His palm slapped his forehead as he grinned. ‘Cooper! Why the blazes do I keep calling him Crocker?’ It was beyond her. ‘But that is fantastic, Hope. He must want it, else he wouldn’t waste your time with a meeting otherwise.’ He eyes were alight with delight for her. ‘You did it, Hope! You are going to see your book in Hatchard’s.’
And there was the rub. The thing which had been the cause of much hand-wringing since Mr Cooper’s letter arrived via her grandparents in Whitstable this morning. ‘Technically, at this point, it is still H. B. Rooke’s book, not mine, and after last time...’
‘How could he possibly reject it? It’s a masterpiece, Hope, and I am not just saying that because I am rather partial to you. I am saying it as a reader of probably thousands of books.Phantasmais one of the best novels I have ever read. I couldn’t put it down and when I did, I raved about it for days. Ask my mother. I drove her mad with my incessant gushing, especially as I flatly refused to allow her to read it even though she begged me to hand your precious pages over and even threatened my person at one point—but I was resolute.’ His dark eyes were suddenly tender. ‘I told her that you had entrusted it to me and that the only way she could get her grasping hands on it was if she had your permission.’
‘I am not sure it is suitable for your mother...not after all she has been through.’Phantasmawas dark to its core. ‘I fear it would unsettle her.’
His bark of laughter was a surprise. ‘She’s had to deal with real monsters, Hope, your fictional one won’t faze her. She’s always adored the macabre, ever since she read that copy ofThe MonkI liberated from the vicar, she cannot get enough of it.’
She was horrified. ‘You gave your motherThe Monk? What if it had brought upon one of her nervous panics?’
He shrugged as if he hadn’t even considered it. ‘She loves to read. And she devoured it in a day. We have always swapped books. Besides, I was twelve then and she had enjoyed a long run of good health at that point which lasted for several years.’ His face clouded as he remembered the turning point. ‘To be frank, Hope, I think she was cured by then and likely would have remained so if it hadn’t been for Cassius.’ Then he shook his head impatiently. ‘But enough of that. You are going to be published, Hope! I couldn’t be more proud that my intended is going to be famous!’
His declaration momentarily threw her.‘Intended?’
‘Well that’s where this is going, isn’t it?’ He feigned some smugness. ‘Now that we are officially courting.’
She took a few moments to roll that idea around in her mind, waiting for the inevitable pessimistic warnings to urge her to back away from it, and when none came nerves flooded her. Things were moving fast. Too fast. And while they might well be going in the right direction, the perfect direction, prudence dictated the need for caution. A little more time to get to know him fully before she jumped in with both feet as he seemed quite content to do. ‘Does it have to be official?’
He frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
Unthinking, she fiddled with her fichu. ‘Just that official suggests we are shouting it out from the rooftops, and among our families, that will likely put a lot of expectation and undue pressure on us to rush into things which shouldn’t be rushed into.’
He folded his arms and stared at her pityingly. ‘Coward.’
‘It is not cowardice...’ Although it probably was. Her heart was certainly now racing and not from residual passion.Intendedsounded serious—unexpected, exciting and utterly lovely as far as her heart was concerned—but serious enough that her pessimistic head didn’t quite believe it. ‘It is common sense. We barely know one another really and we might...’
‘Bywemight you meanme.’
‘I mean nothing of the sort.’ Although she did. Yes, he was charming and noble and seemingly decent to his core and, yes, he didn’t treat her like an object like most men did, but things were all moving too fast. So fast since tonight’s incendiary kiss, she could barely think straight, when she knew a kiss was no measure of a man’s sincerity.
‘If you are going to be a coward, Hope, at least be an honest one. I might have only known you a matter of months...’
‘Less than two!’ Which was the crux of the problem. Or at least one of the cruxes.
Those vexing dark eyes rolled skyward. ‘I might have only known youlessthan two months, but I’ll wager I already know everything about you that it is possible to know—including how your suspicious and pessimistic mind works. You fear that I am too good to be true and that given enough time and opportunity, I will soon prove myself to be as unworthy and shallow as all those drooling hounds who only ever see your breasts instead of you. You suspect that I am putting on a façade of noble decency and pretending our relationship means more to me than it does simply because I want to bed you.’
He had managed to succinctly reduce all her fears, built up over a lifetime of experience and disappointment, into a few sentences. It was galling that he actually did know her that well. Galling too, when she had never once mentioned to him or anyone how self-conscious she was about her cumbersome bosoms, yet the clever wretch had worked that out all for himself too. As she glared and tried to think of a suitable answer which wouldn’t make him smug, while simultaneously not allowing him to realise that she didn’t trust him fully yet because her suspicious and pessimistic mind did require more proof, he smiled his customary cocky, lopsided smile. ‘Guess what? Idowant to bed you!’
He grinned at her affront. ‘I cannot wait to bed you. You are the most beddable woman I have ever met, Hope, as well as the most vexing, and I shall spend all of tonight tossing and turning and yearning, thanks to that splendid kiss earlier, because it wasn’t anywhere near enough to sate the rampant lust that I have for you. Lust which is still coursing through my veins and has pretty much since the first moment I clapped eyes on you sat by that fountain. However...’
The wolfish smile slowly changed into a different sort, the sort which was all Luke beneath the bravado.
‘Unlike those idiots who only ever see your breasts and who assume that because you were given them you must have been created by the Almighty solely as a vessel for man’s passions—I don’t want to just bedthem.’ He pointed directly at her chest while still managing to look her directly in the eyes. ‘Because my ardour and affection is for all of you, Hope. Your tempting body is but a fraction of what I want to possess and having you in the carnal and physical sense would feel hollow without having your heart and soul too.’
She had no earthly idea how to respond to that or even how she felt about it, but conscious that her jaw now hung slack at his hugely improper but strangely thrilling words, she forced herself to close it as he jabbed the night air with his finger.
‘And I’ll tell you another thing, my seductive sceptic, I have selflessly decided to deny myself the pleasure of bedding you until you entrust me with all those things unreservedly. In fact, I shall go one further. I shan’t make any attempt to have my wicked way with you until you declare your overwhelming love for me and expressly invite me to. How is that for noble and worthy?’
He was exasperating with his perfect compliments and annoying respect for her fears. But words were words and he had always had a way with them, but actions spoke louder. She wasn’t entirely sure what sort of action she expected from him on top of all those notable things he had already done to make her wary heart waver, but decided she would know it when she saw it. Until then it was better to be safe than sorry.
‘I still see no hurry to make our courtship official.’
He rolled his dratted eyes again. ‘That is because you are a coward and I am fearless—but at least you concede we are courting at least.’ Doubtless before she could argue that point too, he took himself back inside, closed his stupid French doors on her and pulled his curtains closed.
Chapter Fifteen
Rumours abound, Dear Reader, that the charming new Marquess of T. is about to announce his engagement! And if the sudden arrival of his reclusive mother is any gauge, we anticipate a very hasty wedding indeed. Could it be that the bountiful Miss H. from Bloomsbury, who I am reliably informed appeared intriguingly more bountiful than usual at the theatre last week, is in a hurry to wed...? Or are we all labouring under a misapprehension?
