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There was a moment when her gaze flew up to meet his and he couldn’t read her thoughts. A cold arrow of fear shot through him at the idea that he’d been mistaken, that she hadn’t really agreed—
“All right.”
He might not have heard it if he hadn’t been watching her face. Jubilation expanded within him until he thought he might have to shout aloud. But instead he forced himself to release her, then gently turned her around while he brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt and she fished a tissue out of her purse for him to wipe her lipstick from his lips.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. “The sooner we can get home to Phoenix, the better.”
It was a little like facing a firing squad, she thought, as Rafe opened the double doors. She’d met every one of the three people in the room many times before. But you weren’t pregnant and unmarried, said the little voice inside her head that still shamed her from time to time.
The Thorton family stood as she preceded Rafe into the room. Though not a one remarked on her pregnant state, she knew it was obvious in the simple wool maternity suit she’d worn, and she felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment at the slight widening of their eyes before they all hastily dragged their gazes to her face.
Training kicked in and she went from one to another, exchanging a small word with each person as Rafe followed behind her. As they approached his father, she caught a flash of deep emotion in the older man’s gaze as he looked at his eldest son. But in an instant it was gone, and, after greeting her, the Grand Duke turned to Rafe with a stern cordiality so remote he could have been addressing a peer whom he barely knew.
“Welcome home, Raphael.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Rafe didn’t bother to add any small talk to ease them past the moment, and when she glanced at him, the muscle working in his jaw warned her just how difficult this was for him. Quickly she stepped into the breach.
“My father says you’ve got an exceptional colt out of the mare you bred to his stallion,” she said. Then she blushed as she realized breeding practices probably weren’t the wisest topic of conversation under the circumstances.
But Victor Thorton only nodded and smiled at her. “Yes, indeed. The last time we bred them, we got that pretty little filly who has gone on to win every two-year-old race out there. Your father kept that one, and I’m hoping this colt will be as superb a piece of horseflesh.”
They moved past him then to where the Grand Duchess of Thortonburg stood beside the wingback chair in which she’d been sitting doing needlework before they arrived.
“Your Grace.” Elizabeth touched her cheek to the older woman’s, noting the still-beautiful skin and, more importantly, the open warmth in her green eyes as she gazed at her son. “Thank you for receiving me.”
“It’s my pleasure, dear.” The Grand Duchess spoke to Elizabeth, but her hungry eyes barely left her son. As Elizabeth moved aside, the slender woman stretched up to enfold her eldest child in her arms. “Oh, Raphael, it’s good to have you home. You’ve been missed.”
“It’s only a visit, Mother.” Again, Rafe was stiff and abrupt, though Elizabeth noticed his arms tightened for a long moment about his mother’s slender frame.
“One we hope you’ll repeat often.” The Grand Duchess smiled serenely, but Elizabeth saw the hurt she couldn’t hide.
“And Roland.” Elizabeth held out both hands to the waiting man. A year younger than she, they’d attended balls and house parties and all manner of things with the same crowd of young aristocrats.
“Princess Elizabeth. It’s been too long.” Roland drew her close and kissed both cheeks.
“Hmm.” Elizabeth drew back and considered. “Nearly four months. The last time I saw you, you’d been unseated during a hunt and landed in a mudhole as I recall.”
Roland gave her a mock-scowl, then grinned and her heart stuttered at the resemblance to his brother. “You have a good memory. Too good.” He turned to his older brother with his hand extended. “Welcome home, Raphael.”
“Thank you.” Rafe took the outstretched hand and the brothers shook.
An awkward silence fell. It was as if these people didn’t know how to make small talk with each other, she thought. Then she realized that was probably the literal truth. Rafe had lived at schools most of his life. Any attempt at “catchup” conversations would be severely limited because they simply didn’t know each other well. Comparing them to her own boisterous, warm, loving family, she felt her heart constrict. No wonder Rafe had trouble allowing himself to feel.
As the silence grew oppressive, she opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Rafe forestalled her by taking her hand in his and holding up the engagement ring he’d given her.
In a curiously formal tone, he said, “Father, Mother, Roland, we have an announcement to make.” He paused for a moment and looked down at her, holding her gaze with his as he said, “Elizabeth has agreed to do me the honor of becoming my wife. We’ll be married in Wynborough in two weeks.”
Two weeks? Suddenly time seemed to be rushing past.
He must have read the shock in her eyes because he smiled then, a small, private smile just for her before turning back to his family. “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a bit of a need for haste,” he added wryly.
She was blushing, she knew she was and she made a face at him. Darn the man for pointing out something that didn’t need any additional notice.
“Well!” The Grand Duke’s tone was too loud, too enthusiastic. “That’s wonderful news, Raphael. Congratulations to you both.”
The Grand Duchess looked happy but hesitant. “I wasn’t aware that you two had ever met,” she said.
