Page 42 of 10 Things I Hate About the Earl

“Indeed, Miss Locke, I am in fine fettle and eager for our ride.” He smiled, his eyes deepening to near black.

“Yes, yes, as am I.” She shot up out of the chair, wobbling as dizziness overtook her.

“Be careful, my dear, I beg of you.” Lord Haversham clutched her arm, steadying her even as he made her heart beat faster. “Shall we go?”

Kate nodded and pulled on her gloves, regretfully. She’d no longer be able to look forward to the touch of his skin on her hand.

Unless he kissed her. Or took her to his bed again.

She shivered and tried to breathe slowly. Clutching his arm, she allowed him to lead her from the room and out to his curricle, trying to put those thoughts out of her mind. Although once they were truly betrothed, well, they’d already anticipated their wedding night. What did it matter what they did now?

Marcus settled her into the curricle, took his place, and started the team. They quickly reached Hyde Park, as usual a bit earlier than the fashionable crowd.

“We have almost worn our own path through the park, we’ve been here so often these past weeks,” she said, grasping her hands together as if seizing a lifeline.

“I believe you are correct, my dear.” He chuckled. “So I don’t think another time will do any more damage to the grass.” He swung the team left, toward the tree that had become their favorite place to drive. Once he’d pulled them to a halt, Marcus jumped out and fastened the reins to a nearby bush.

“Where is your tiger?” Kate hadn’t realized the young groom wasn’t riding behind them.

“I thought today should be just us two.” He took her hand and helped her to the ground then wound her arm through his and led her under the tall oak tree, the upper branches rustling in the gentle breeze.

Goodness, this truly was it. Kate glanced around, but this part of the park was entirely deserted. She turned her gaze on Marcus, who grinned at her, took her hand, then fell to one knee.

“Miss Locke.”

Heart racing, all Kate could do was stare straight at him. He was going to do it. He was going to propose. A thousand thoughts shot through her head, but not one could she snag to steady her.

“I think you have noticed my attentions recently have been most decidedly fixed on you.” Marcus squeezed her hand. “And if you have not noticed, I do not know where your mind has been.”

His quip seemed to have broken the spell. “Oh, I have noticed, my lord. Most particularly when we toured your house.”

“Good. So you have been paying attention.” His eyes twinkled at her. “And you have given me some hope that you are not inclined to reject me.”

“No.”

His eyebrows flew upward. “No?”

“I mean, yes.” What did she mean? Why did he have to phrase it in such a convoluted manner? That was so like Haversham. “I mean no, I am not inclined to reject your attentions.”

He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Then I beg of you, Miss Locke, put me out of my misery and make me the happiest man in the world by consenting to become my wife.”

“Oh.” Her breath came in a little squeaking gasp. He had proposed. Her nemesis, the Earl of Haversham, had proposed to her. Would the sky fall next?

He gazed back, his grin widening. “You can give me an answer at your earliest convenience, Miss Locke. Or if you prefer, I can guess.” He rose and slid his hand up to cup the back of her head, guiding her mouth closer to his. “Shall I see if the cat’s got your tongue?” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers.

“Yes, please.” Kate lifted her lips to his, melting into him as he crushed her against his chest. The strong arms she remembered so well enfolded her, and she gave herself up oh-so-willingly to his caresses. If anyone drove by them now, they would be thoroughly scandalized.

He broke the kiss and smiled at her, making her stomach flip. That smile would make a saint beg to be a sinner. “Was that your answer?”

“What was the question?” She was either foxed or addlepated.

“Will you marry me?”

“Oh. Yes.” Pinpricks of heat burst out all over her. Had anyone told her at the beginning of the Season she’d answer him so, she’d have sent them to Bedlam. Yet there was no other answer she wanted to give. She wanted to marry him more than anything else in the world, be with him always, feel the touch of his hand, his kiss, his body pressed against hers.

As though the sun had broken through a dense fog, his face glowed, his amiable grin stretching from one side of his face to the other. “Are you quite sure, Miss Locke?” The hope in his wide eyes smote her heart. “I would not wish it to be said I entrapped you in any way.”

“If anyone did the entrapping, it was me.”