Page 74 of How to Best a Marquess

Chapter Twenty-One

Ellie woke in her own bed the next day.

The previous night’s events came flooding back. Hugh had asked her to marry him.

His wife.

Years ago, she would have given her two front teeth to have him propose. But things were different now. He’d caught her as she’d proceeded to smuggle the battered wife of a baron out of the city.

She’d been shocked to discover Hugh in Violet’s coach. In that instant, she’d believed all was lost, and she’d feared Hugh would have ordered the driver of the coach to turn around and deliver Lady Willoughby straight to her husband.

But he hadn’t.

He’d helped them instead.

Then they’d made love in his library. Shockingly, he hadn’t insisted she stop her work. Rather, he’d said she’d have his support. But if she agreed to be his marchioness, then she’d have to cease her dealings with Violet Lasher and tell him everything. Could she trust him?

Another nagging question surfaced in her mind. Why did he propose? And why now? Ian was to make a decision regarding the Raven Club within days. Her suspicious nature made her question the timing of Hugh’s offer. Did Hugh fear losing the club, or did he fear losing her?

His words returned to her in a rush.

We desire each other. It is more than most couples could wish for. You can have everything. My title. My wealth.

Not his heart.

Could she marry him, knowing she didn’t fully possess his heart?

No, he would seek another. A lover. She barely survived finding him kiss Isabelle years ago. She’d never survive him having an affair or taking a mistress, and that would certainly happen if he felt obliged to marry her to protect her or to gain the club. Could she take that risk?

He’d told her to think over his proposal, but she remained uncertain.

The only thing she knew for certain was that no man would ever be able to compare with Hugh. Her body still thrummed from the experience of being with him. She’d felt protected and cherished, feelings she’d never believed possible with Hugh. She’d thought it was a fantasy—she didn’t belong to him, and he certainly didn’t belong to her. She’d told him it was the last time they would be together, yet she felt a deep regret that she’d never know him intimately again.

The problem was her feelings were changing for him. The past could not be altered, his stubbornness and belief that he’d acted to protect her when she was young could not be changed. But she knew her own weaknesses, her faults, and that she struggled with forgiveness. It was not in her nature to forget or forgive.

Or to trust.

Maybe it was time to forgive Hugh. Maybe, just maybe, she did trust him when he agreed not to tell her brother about her activities with Violet Lasher. And even more shocking, she did trust him when he said he wouldn’t stop her but would help her.

The challenge over the Raven Club was almost decided. Could she wait to learn the result before telling him her answer to his proposal? Would he change his mind if he lost?

She pulled the coverlet aside and sat on the edge of the bed. She rang for her maid, dressed quickly, and headed for the breakfast room. The delicious smell of fried bacon wafted to her, and her stomach growled. She was famished. When was the last time she’d eaten?

Ian was already seated with a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast before him.

“Good morning,” Ian said.

“That smells delicious,” Ellie said as she took a plate and helped herself to a heaping portion of eggs and bacon from the sideboard. She joined her brother at the table.

“You slept late,” Ian said.

Ellie’s fork halted in midair, and her breath squeezed in her chest. “If you must know, I oversaw the opening of the women’s gambling room.”

Ian looked at her. “Was Brooks there to help you?”

“Of course.”

Brooks had been busy on the main casino floor, but she didn’t need to clarify. She had hired sufficient workers and staff to help run the place when she’d departed with Lady Willoughby. It hadn’t been ideal to smuggle Samantha out of London on the opening night, but Ellie’d had little choice. Once Baron Willoughby had found his wife’s mask, time had been of the essence.