Page 64 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

‘She turned me down.’

‘What?’ Reginald and Beatrice said as one, their smiles freezing, then turning to matching looks of disbelief.

‘Why?’ Beatrice asked.

‘Because she didn’t want to marry me,’ Lucian said, stating the obvious.

‘Of course she wants to marry you,’ Beatrice said, looking highly affronted. She then narrowed her eyes. ‘What did you do, Lucian? What did you say?’

‘I said the usual—“Will you marry me?”—if I recall correctly.’

He would not be discussing how, when or where he had made that first proposal. That was not something Beatrice and Reginald needed to know about. Nor did they need to know that in the heat of passion she had accepted. Although, while he was sure she had accepted, Primrose appeared to have a different memory of what had occurred between them.

‘And?’

‘And what?’

Beatrice frowned at him. ‘You must have said something else, other than “Will you marry me?”’ She repeated his proposal in a flat tone, as if impersonating a country yokel. ‘You surely made her a declaration of love, at the very least.’

Love? Lucian stared back at her, not knowing what to say.

‘Oh, Lucian, please tell me you did declare your love for her?’

Lucian still did not know what to say, so said nothing.

‘Well?’

‘No,’ he finally answered.

Beatrice shook her head sadly. ‘No wonder she turned you down. And good for her. Fancy not telling her how much he loved her,’ she said to her husband, who joined his wife in shaking his head.

She turned back to Lucian. ‘Well, if you want her to accept your proposal, then you had better do so.’ Her tone suggested she would brook no argument.

Lucian stared at the pair, still unsure what to say, his composure shaken by all this talk of love. That was something he had not considered. As he’d said to Primrose, he was so very attracted to her, so attracted it had damned him into becoming like his father. And it was because he had acted just like his father that he needed to marry her. For the sake of her reputation and so he could believe himself a better man than his sire.

But love? Was that what he was feeling?

‘For goodness’ sake, Lucian, stop looking like a fish left gasping on the side of the riverbank,’ Beatrice said crisply, causing him to immediately shut his mouth.

‘It is so obvious that the two of you are in love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man more besotted, not since I first met Reggie.’ She gave her husband’s hand a gentle squeeze, and he looked at her with an expression that could definitely be described as besotted.

But was she right about him? Was he in love with Primrose? It would explain a lot. He had been so determined to keep his distance from her, and yet he was constantly in her company. Even now, after all that had happened, despite knowing it was safer if they never saw each other again, deep down he desperately wanted her to visit him. He longed to spend time with her, and not just because he was so attracted to her physically.

Was that why he had insisted Clawdia remain where she was? The book had not actually said the mother cat and her kittens could not be moved a short distance such as between his house and hers. He’d told himself that was what it meant to say, but did it, actually? Despite all his protestations that he felt otherwise, was his insistence that Clawdia remain in his study because what he really wanted was to ensure he saw Primrose again? And wasn’t he, deep down, relieved when he had been given an excuse to not leave immediately for America?

It was all so confusing.

‘As for Primrose, that young woman is completely enamoured with you,’ Beatrice continued.

‘She is?’ Lucian asked, his bemusement growing.

‘Yes,’ Beatrice said with a sigh. ‘It really does warm the heart to see a young lady so completely undone by love, and if you were not such an honourable man, I would have put measures in place to ensure the two of you were never alone together. That much passion can be decidedly inflammatory if left unsupervised.’

He continued to stare at his cousin’s wife, but this time he rubbed his hand across his mouth so he did not repeat that unmanly impression of a gasping fish.

Beatrice raised her eyebrows, and he was certain she was sending him a knowing look.

‘Lucian, you need to put this to rights,’ Beatrice stated, saying nothing he did not already know. Of course he needed to put things to rights. That was exactly what he had been trying to do.