Page 60 of The Lady’s No Angel

“It is,” she agreed, and it was, but despite everything, she was finding it hard to summon the triumph she had expected to feel at this moment. Not when she had the strangest notion that she had already found the most valuable treasure she would ever come close to in her life but was powerless to claim it.

The gallows came back into view, its stark simplicity more dreadful than ever in the moonlight.

Angel jumped down from the gig and tied up the pony before going to the cart where Leo was unloading the shovels.

“Light the lanterns, Angel, love,” Leo said, the easy endearment making her throat tighten.

Angel reached into her pocket and drew out the tinderbox. “You do it, please,” she said, thrusting it into Milly’s hand. “The wretched thing doesn’t like me.”

Milly laughed but didn’t argue and set about her task.

Once the lamps were lit and the shovels in hand, Leo turned back to Toby.

“Right, my lad. You get some shuteye, and we’ll shout you the moment we find anything.”

Toby swallowed and looked around him, pulling the blanket tighter.

“How about if I stay with you?” Milly offered, before the young man could admit he was scared to death at the idea of being left alone in the dark. “I’m a bit worn out myself,” she added, smiling at Angel and giving her a surreptitious wink.

“Oh. Well. If you like,” Toby replied with a shrug, though his relief was palpable.

“Good luck!” Milly called out to them as they took the lamps and trudged back across the heath.

It took them a deal of marching up and down and cursing before they found the rose bush again, but finally they set down the lamps.

“I’ll start,” Leo offered.

“I can dig,” Angel retorted, somewhat indignant at being left out.

He laughed at that and regarded her, leaning on the shovel, his hazel eyes glinting with affection. Oh, Lord, how could she stand it? How could she endure the next minutes, hours, knowing she must make him go away, when he stood there, looking so handsome and strong, and so wonderfully near and—and she would run mad.

“My darling girl. I believe you can do anything you put your mind to.”

Angel swallowed down a surge of misery so overwhelming that for a moment she could not speak.

“Don’t,” she managed, forcing the tide of sorrow down where it sat like a lump of ice in her belly. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” he asked, all innocence.

“Don’t make out like—like I mean something to you,” she said, reaching for anger, for it was the only thing that might give her the strength to get through this.

“Why not?” he asked, his expression so open and guileless it hurt to look at him. “When you mean everything.”

Angel gasped, her shock so intense she almost dropped the shovel.

“I’ll not be your mistress,” she said, putting up her chin. There. She’d said it. No more beating about the bush. “I kn-know I’ve not acted like a-a proper lady, but I’m no lightskirt. So, if you’re thinking of offering me a slip on the shoulder, you can just—”

“Marry me.”

“—think again. What did you say?”

“Marry me.”

The words hung in the air between them, too extraordinary for her to take in. Angel could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed. She couldn’t believe it. Why? Why would he—?

“Are you mad? Do you need money? Is that it? Are you running from a debt collector?” she demanded suspiciously. Perhaps, after all, he wanted the treasure. It didn’t mean he didn’t like her too, but she’d rather know the truth.

He laughed and shook his head. “Good lord, Angel. If you knew how many women have tried to get me to say those words, through fair means or foul, and here you are acting like I’m a fortune hunter. I don’t need the money, love. I’m rather plump in the pocket if you want the truth. But I appreciate your appalling candour more than you will ever know. If I wasn’t already besotted, I think that would do it.”