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‘Thank you.’ From somewhere, Nell found enough polite enthusiasm to reply. ‘That would be wonderful.’ And it would be. Comfort, respectability, control of her own destiny. A few weeks ago, she could have hoped for nothing better. It was the answer to her prayers.
And beside her sat the answer to her dreams, and he had said he loved her. He had said it still half-suspecting her. He had said it as though it had been dragged out of him, as though he was ashamed of himself for loving the child of a traitor and a murderer, a woman fallen so far below her true station in life. Do you think I want to fall in love with a milliner? he had demanded. Which meant both that it could well be true and that it was an impossible basis for a relationship.
Marcus could not marry her, even if he really did love her. The scandal would be terrible. She had no understanding of polite Society, of how the mills of gossip worked, but she could imagine the impact such a match would make.
She could never ask it of him, even if this fog of mystery and danger was no longer hanging over them. And she would not be his mistress, even though she ached for him, because to live every moment waiting for him to marry another, as he must, would be hell, pure and simple.
The men were talking, their voices a distant hum in her head. There was so much to come to terms with, so much to try to understand since that shot had rung out and shattered the fragile peace.
‘Nell?’
She looked up and saw them all watching her. ‘I am sorry. I was not attending.’
‘Understandable,’ Marcus said. ‘We were agreeing that you cannot go back to London alone, not with this mystery still unsolved. Whoever is behind this does not bear you any goodwill, that is plain. At the very least, they do not care what happens to you.
‘Come back with us when we return and we will decide on what kind of shop you want, set it up, employ staff, find you a maid. That will all take some time.’
‘And if we never find who is behind all this?’
‘Then your establishment will include a bodyguard,’ Marcus said flatly. ‘For as long as necessary.’
I don’t want a bodyguard, I want you, she thought, folding her hands tightly together to stop herself touching him, clinging to his hand. ‘What will you tell the others? Lady Narborough may not want me here when she knows who I am.’
‘She played with you as a baby, she would not spurn you now,’ the earl said, smiling at her. ‘I will tell her, but not the girls. Just now I told them that someone from the past, when I was working for the government, has returned with a grudge against me. There is no need to rake up more of that old tragedy than we need. It is sufficient to put them on their guard.’
‘I see,’ Nell murmured. ‘Thank you.’ Their voices seemed to come from a long way away. She felt numb, cold, tired and knew that beneath the numbness lay deep sadness, like water rushing beneath thick ice. They got up, leaving her. She was aware of the movement, of the door opening and closing, but she stayed in her chair, watching the leaping flames in the gate.
‘Nell?’
‘Oh!’ She spun round, heart in her mouth. ‘I thought you had all gone.’
‘No.’ Marcus smiled a little and came to lean an elbow on the mantle, looking down at her. At least he isn’t frowning, she thought vaguely, wondering why he was still there. ‘I do not think that telling a lady that you love her in the midst of a blazing row is very…sensible.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘It is not. Do you believe me now? Do you trust me?’
‘Yes. I believe you and I trust you. And, Nell, I do love you.’ She had never seen him so serious without that endearing frown. Almost, she could let herself believe him.
‘And whatever you do about that—except ignore it—will cause a scandal,’ she observed dispassionately, fighting the need to throw herself into his arms. ‘You cannot marry me. That would be shocking, especially with two sisters on the Marriage Mart. And if you made me your mistress and anyone found out who I was, then that would be almost as bad. Your loyalty might be called into question—to the Crown and to your father.’
‘Anyone questioning my loyalty will find themselves looking down the barrel of a pistol at dawn.’ His right hand flexed as he said it, and Nell shivered.
‘Wonderful, you will be killed because of me,’ she said.
‘I am an excellent shot,’ he countered. ‘What I aim at, I hit.’
‘Oh well, that is all right then,’ she retorted. ‘Do I stay behind to explain to your family why you have had to flee abroad having killed your man?’
‘Has anyone told you how infuriating you can be?’ Marcus demanded, coming upright in a sudden burst of temper.
‘Yes, you,’ Nell said, trying not to dwell on how magnificent he looked, towering over her, dark eyes blazing. ‘And I am not being infuriating now, merely right. You, on the other hand, are unused to anyone gainsaying you and are not, I have to point out, taking it very well.’
‘Then tell me how you feel, Nell.’ Marcus dropped to one knee with a suddenness that startled her. ‘Tell me how you feel about me. About us.’ He caught her hands in his. In the strong grip, she could feel a pulse thudding. Hers or his, she could not tell.
I love you, I love you… She only had to say it and all her good resolutions would be for nothing. He would not let her go and the outcome—whatever it was—could not be happy. Not for them, not for his family.
‘I desire you,’ she said, making herself meet his eyes. ‘I find, when you touch me, that morals and proper behaviour seem to count as nothing. You kiss me and I go up in flames—and that is wrong and cannot last. And you make me weak.’ She laughed—shakily, it was true—but her amusement brought a flash of answering humour into his eyes.
‘Good,’ Marcus said, his voice husky, leaning in to her.
