“Here,” she said, carrying the tray over to Sterling.
He stared at the lopsided tower of plates and bowls she’d shoved into his hands as if she had just handed him a mummified head. “What the devil am I to do with these?”
“Take them into the kitchen, then come back for more,” she said briskly.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this ispreciselywhy I have servants. It’s one of the few benefits of being a duke. That and women tend to fawn over me in endless droves.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not fawning.”
“Nor do I have any intention of starting. Shoo,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him. “The dishes aren’t going to tidy themselves. And once you’ve done that, I need assistance with this quilt.”
Muttering something indecipherable under his breath, Sterling stomped away and Rosemary turned from the door to hide a smile. When he returned–still muttering–she patiently guided him through the proper steps of blanket folding, and then they tackled the carelessly discarded piles of clothes.
After the room was finally tidied, she rocked back on her heels with her hands on her hips and nodded in approval. “There. Doesn’t that make you feel better? You’ve accomplished a task.”
Sterling scratched his chin. “I need to pay the maids more.”
“Yes, you should.”
“It does feel good,” he admitted. “To see the before and after, and know that I had a hand in the improvement of it. Not that picking up a few dirty cups and a pair of socks is anything of great significance. But…”
“It’s something,” she said, secretly pleased at the glint of pride she saw in the depths of his gaze. A gaze that was, for once, clear of alcohol, cynicism, and pain.
“Indeed. Now, as much as I’ve enjoyed cleaning my own damned house, it’s time for you and your rat to go home, Renita. Unless your grandmother is aware that you’ve trotted off to the private residence of your wicked fiancé so that you might be brought to sweet release atop a bench in his foyer?” he queried innocently.
“I…I didn’t tell her where I was going,” Rosemary admitted as a flush crept up into her collarbones.Naughty duke, she thought. “My grandmother may be under the impression that I am shopping with a friend at the new department store on Oxford Street.”
“I figured as much when you did not arrive with a chaperone in tow,” Sterling said dryly. “You’ve become quite the troublemaker since leaving Hawkridge Manor. I’m not sure if I should associate with you.”
“That may be a problem, seeing as we’re to be married.” Gloved fingers twining together behind her back, she bit her lip as they reentered the foyer. “Weareto be married, aren’t we?”
Positioning himself in front of the door, her fiancé folded his arms. “That’s the second time you’ve brought our engagement into question. Have I done something I’m unaware of to make you doubt my intentions? I’m well versed in my numerous shortcomings, but going back on my word isn’t one of them.”
“You mean besides asking me to marry you on a whim and then disappearing without a word?” From inside her pocket, Sir Reginald, who was no doubt growing restless, gave a loud chirp. Scooping him up, she placed him on her shoulder where he sat with his black eyes fixed on Sterling and his fluffy tail twitching.
“I did not propose on a whim.” Sterling looked at Sir Reginald. “Why is he staring at me like that? I don’t like it.”
“Then you had every intention of asking me to marry you before Lady Navessa caught us together at the ball?” Rosemary hadn’t come here today with the intention of pressing Sterling aboutwhyhe’d asked her to marry him. Whether, she’d just wanted to knowifthey remained engaged. A question he’d already answered. Twice. But doubt was like a thief in the night. It moved rapidly through the shadows, stealing whatever precious sense of security and confidence it was able to get its hands on.
She didn’t expect Sterling to be head over heels in love with her. Not yet, anyways. But she needed to know it was a possibility. She needed to be reassured that there wassomethingabout her that he found alluring enough to want to marry her. Not only because he felt he had to, but because he wanted to.
“I cannot say I specifically went to the Marigold Ball with plans to propose, no.” Sterling’s gaze remained trained suspiciously on Sir Reginald. “He’s plotting my demise. I can tell.”
“If you didn’t come to the ball with plans to propose to me, then you did, by definition, do it on a whim,” she said, almost desperately.
“Then I guess I did.” He started to shrug, took note of her expression, and dropped his shoulder. A line chiseled itself into the middle of his forehead. “Is that a problem? You already said yes.”
“I know I did, but…”
“But?” said Sterling in a voice that was noticeably colder than it had been just a second ago.
But I need to know that I am more than a convenient means to restore your reputation. But I need to know that had Lady Navessa not come upon us that night, you would still be interested in me. But I need to know that our marriage will be built on more than a whim.
But, but, but.
The words were there, right on the tip of her tongue.
Except when she opened her mouth, they weren’t the words that came out.
“But we should probably start planning our wedding earlier rather than later.”Coward, she told herself. Even Sir Reginald appeared disappointed, if the sound of his chittering was any indication. “We don’t even have a date, or a church selected. Evie and Lord Weston are to be married this autumn at the village parish by Hawkridge Manor. She’s asked me to be a bridesmaid, and I’d not dare incite her wrath by doing anything before her big day. But perhaps in the spring or summer? That would give us plenty of time to plan, and–”
