“I do not,” she said quickly.
She resisted the need to run her tongue over her lips. Hardly the proposal a girl dreamed of. More of a demand, really. The picture in her mind of him carrying his mistress over his shoulder made her unsteady. He was not the right man for her. She felt it in her bones. They would never understand one another. But when he kissed her, her body tightened in the strangest way, and she would not have objected had he kissed her again.
Marian said that this was the most important thing. While Nellie believed there was a lot more to marriage, she did admit it was an attractive aspect of it. As her pulse slowed, she deliberated. To refuse him now would bring the matter to an end. But she was fooling herself. It would cause an enormous fuss to refuse him. And she didn’t seem to want to. She took a deep breath.
“I will marry you, Your Grace.”
He nodded. “Charles, or Shewsbury, if you prefer.”
“My family call me Nellie.”
“Nellie,” he said as if savoring it on his tongue. His eyes seemed full of promises. She swallowed. He was devastatingly attractive. “Shall we walk?”
They followed the stream along the grassy bank, he taking her arm to help her over a puddle she could have easily jumped.
“Shall we tell your father to announce our engagement at the ball?”
“Yes.” There was no turning back. Charles had not given her much of a chance to… No, he had offered her a means to end it. Would she rue this decision to the end of her days?
She waited for the ensuing panic at the sealing of a commitment, which would change her whole life. But she felt rather warm and calm. Could he tame her with one kiss? Was that the power of the man?This wasn’t love, she reminded herself,it was, as Marian had explained to her,merely desire. Her mind refused to let go of the touch of his mouth claiming hers, his masculine scent, the strength of his arms, his commanding presence.His commanding presence?It was like a smack of cold water.
He would ride rough-shod over her. She must give up her opposition to fox hunting. Being married to a renowned advocator of the sport would effectively silence her. Suppose he discovered that article Walsh had helped her publish, stating her stance on the cruelty inherent in the hunt? Her pulse beat hard in her throat, and her steps faltered.
Shewsbury saw her stumble. He took her arm and assisted her over a rocky patch. As if she were a poor, helpless female who could never help herself. Well, she must show him she wasn’t one.
Nellie’s initial panic subsided. It was most unlikely he would come across the article, for it appeared in a lesser-known periodical and under a male pseudonym, but still, she couldn’t agree with Marian. Married couples should be honest with each other. She steeled herself.
“I don’t intend to ride to hounds.”
He raised his strong black eyebrows. “Did you have a bad experience?”
“I have never hunted foxes. I don’t approve of killing animals for sport, and furthermore, I have…”
Shewsbury had raised a hand to shush her. “Shall we leave that discussion for another day?”
According to the newspaper, Shewsbury shook a man so hard he’d fallen to his knees in the street. Must she be wary of his temper? Better, perhaps, if she became more familiar with him before mentioning her article. Might they one day discuss it reasonably, and in a kinder light? Somehow, she doubted one who hailed from the shires would agree with her.
They walked on. Despite her concerns, she was curious about this tall man at her side who matched his stride to hers as they crossed the ground toward a copse of willows, the branches trailing in the stream.
The smell of mud and mold and the sound of rushing water rose up to greet them. He stopped beneath the delicate tracery of leaves and pulled a leafy stalk from a branch to wave away an inquisitive bluebottle buzzing near her hat. “I believe you’ll approve of Shewsbury Park.”
Aware of his closeness, and unsure of his intentions, she stepped back, swiping at the persistent insect. “I’m sure I will.”
“My mother plans to move into the dower house after we wed. She has requested that you come to Leicestershire to meet her before the wedding. Parish affairs keep her engaged, and she seldom visits London.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.” Did any potential daughter-in-law really mean that? Mother-in-laws could be so difficult. She thought of Marian’s, who gave her no end of concern. Nellie wanted to like her mama-in-law and hoped they might become fond of each other, but she was aware that in a mother’s eyes, no woman ever measured up to their sons.
“My brother, Jason, and his wife are to come to London for the wedding.”
“How delightful. You will be seated next to my elder sister, Marian, Lady Belfries, at dinner. Marian is an amusing conversationalist.”
Nellie was suddenly quite eager to find out what her sister thought of him.
“Indeed? One always hopes for a lively dinner companion and so seldom gets one.”
How arrogant. She would love to take him down a peg or two. “Perhaps they don’t put you next to the right people.”
“That could well be so. They are obviously of the view that I’m a sober-minded fellow.”
