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Dr. Stevens glanced down at herself. “Since Lady Berkshire has excellent vision, I can only surmise that she knows this.”
Since there was nothing else to do, Marcus studied this woman who claimed she was a doctor. Pretty in a passable way, she looked to be somewhere in her late twenties. She had a slender form, but before she hid herself under her coat, he noticed she had nice curves. “Why?”
She turned and looked at him, her brows raised. “Why what?”
“Why are you a doctor?”
“I’m sorry, but have we been introduced?”
Marcus felt like an idiot. He’d been so discombobulated by finding that Addie was about to give birth with no doctor there, and no husband pacing the floor, and her doctor was, of all things, a woman, that he overlooked the most basic of manners. “I apologize. I am Mr. Marcus Mallory, brother of Lady Berkshire.”
“Ah.” She smiled. “I understand the panic, then. No children of your own?”
He reared back. “No!”
Dr. Stevens laughed outright. A very melodious sound that put him at ease. “You make it sound like a disease.”
“Again, I must apologize. It’s just that this entire matter has unnerved me a tad.”
“Just a tad?”
He bent his head in acknowledgement. “Perhaps more.”
Once they pulled up to the house, he went out first and helped the doctor out. She hurried up the steps, and the door was immediately opened.
“Mallory, you don’t need to go looking for me.” Berkshire walked down the corridor as Marcus passed through the door.
“Thank God.” His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. After a minute of attempting to control his breathing and ward off the pending heart attack, he headed to the library and spoke over his shoulder. “Care to join me in a brandy?”
“No. I plan to stay alert, but you go ahead. I am going up to check on Michael. He would not have heard all the scurrying about, but he will still sense the unease.”
He barely finished one sip when Lizbeth entered the library and looked longingly at the brandy in his hand. Marcus held up the decanter. “Care for a drink?”
She sighed. “I would love one, but a sherry for me.”
They both took their glasses and sat on the settee, silence surrounding them for a few minutes.
“Before this all happened, you said on the way into the house that you wanted a word with me in the library.” Lizbeth took the last sip of her drink. The look she cast him almost looked like she wanted to throttle him.
“Yes.” Marcus placed his glass on the table and went down on one knee in front of Lizbeth and took her hand.
15
Lizbeth stared at Marcus as if he’d just grown another head. Why was he on his knees? Men didn’t usually offer their protection to their would-be mistress by kneeling before them. Although, in fairness she’d never before been in a position to have a man offer his protection.
Before she could ask the fool man what he was doing, he looked up at her. “Lizbeth, I care a great deal for you. There are so many things about you that I admire. I think you care for me in some way, and we do get on quite well.”
He paused and she still studied him, her previous annoyance turning to curiosity.
“What I want to ask is, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
“Your wife!” The blood all left her head and she began to see black dots before her eyes. This was the very last thing she’d expected him to say.
“Yes. I know I’ve said over the years that I had no intention of ever marrying, but ever since I met you, my mind has been slowly changing.”
Did the man not remember to whom he spoke? The one time he attempted to kiss her, she’d turned away. “While I am flattered by your offer, I must say there are certain aspects of marriage that I don’t believe I could
become comfortable with.”
