Page 47 of Snowed In with the Jilted Duke

He knelt next to her chair. “To be sure of your feelings. Of mine. I did not want to trap you into a marriage you might not want merely because I could demand it.”

She shook her head to shake his words away. They were everything she wanted him to say, and that was why she could not trust them.

“I understand why we must marry. You and Papa and my mother and your grandmother have all made it very clear that it is the most sensible, rational thing we can do. There is no need to pretend otherwise.”

“So you resent me for being sensible and rational?”

She thought it over. “I suppose so. Yes.”

Oliver nodded—a short, sharp, final sort of nod—and then got to his feet. Pippa toyed with a piece of toast, knowing he would exit the room now that he knew he need not pretend with her anymore.

Without warning, he bent to grab Pippa around the waist and sling her over his shoulder as she shrieked in outrage, the shock breaking through the ice that encased her.

She landed across his back with a thump that nearly knocked the breath out of her. "What are you doing? Put me down immediately!"

“I’ve decided not to be sensible or rational anymore. We’re off to Gretna Green to be married.”

"We what?"

Ignoring her struggles, Oliver walked steadily through the corridor towards the front door, the servants gaping at both of them as he passed. Pippa tried to kick, but he easily pinned her legs at the knees and she feared falling off if she wriggled too much.

The door to the Great Saloon opened and the dowager duchess raised an imperious hand as she was wheeled forward by a wide-eyed Cousin Yardley.

Oliver paused and turned to bow courteously to his grandmother, causing Pippa to shriek and claw at his jacket to avoid being dropped.

"Where are you off to, Kendal?" his grandmother called out.

"Gretna Green."

"About time. Young people today are so indecisive."

Pippa shrieked again. To her shock, Oliver swatted her lightly on the bottom.

"No use in protesting now. They're all against you."

She looked up with an effort and saw the rest of the family crowding behind the dowager and into the entryway, gaping at her slung over Oliver's shoulder.

“Good luck,” one of the male cousins shouted from the rear of the crowd, and they all burst into laughs and applause. She slumped back down against his back, covering her face with a groan.

"We are going to be the talk of London."

"I know," Oliver said with a cheerfulness that did not suit this kidnapping. He re-settled her on his shoulder and strode for the front door.

"I hate you."

"I know."

The worst part was the secret bubble of satisfaction under her anger. Satisfaction that, at last, this was all for her, Pippa. Not her sister. Not her pretending to be her sister.

All for her.

The hope that surged back with the thought was terrifying.

Frustrated, Pippa thumped Oliver’s back. “Put me down.”

“Not until we’re on our way.”

Peering around, she watched the traveling carriage pull up with a flourish, a footman dashing to open the door and release the steps as Oliver charged inside and placed her onto the seat. The footman slammed the door behind them.