“Don’t worry, Miss Weatherby,” Colin said. “I shall make everything right.”
Red and swollen from their kisses, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she remained silent. Strands of her hair had escaped her coiffure and fell haphazardly along her neck. A rosy blush covered her cheeks, the same pink as the flower he’d left in the library.
He peered down. The delicate blossom had come loose during their kiss when he’d pulled her locks free. After picking it up, he held it out. “And this wasn’t from Mr. Grey. It was from me.”
Her eyes flared, and she accepted the flower with a shaking hand.
Was it unfair not to tell her the flower had been intended for Lady Miranda? Possibly. Oh, hell. Definitely. But Colin wouldn’t accept failure, and when he offered for her, he wanted her to accept.
And wasn’t that the most surprising thing of all?
“Go. Now, Anne!” her brother said. “You, too, Indira. I shall deal with you and your sister later. Lord Manning, if you would follow me.”
Although greatly surpassing Mr. Weatherby in station, Colin followed like an obedient pup as he led him down the hallway and into Burwood’s billiard’s room.
A glass of liquor in his hand, Burwood stopped mid-sentence in what appeared to be a serious discussion with Ashton. His brow furrowed as his gaze swung between Colin and Weatherby.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Graces. I need a place to have a private conversation with Lord Manning.”
Ashton rose, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is all well, Andrew?”
It was common knowledge throughout the peerage that Ashton and Weatherby had a close and long friendship dating back to their time together at Eton. All the more reason to make things right withthe Weatherbys. Colin didn’t want any trouble with the powerful duke. And from the way Burwood was looking at him, Colin expected an interrogation from him later as well.
“I could ask the same of my brother-in-law.” Burwood’s gaze swept over him. “Your hair is a mess. It appears to have been an eventful day. A daring rescue in my lake, a fencing injury, and now what?”
Colin glanced toward Weatherby, deferring to him regarding how much they should say.
“If you don’t mind, Your Graces, all will be explained later. But this is a private matter of great importance between Lord Manning and me.”
Burwood nodded. “Very well. Feel free to use my study.” Burwood delivered one final ducal glare before Colin turned and exited the room.
Alone with Weatherby in the study, Colin studied his future brother-in-law. No nervous jitters or urge to make excuses flared in his chest. He was surprisingly calm. Resigned? No, not quite. Resolved. Even resolute. And a rightness about his fate settled on him.
He would make the best of the situation. A mother for his daughters—one they appeared to like as she liked them in return. A woman who stirred his blood more than he expected. She could give him the son he needed. She could fill his home with the laughter and joy it had sorely lacked for so many years.
A man of action, Colin wasted no time. “Mr. Weatherby, allow me to offer for your sister Anne.”
CHAPTER 13
Alice peered up from her embroidery when Anne stumbled into the green parlor on knees still wobbly from being crouched in the close quarters of the storage closet. Or were they weak from Lord Grump’s kisses?
Could she think of him as Lord Grump any longer after he had taken her breath away so thoroughly and skillfully?
Chagrin painting her face, Indira tugged on Anne’s hand, reminding her of how the whole debacle had started.
As if she could forget.
Would the grump truly offer for her? Anne supposed he had no choice, which sullied the whole idea of a man requesting her hand in marriage.
But that kiss!
“Anne?” Alice placed her embroidery on a table and rose, her brows drawn together in a question as she stepped forward and gathered Anne’s hands in hers. “Come sit.”
Turning to her daughter, Alice scowled. “And you, young lady. If what I suspect is true, you will forgo dessert for a month! Now sit!” Alice pointed to a chair at the far end of the parlor, then pulled Anne down on the settee and took a seat next to her.
“Tell me what happened. You appear dazed.” Alice’s gaze darted to Anne’s torn sleeve. “Are you hurt?”
“No. This”—Anne touched the ripped muslin of her gown—“was an accident.”
