Page 69
“Why was Woodward dressed as a groom?” Ella asked when Fiennes returned.
“One of the duke’s grooms was bribed to lend his livery to Woodward, which meant that Regina unknowingly brought Fulvia’s groom with her to the inn, which is next door to the Doctor’s Commons.”
“Where one buys marriage licenses,” Ella exclaimed.
“Exactly. Fulvia sent Woodward to the Commons, wearing the duke’s livery, to buy a blank license, which never would be sold to someone outside the nobility. Woodward, of course, said that he was acting on the part of His Grace.”
“Very clever,” Ella said. She really had underestimated Fulvia’s resourcefulness.
“Once Woodward returned to the inn, Fulvia disclosed her plan to Regina. Then she emerged from the inn, false groom in tow, and demanded to be taken to a chapel, and from there to her residence. The coachman obeyed.”
Ella digested that. “But why would he go anywhere without Lady Regina?”
“Her ladyship ordered him to take Fulvia anywhere she wished.”
Ella gasped. “Regina lied!”
Fiennes shrugged. “Are you surprised?”
“I suppose not. You never believed that Fulvia had fled to Gretna Green.”
“I have known your cousin long enough to respect her ability to get what she wants. Five days in a coach, even one belonging to a duke, would be uncomfortable and expensive. In any event, I don’t want to talk about your cousin, but about us. How do you feel about kissing on the street?”
Ella shook her head. “That’s worse than kissing in an innyard. No gentleman would do such a thing.”
“Luckily I’m no gentleman.” Fiennes’s mouth covered hers, his hands pulling her closer. Then he was devouring her, his kiss hungry and demanding.
When Ella was light-headed, blood surging through her veins like pure sunlight, he pulled back and said, “I’ve never truly asked you the question, Ella. Will you marry me?”
Time suspended. Ella stopped hearing carriages rumble by in the street, even the drumbeat of her own heart. Fiennes was looking down at her, cheekbones tight and eyes …
Anxious?
No. Not anxious. But his gaze wasn’t entirely confident. There wasn’t a trace of the insolent arrogance with which he normally sauntered through a room.
That look in his eyes now? It was hers, only for her.
She felt it instinctively, in her gut.
“Ella,” he whispered.
“I’m in love with you,” she said simply. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
BABIES!
Ella led the way up the last flight of stairs to her attic, clutching her ripped skirt so that not even a glimpse of her knee could be seen. She shouldn’t allow Fiennes into her room, not when she was in such a disheveled state.
Even given that they were getting married.
It wasn’t proper.
Fiennes was a gentleman. Still, in the carriage when she had unthinkingly allowed her skirt to fall open, he had given her bare knee a molten glance.
“You may greet Josephina, but then you must depart,” she said over her shoulder.
“I’m not leaving you alone in this house,” Fiennes stated. A lazy ferocity in his voice told her that there was no point in arguing. In truth, she had become slightly—just slightly—afraid of her uncle.
