“How very magnanimous.You would grant me every freedom imaginable for awoman, so long as I wear your ring while exercising them.”
He flinched. “You mistake me, Lottie.”
“I mistake nothing. Your talk of liberty is only another form of possession.”
“Possession?” He turned from her, dragging a hand over his mouth as if to contain words better left unsaid. The moonlight caught in his hair, silvering it, and the line of his jaw tightened. “Charlotte Tolliver, you have no liberty to lose.”
It was, of course, the worst possible moment for him to look devastatingly handsome,and Lottie, to her great irritation, was perfectly aware of it.
He turned back, his composure fraying. “Every inch of freedom you claim has been permitted you. Tell me, what future awaits you without a husband? A life beneath your father’s roof, bound by his allowance? Your brother’s goodwill upon your father’s death? And if Benedict dies without an heir, what then? Will you take instruction from that ridiculous cousin—Horatio, is it? I remember him from that foolish duel at dawn; the man could scarcely hold a pistol the right way up.”
Lottie said nothing.
The miserable truth—though she would have bitten her tongue before admitting it—was that Mr Deverell was, in this instance, quite correct. It was intolerable. Worse, it was humiliating. She could almost hear the universe laughing at her expense.
“I would rather starve,” she said fiercely, “than live under any man’s command.”
“Then you were born in the wrong century, my dear—or the wrongworldentirely. And you seem determined to torment every man unfortunate enough to inhabit it with you!”
She almost laughed, but instead lifted her chin, eyes glittering. “Then they must be pitifully easy to torment. A woman with a mind of her own should hardly cause such distress.”
“Distress?” Jasper’s voice broke slightly on the word. “You call this distress? You have turned half the county inside out, and me with it.”
Lottie sighed heavily. She was suddenly very, very tired. “Would you simply leave me alone, Jasper Deverell? Would you?”
“We have had quite a great deal of amusement together,” she said, knowing the words were cruel the moment they left her, “and I cannot think how we might possibly continue it.”
He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Amusement.”
“Jasper—”
“Good God, Lottie. If it has all been naught but amusement to you, then I am a very foolish player indeed.”
“I never asked you to concern yourself with me!”
“No,” he said hoarsely, “you never ask. Youcommand. You stride into a man’s peace, set it ablaze, and then look astonished when he cannot breathe for wanting you!”
She blinked, startled to silence by the desperation in his voice.
“Lottie.” He took a step nearer and she could feel the heat of him through the chill night air. “Be silent now, and listen to me. I am not proud of it, but I am past pretending indifference. You have made a fool of me in every conceivable way, and still I would marry you tomorrow if you gave me half a chance.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but the words—and indeed, thought itself—refused to come.
He gave a short, unsteady laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “God help me,” he muttered, before dropping to one knee upon the gravel. “Lottie Tolliver, I am begging you. Marry me.”
She stared down at him, her heart hammering so wildly she could scarcely breathe. “You are absurd. Stand up at once.”
“I am undoubtedly absurd. But I am also desperate, and the ground is very cold, so if you mean to refuse me, pray do it quickly before my knees lose all feeling.”
Her lips parted, and there was a treacherous impulse within that urged her to yield. She would gladly take pleasure from him, and give it too; she would dine beside him each night if the world allowed it, ride at his side, quarrel with him until dawn, and—had she been a man—count it an honour to be his dearest friend. But marriage? Marriage was the one cage from which a woman could not climb down, leap out, or charm her way free.
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“No, you will notrefuseme? Or no, you will notmarryme?”
