Page 15 of An Accidental Elopement

Eight

Archie could see the shock register in Cecilia’s face for the second time that day. He had not thought of the consequences of leaving alone with her when they left Great Farleigh Hall that morning but knew there was no turning back when they reached the inn.

The situation should have terrified him since it was exactly what he had been trying to avoid since reaching his majority, yet there had been nothing. Just the feeling that if that was how it was going to be then... fine. Which should be shocking, but he had little time to examine his own emotions as he saw Cecilia turn white and sway on her feet. He gripped her upper arms a bit tighter. Her gaze was far away, and there was a distant, glassy quality to her eyes.

“I think I might be sick,” she whispered in a thick voice.

Swiftly Archie hauled her into his arms and carried her to a narrow and uncomfortable looking settee in a corner. He would have liked to have placed her anywhere else perhaps except on the floor, but this was the best that he could do. As soon as she was resting there, he took two swift paces to the table, emptied a bowl of green beans into one with peas and carrots and thrust the porcelain bowl under her chin.

“You will be fine,” he murmured and helped her remove her bonnet and shawl. He stroked her hair as she leaned over the edge of the settee, her face close to the bowl. He meant she would be fine this moment. That it was fine by him if she cast up her accounts, that he would not judge her for it, yet if she interpreted it as she would be fine in general it made no difference to him.

They stayed this way for minutes, him crouched next to the settee and her leaning over the side. As it seemed that she was not actually in imminent danger of dispatching her food, he started to relax more and was able to appreciate the softness of her hair under his hand. He had made a sore mess of it, but Heaven it felt wonderful. Like the silky skin of the peaches that the head gardener at Great Farleigh Hall produced in their hothouse with extreme effort.

A swirl settled in the pit of his stomach. It was definitely desire but there was more to it than that. Possessiveness. She would be his to touch now. His to kiss when he wanted. To take to his bed. To run his house but also... to spend those lonely evenings at Farleigh Cottage with. Yes, he would probably like being married to Cecilia Gaywood very much.

In that moment, she hurled her head up and lay back on the settee with a heavy sigh, hiding her head in her hands.

“We can’t marry, Archie,” she told him, her voice muffled by her palms.

Her slight frame on the settee made a new wave of possessiveness rush through him. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the fact that she used his Christian name and not his title. He was quite certain that it was unintentional, but he liked that she thought of him in that manner.

“Of course, we can. In fact, we have to,” he said and moved to sit on the settee by her hip. It was not that he wanted to encroach on her space, but his calves were starting to prick and go numb due to the cut off blood circulation in his bent knees.

“No, this is all wrong,” Cecilia complained behind her hands.

A sinking feeling spiraled through his body as he studied her. There was nothing to say to her statement. If she truly would rather be ruined than be married to him that was her choice to make. This was a situation that he could not coax or charm himself out of.

“Why is this all wrong?” he practically whispered after a couple of minutes, even though he knew: There were all the other women. His reputation and the scandals he had caused over the years were enough to scare most. The persistent matchmaking mamas of the ton certainly did not entertain the idea of their daughters marrying him because he would make a great husband, but primarily because of his family connections and the fact that he owned Farleigh Cottage. Some might cling to the hope that reformed rakes made the best husbands, but also seemed to doubt that their daughters would be the ones to reform him. Thus, he could not exactly fault Cecilia, but it made his chest constrict that she would dismiss him completely. He had thought that she at least enjoyed his company.

Cecilia slowly removed her hands from her face and looked at him with wide, gray eyes. There was an apprehension in them. Her full raspberry-colored lips parted slightly as if she was about to speak but then decided against it. Her gaze did not waver though as she looked into his eyes.

“You do not want a wife,” she finally stated, slowly as if wishing that he would interrupt her while she was speaking.

“I...” Archie began, but then stopped. No, he had never wanted a wife. Even though his parents, three eldest siblings and several of his friends were happily married and seemed to benefit from it, he had never believed that it would be for him. Marriage was hardship and compromise. But with Cecilia... it would not be as bad, he figured. “I want to do what is right,” he told her.

Cecilia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, which looked a bit ridiculous as she was lying down.

“What’s right? What is right would have been for you to...” she stopped, bit her lip, and looked at the ceiling. “There has to be another way out of this predicament,” she then whispered, and he could hear how her voice vibrated with emotion.

Archie’s chest hurt and for the first time he wanted to take a crying woman that he was not related to into his arms and comfort her instead of staying as far away from her as possible.

“There is no other way. It is my duty as a gentleman to marry you...”

“Duty,” Cecilia snapped and sat up. It brought her face much too close to his and Archie moved to the edge of the settee sitting beside her feet instead of her hip.

“Yes, duty,” Archie snapped back, feeling irritation starting to boil inside of him. Surely, she was not that naïve. And he was not such a poor match. He would be able to provide for her, perhaps not the same way an earl would, but most sufficiently indeed. “Is the concept of my wanting to do my duty by you such a strange notion?”

Cecilia’s mouth opened and closed again without a word coming out. Her arms were crossed once more, and her lower lip shot out in a pout. He could see different emotions cross her face, one of them definitely annoyance, another one anger, some he was not certain what was exactly.

“You were prepared to marry Lambourn – and don’t try to fool me into thinking that it was a love match. Anyone looking at the two of you could see that it was not,” Archie snapped.

Cecilia uncrossed her arms and let them fall to her lap. She was looking at them when she said in a very small voice:

“That was different.”

“How?” Archie demanded. Now it was his turn to cross his arms over his chest.

Cecilia still did not meet his eyes as she spoke.