Page 45 of The Rum and The Fox

“Lovely,” Keziah agreed, though she was staring at him and her voice sounded just a little impatient. “Now tell me what you’re up to.”

For a moment Ash toyed with the idea of denying he was up to anything, but if he wanted his cousin to marry them forthwith, he’d best have a bride who was prepared to say I do. That being the case, he turned back to Keziah and walked towards her, taking her hands in his.

“I know that you were not in the house last night, Keziah, and that you’re in trouble,” he said, deciding he’d best cut to the heart of it. “No,” he said, holding up his hand when she would have spoken. “I don’t need to know what you did, unless you feel you would like to tell me, in which case I’m happy to listen.” She shook her head, mute and miserable, and Ash took a step closer, his voice low and intimate now. “All I know is that … that whatever you did do, whatever trouble you are in, it was for my sake, and I will never be able to repay you.”

If he’d been in any doubt before, the pallor of her lovely face was enough to know how frightened she was, but at those words, she made an incredulous sound and shook her head.

“Oh, Ash, how can you say so?” she said, her blue eyes filling with tears as her voice trembled. “I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Ash replied, his tone brisk. “If you hadn’t been courageous enough to tell me of your father’s plans, he might have put me in the ground by now and have married my mother.”

“Oh, don’t,” she said, clutching at his arm as her voice broke. She shook her head, blinking away tears, clearly deeply distressed by the idea.

He dared to step a little closer, encouraged by the idea of his demise being so painful to her and wishing he were brave enough to steal a kiss. “I can’t help but realise that your life would be a deal easier if you’d not come to me,” he said, taking her hands in his and giving her a crooked smile. “So at least let me do what I can to rectify that.”

She looked up at him, and in her eyes was an enquiring look that suggested that for all her suspicions, she still wasn’t quite certain of what he was saying. He took a deep breath, feeling his heart hammering behind his ribs, and reminded himself severely that even if she agreed, it wouldn’t be because she loved him.

“Marry me, Keziah. Let me give you the protection of my name, let me give you a home and security, and anything else you want or need.”

She stared at him and Ash wished she’d say something, anything, as he didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on behind those beautiful eyes.

“I know you don’t love me,” he said, forcing another smile to his lips though the admission tore at his heart. “But we are friends, good friends, I think, and … well, there are worse ways to begin a marriage, after all.”

Her mouth opened and closed, but still she said nothing.

“I’ll not … I wouldn’t …” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He did not want to make this promise, the idea of it was a further stab to his heart, but he needed to gain her acceptance of the marriage. There would be time enough to hope after that, and even longer to regret if she never turned to him. “I will need an heir at some point, Keziah, you must know that is true, but … but I won’t interfere in your life other than that if … if that is what you want. You have my word.” The words were honest and he meant them, and he prayed she could not hear the ache in his heart as he gave her his promise.

He watched her throat working, a tear trembling on the edge of her lower lashes that spilled over, sliding down her cheek. He reached out and wiped it away with his thumb.

“Please don’t cry,” he begged, not knowing what to do. He wanted so badly to pull her into his arms, it was like a physical weight pressing against his chest. “Just say yes.”

She gave a little huff of laughter then and shook her head as more tears followed the first.

Ash held his breath.

“You are a deal too kind, your grace,” she said, her voice thick. “And I … I don’t know what to say.”

“Yes, you do,” he urged, willing her to consent with all his heart. “Please, Keziah. Let me do this for you.” Though he knew that was dishonest, it wasn’t just for her, it was for him, too. The old phrase, better half a loaf than none at all, drifted into his mind, and some sense of foreboding warned him that it wasn’t true, that it would be torture to have her by him and know she didn’t love him. Worse still if she were to take a lover and there was nothing he could do, he had promised, after all. But if it was all he could have, if it was the only way to keep her safe, then it would be enough.

It would have to be.

“Yes,” she said, startling him out of his thoughts and making him exclaim with delight. Keziah gave him a shy smile that seemed rather out of character, but nonetheless genuine for that. “Yes, thank you, Ash. I will.”

***

To say the Reverend George Barclay was surprised by the appearance of his noble cousin would have been something of an understatement.

He was a large man with a kindly, if florid, complexion and girth that suggested his housekeeper was a very fine cook. His eyes were rather protuberant and a very pale grey which, combined with a pair of overly fleshy lips, gave him a rather vacant, fishlike expression. This was sadly heightened by the awe in which he held the duke. Ash himself was driven to the ends of his patience as the Reverend fussed about him in an obsequious manner that was enough to make the most mild-mannered of men a little sharp.

He bore it stoically, however, and was finally able to get to the point of his visit.

George blinked, his glassy eyes bulging more than usual. “You … you want me to marry you?” he stammered, his large hands clutching at an overstuffed chair as he leaned forward.

“I do,” Ash replied with some force. “Immediately, if you would be so good, please, George.”

“B-but, your grace,” the man said, reaching for a handkerchief and wiping his face on it. “This is most irregular. Not that I’m not immensely honoured,” he rushed on, holding out a placating hand in case his grace took offence. “But have you considered … there will be talk …”

Ash bit back the desire to shout and demand that the fellow damn well get on with it, and instead plastered his most charming smile to his face.

“My dear, George,” he said, earning himself a beaming smile at the condescension of having used his given name. “I am aware that I am putting you in a difficult position,” he said with as much gravity as he could muster. “However, I could think of no one else that I would want to turn to in such a predicament as my dear cousin.”

Ash watched with amusement as the fellow seemed to puff up visibly as he laid it on thick. “The thing is, old fellow, that my grandmother don’t like the match above half. No fortune, you see,” he said, grasping Keziah’s hand and hoping she understood what he was doing. “And I’ve no doubt you’ve heard the gossip about her father.”

“Well, your grace,” the man began, looking anxious in case he should unwittingly cause offence. “Of course, one does hear things, but I never put much store by gossip, only … if Lady Margaret objects,” he added, looking suddenly terrified.

“I will, of course, ensure that Lady Margaret knows that I left you with no option but to do as I bid you.”

“And then there is the licence …”

“I have it here,” Ash replied, tapping the pocket that held the all-important paper with a smile.

George fell silent, having run through his list of excuses. He didn’t look in the least bit happy, but it was good enough for Ash.

“Excellent,” he said, getting to his feet. “Shall we proceed?”