I’ll marry you.
She gave her head a shake as she chided herself for even thinking it. He was a gentleman, that was all. He might not have a title or be a powerful man of society, but he’d clearly been raised to be a gentleman.
She frowned down at her lap. Not for the first time she found herself curious about his upbringing. He had the manners of a knight, the appearance of a street thug, and the attitude of…she knew not what.
He was at once arrogant, competent, caring, and unconcerned with society. He was an oddity, to be sure.
But where had he come from?
Perhaps he was a bastard—raised in a lord’s house, but not a true gentleman.
She risked a peek in his direction. Yes, that would perhaps explain his odd conflicting behaviors.
When at last it was time to leave, a plan was in place, and she was exhausted. Perhaps she ought to be anxious or fearful of what was to come, but as she said her goodbyes to Miss Grayson and the others, all she felt was weary exhaustion.
The entire carriage ride back she found herself sorting through all that had happened. Her mind racing to connect the dots and find a pattern in the chaos that was now her life. There was something missing. A piece to the puzzle she could not quite place…
“Are you all right?” Mr. Calloway’s low voice, filled with concern, had her looking over quickly.
“Fine,” she said automatically. “I am fine.”
He studied her profile. “You do not have to be, you know.”
The carriage drew to a halt and she was saved from having to respond. He got out first and held out a hand.
As she took it and let him lead her into his home, she found herself wondering at the normalcy of this. At what point had she become complacent about traveling alone with an unwed man, or at entering his home and feeling like…
Feeling like it was her home, too.
She stopped in the entryway. She’d stayed here all of one night and yet she felt more comfortable here with him than she had staying at her own childhood home.
What did that say about her? About her life? About where she belonged?
“You look as though you could use a glass of sherry.” His voice was laced with amusement but concern etched his brow, making his gruff appearance that much more intimidating. “Come.”
He led her into the parlor. The same warm, cozy room where he’d brought her the day before.
She liked it in here. In this dark, wood-paneled room she felt as though the rest of the world might not exist. Like she was taking a seat in a place out of time, where it was just her and Mr. Calloway.
For the remainder of today, at least, it was just the two of them. And that was an utter relief.
He waited until she took a sip of sherry and winced. She never had liked the drink.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded, lying out of habit, before remembering who she was talking to. “Not really.”
Her honesty was rewarded by a small smile of understanding. “You have been through much these past two days.”
She nibbled on her lip and toyed with the glass as she considered that. “To be honest, I have not been entirely at ease since I learned of my engagement. But yes, over these past two days…the situation has certainly grown more dire.”
He studied her as he leaned back on the settee beside her. They’d taken their positions from the evening before as if it was a habit. A routine. Like they were an old married couple who had their usual spots beside one another.
Old married couple? What a silly idea. She set the sherry down. That was likely responsible for her ridiculous notions.
“So, you were not set on marrying him then?”
Her head came up suddenly. “Of course not.”
He arched a brow. “You seemed awfully intent on it at your engagement ball the other night.”
Shame shot through her at the way she’d defended the man even though she hadn’t known him. “Yes, well…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I suppose I didn’t want to believe that my father would hand me over to a ne’er-do-well, least of all a criminal.”
His silence had her shifting uncomfortably. She wasn’t sure what she’d been looking for by admitting to that, but now that it was in the open, she regretted it.
And yet, now that it was in the open, she could not let it go.
“Do you think he knew?” She forced herself to look over at him, dreading the pity she would find there.
But there was no pity, only sympathy. Affection, even.
She tore her gaze away.
Dratted sherry. It made her see things that could not be there. She’d been nothing but horrible to this man. She was his obligation, that was all. His burden, at best.
She licked her lips as she stared straight ahead and rephrased the question that he clearly did not wish to answer. “Do you think my father knew that Everley is…who he is.”
Cruel. Criminal. Evil.
“I do not know,” Mr. Calloway said slowly, warily. “Your father has been out of society for some time now, has he not? I suppose it is possible that he was ignorant of Lord Everley’s true nature.”
Possible, but not probable. She knew that was what he meant. His attempt to spare her feelings by offering up that optimistic suggestion made the truth that much harder to bear. “I wish I could believe that.”
It came out on a whisper and to her despair, tears welled in her eyes before she quickly blinked them away.
His hand covered hers on the seat between them. She was glad that he didn’t try to comfort her, to tell her that she was wrong and that her father only had her best interests at heart.
She wouldn’t have believed him anyway and lying would not have suited him. “My father might not be an active participant in society since his health has taken a turn, but he has eyes and ears everywhere. And he’s done business with Everley for a long time.”
Mr. Calloway stayed silent as she tried to reconcile herself to the fact that her father hadn’t cared one whit about her happiness. She’d never dreamt that he would put her wishes first when it came to finding a match, but she’d never thought he would knowingly choose someone who might hurt her.
The thought left her cold. So cold she reached for the sherry again.
“I was such a fool,” she said softly. “For wanting to trust my father. For blindly placing my faith in Everley…” She shook her head in shame at the way she’d stood up for him to this man that night in Everley’s study.
“You could not have known,” he said.
“You knew,” she said, accusation in her voice, though what she was accusing him of she wasn’t certain. Perhaps she was just accusing herself of being a dolt and she’d turned that tone on the wrong person.
She was the one at fault here, not he.
He shifted to face her better. “I only knew because Everley and I have a history.”
She stilled. All day today she’d told herself that she barely knew this man. One kiss and a magnificent rescue did not mean he was not still a stranger, for all intents and purposes.
But she wanted to know more about him. She wanted answers to the riddle that was Mr. Calloway. “What was your history with him?”
“I believe he killed my best friend.”
Her lips parted on a gasp. He’d made this accusation before, but it was no less shocking hearing it again.
“I grew up with Andrew Alston, who was Everley’s cousin…and the rightful heir to the Everley title and the estate it was entailed to.”
“Ah.” It came out as a sigh as she pieced it together.
“Everley had never been kind to Alston. Their relationship was strained, at best. So when Everley invited him out to hunt…even then I was suspicious.” Mr. Calloway looked down at his hands, lost in his memories. “Though I never suspected it would end in murder. It wasn’t until I talked to other members of the hunting party and heard three different utterly inconsistent stories about how the ‘accident’ occur
red that I really grew suspicious.” He looked over to her. “Everley had the means, the motive… And I knew in my heart that he was responsible for taking my best friend from me, directly or indirectly.”
“So you investigated further?” she prompted.
“I did, yes.” His laugh was humorless and self-deprecating. “I made a hash of it. I bungled it all and made Everley look like the martyr.” He scrubbed a hand over his face in a rare show of weariness that made her heart ache. “I never did find the evidence I was looking for, and in the process I made a handful of enemies.” He met her gaze. “Including your father.”
Her breathing stilled as she met his dark, serious gaze. “Because he was friends with Everley. They were…” She waved a hand. “Cohorts.”
She didn’t phrase it as a question and he did not answer.
He didn’t have to.
She knew it to be true.
Her father was not a kind man, and she had little reason to believe he was honorable. It was becoming alarmingly apparent that he was not.
How much did her stepmother know of all this?
She shook off the question. What did it matter? Her stepmother was as powerless in her role as Delilah was in hers. Even if she’d suspected that Everley was a monster, she could not have done anything to prevent the engagement.
“To think,” Delilah said, more to herself than to him. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have married him without a second thought.”
“You give me the credit?” he asked, a hint of amusement breaking the tension. “You would have realized eventually—”
“But not until it was too late.”
He opened his mouth to argue the point, and she cut him off with a shake of his head. “I wouldn’t have seen it sooner because I wouldn’t have wanted to.” Her voice hitched and she had to take a deep breath to continue. “I did not wish to see Everley for who he was, because it would have meant knowing that….that my father truly did not care.”
He shifted closer, reaching for her to comfort her like he had yesterday, but she pulled back. “No. Wait, please. There is something I need to say.”
He stilled, his brow furrowed and his dark gaze locked on hers as though there was nothing in the world more important than whatever it was she had to say.
“I owe you an apology.” The words were stiff, her lips frozen. She and apologies had never been friends. She’d never quite gotten the hang of them, but at least she’d managed to get the words out.
He arched one brow in surprise but kept quiet as she’d asked. She smoothed her hands over her skirt in a nervous gesture. “When you offered to marry me last night—”
“Delilah—” he started
She spoke over him. “When you kindly offered to save my reputation by marrying me, I reacted horribly.” She closed her eyes as shame swept over her again. “I was unforgivably rude, and I am sorry.”
“You were under a great deal of stress.”
She rolled her eyes at his attempts to justify her bad behavior. “Perhaps, but that was not why I seemed so…so…”
“Horrified?” he offered, that hint of amusement once again in his voice. He seemed to revert to amusement no matter what the circumstance, as though he were forever on the lookout for reasons to laugh—at himself, and at everyone around him.
Such a strange man.
A strange, gruff, kind, wonderful man.
A surge of affection for this brute had her looking away as heat stole over her.
Horrified, he’d said. That was the right word for her reaction, and yet it wasn’t the truth. She hadn’t been able to fathom it because…because…
She sighed. “I was raised to marry well.”
He stayed silent beside her.
She peeked over at him with a smile she feared was bitter. “I was supposed to be a boy, you know.”
He arched his brows. “Oh yes?”
She let out a huff of amusement at his tone. “I was a disappointment because not only did I kill my mother in childbirth, but I had the gall to be a girl as well.”
He winced slightly, no doubt at the acidity in her tone. But it could not be helped. This man had been honest with her and had saved her at every turn. He deserved the unfettered truth.
“All I was ever meant to do was marry well. It was all I was good for in my father’s eyes. I thought if I could at least do that than maybe…”
He’d love me. He’d think me worthy.
It was too depressing to say any of those aloud, but she assumed he understood without her spelling it out.
He squeezed her hand tightly and she let out a long exhale. “But I am beginning to see that perhaps his good opinion is not worth much. Not really. After all, why should he think well of me when I do not think well of him?”
He shifted, flipping her hand so he could hold it properly.
Well, improperly, as the case may be.
“Delilah, it is only natural to want to please your parents. To live up to their hopes and expectations.”
She nodded. “I suppose you are right. But still…” She met his gaze. “I am sorry for the way I behaved when you offered to save me.”
“Don’t be,” he said softly. “I completely understand.” He paused. “I would have been horrified at the thought of marrying me, too.”
A short laugh was shocked out of her at that and when she looked up and met those warm brown eyes that now twinkled with laughter, she felt a lightness steal over her and she laughed some more, him joining in this time.
For the first time in a long time, she felt…happy.
Which was ridiculous given the circumstances, but there it was. Sitting here, alone with this man, who seemed to understand her and perhaps even like her despite all her many flaws—or maybe because of them…
She felt at home. She felt welcome.
She felt…loved.
The thought had her chest constricting, her lungs emptying of air as the room seemed to shift around her.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling. No, this heady, dizzy sensation was almost...pleasant. She supposed it was how one felt when one imbibed too much sherry.
She felt positively intoxicated by the warmth that flooded her in his presence.
“I was wrong, though, when I said I could not marry you.” She said it as lightly as she could manage once her heart resumed a normal beat. “It would be a privilege to be your wife.”
His gaze intensified so quickly it made her heart race all over again and the air between them grew heavy and hot with anticipation.
Heat flooded her cheeks as her own words hit her. Heavens, how very forward of her. He must have thought… What if he believed she was saying…
Her voice came out too loud. “What I meant to say was that any woman would be honored—”
He cut off her words with a kiss. He’d moved so quickly she had not seen it coming, tugging her arm lightly so she tumbled toward him, her free hand catching herself against his chest as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer so she was nestled against his side.
His kiss was heaven, all warmth and affection, passion and tenderness, as his lips crushed hers with a force that made her heart thud painfully in response.
He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against hers as they both breathed heavily. “Delilah, I—” He pulled back to look at her and wariness stole over his gaze.
“Yes?”
His chest rose and fell beneath her hands. “There is something I really ought to tell you…”
Nervous anticipation had her muscles contracting as if she could physically brace herself for whatever blow that was to come.
It would be a blow. His normally laid-back expression was replaced by a wariness that was unnerving. All amusement was gone from his eyes.
“Rupert, whatever it is, you can tell me,” she said quietly.
He gave her a rueful little smile. “Delilah, I am…”
A bastard.
A merchant.
A pauper who inherited a lovely home.
“I am the second son of a marquess,” he said on one long breath.
She blinked. “Pardon?”
Amusement once more crept into his gaze. “The Marquess of Markland,” he said. “He is my father.”
“What?” She pushed away from him. “But why…? How…?” Shock had her so flustered she could not even form a question.
His low laugh made her insides quiver and then she was back in his arms.
“Right,” he said, satisfaction written all over his face. “Now that we’ve got that sorted…”
His kiss killed any questions she might have asked, and though she had questions that would be answered, for now…she was more than happy to let him kiss her instead.
Chapter Thirteen
“You mean, you did not know that he was a marquess’s son?” Prudence asked. Her features were the picture of disbelief.
“You really had no idea?” Addie was laughing. Her little brother Reggie was laughing too though Delilah assumed he was not laughing at her.
She narrowed her eyes at the toddler. He’d better not be.
Her scowl made him giggle that much more.
Louisa was off with her family, or maybe her fiancé, since they rarely seemed to be parted these days. Good thing. Louisa would have been laughing so hard Delilah might have had to smack her.
She huffed. “You could have told me,” she said to Addie.
Addie shrugged. “I didn’t realize you did not know.”
Prudence gave a little sigh of exasperation. “I suppose this means you like him now?”
Heat flooded Delilah’s cheeks too quickly for her to hide it. She ducked her head all the same, feigning a great interest in the embroidery on her lap which had been doing nothing to hold her interest until just this moment.
Embarrassment mingled with shame. Embarrassment because—yes. Yes, she did like him.
Quite a bit, in fact.
Just the thought of him made her feel warm all over. And…mushy. Her insides had definitely taken to melting whenever she thought of him.
Most inconvenient as she’d been doing nothing but think about the man all day. She’d thought of him while taking breakfast in her room. She’d thought of him when he’d seen her to the school, all gruff charm as usual as though this was just another day.
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