if she’d get away from him tonight.
Not allowing himself to think, Zeke abruptly dropped to one knee, clasped her hands in his and pinned his gaze to her startled one. “Diana Winifred Jones, will you please, make me the happiest of men? Become my marchioness?”
She blinked. And then she blinked some more. Had she not heard him?
“Be my wife,” he added.
“I do not know how to be a marchioness.” Greys took very small encouragement in that she had not told him “no.”
He squeezed her hand. Convincing Chaswick had been the easy part. He simply needed to convince this woman now. He inhaled. The scent of their desire was a heady drug. “You’ll never lack for anything. Gowns, bonnets, frivolities… dancing masters?” He raised his brow. Surely, that ought to convince her.
“I told you…” She squirmed where she stood, and moonlight revealed that she’d caught her bottom lip with her teeth.”
“Tell me what you want, Diana, and I’ll make it happen. But marry me.”
“What I want,” she touched the side of his head, stroking her fingers along the line of his jaw. “Is not to be an aristocrat’s wife.”
