Unease churned in his stomach that once she learned why he was offering for Anne, his sister’s joy would transform into disappointment. “Yes. Well, I’ll explain later. But right now, I need those flowers.”
After releasing him, she rang for a servant and issued the request for two dozen perfectly formed red roses to be cut, bundled, and delivered to Lord Manning as soon as possible.
While he waited, Colin paced the hallway outside the ballroom. Each time he passed, his gaze landed on the closet where he’d been trapped with Anne.
Had their orchestrated entrapment been providential, or was their future union doomed to end in misery for them both?
Based on his interaction with Anne thus far, logic dictated it could go either way. Their differences could form a barrier between them and drive them apart. But then there had been that kiss. That surprising, all-consuming kiss that promised a connection strong enough to overcome any differences they had.
As the saying went, time would tell. But first, Miss Weatherby needed to accept his proposal.
Where the devil was that footman with the flowers?
After Colin’s thirty-seventh circuit down the hallway and back, the footman emerged from the terrace doors and rushed forward, fragrant red blossoms in his hands.
“I’m so sorry for the delay, my lord. The gardener insisted the thorns be removed before presenting them to you.”
Tied with a red ribbon, the enormous bouquet required both of Colin’s hands.
“We shall need a vase eventually.” At least he hoped so, andAnne wouldn’t throw the blooms in his face. At which point, he would be grateful the gardener had taken care to remove the thorns. His face had suffered enough damage for one day.
Flowers in hand, he marched toward the green parlor. Anne’s voice drifted out, and Colin inhaled a deep breath. And though he did so for fortification, the roses’ fragrance made his head swim.
The moment he stepped foot inside the room, Anne’s attention turned from her sister-in-law to him, her eyes widening as her gaze darted toward the enormous bouquet he held.
“I’m sorry to intrude. Might I have a word with Miss Weatherby?” Colin choked out the words, feeling more like a stuttering schoolboy than a man about to propose marriage.
Mrs. Weatherby sprang from her seat. “No intrusion at all, sir.” She motioned for her daughter. “Indira, come. Let us give Lord Manning and Anne some privacy.”
Colin gave a nod of thanks as they passed, and Indira giggled.
Alone, their gazes held, and the moment stretched between them, weighted with meaning. Yet neither of them knew what to say.
“Miss Weatherby, would you?—”
“Are those for me?” she blurted, completely interrupting what he’d hoped would be a compelling proposal.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The flowers, are they for me?”
He frowned. Who else did she think they were for? But wait. Did she sound hopeful? He held them out. “Yes. You seemed to like the other one, but as I understand it, you prefer roses.”
Her own forehead creased. “You understand it? Did someone?—”
“Lady Charlotte.” He drew a calming breath and released it slowly. Why must they dance around the most important subject? He gave the roses a little shake as he continued to hold them out.
“Charlotte?” She sounded miffed but finally took several steps forward and accepted the flowers.
Thank God. Perhaps they could advance tohis proposal. “As I was saying,” he continued hopefully, only to be interrupted once more.
“They’re beautiful.” She brought the bouquet to her nose and sniffed. “And, oh, the fragrance. Thank you.”
He bit his tongue. Pain throbbed, and the slight tang of copper filled his mouth. Was she dragging things out to torture him? And if so, what did that bode for their married life? That’s if she would ever let him propose. Drawing another breath, Colin settled his nerves and remembered Andrew’s words. “You’re welcome. May we sit?” He motioned toward the settee.
As he took a seat next to her, the memory of their closeness, of their kiss, softened his approach. “I’m glad you like the roses, and I hope to discover other things you enjoy.” Like that kiss. He couldn’t get his mind off of it, and his gaze drifted to her pink lips.
Which, God help him, she licked.
