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‘That was for a wager,’ he said. ‘And leave Miss Waverley out of it. She...’
‘She what? Is worth a dozen of me, is that what you were going to say?’
‘No. But perhaps it is the truth. My God, it would serve Lord Deben right if you did accept him.’
‘Serve...him...right?’
While the two of them had been bickering, Lord Deben had remained very quiet. In fact, everyone in the room had gone very quiet, as though they were taking the greatest care not to remind those involved in the brangle of their presence. At one point Lady Twining had clambered on to the dais, opened and closed her mouth, reached out her hand imploringly, then pulled it back to her chest. And instead of saying anything, she was just standing there, wringing her hands. For there was nothing, in any of the books of etiquette, that covered interrupting a lovers’ quarrel that had turned into a marriage proposal from an earl in the middle of what was supposed to have been a poetry reading.
Henrietta wrenched herself out of Richard’s grip, turning to look at Lord Deben, to gauge his reaction. Did he look like a man who was waiting for the axe to fall? Did he look as though he dreaded what she might say next?
No. He looked completely calm.
For a second.
Just until he smiled at her. A lazy, devilish sort of smile that seemed to be daring her to do her worst.
Chapter Thirteen
Henrietta’s heart began to beat very fast. He’d said nothing on earth would have induced him to marry Miss Waverley. And she was sure nothing would pressure him into marrying anyone, if he didn’t want to. So the fact that he was kneeling at her feet, with that devilishly teasing grin on his face, must mean that he...that he...oh, dare she hope that he actually wanted to marry her?
He’d told her he would have to marry one day. That it was part of his duty. But from the way he’d confided in her, she’d assumed he’d already ruled her out.
But then just now he’d said that while he’d been away from town he’d missed her.
And he’d promised her, once, that he would never lie to her.
Did that mean he’d come to the conclusion that since he had to marry somebody, and he got on with her as much as he was ever likely to get on with any woman, he thought they could make a go of it?
Or had this proposal been a spur-of-the-moment thing? Was he just acting out of some fit of gallantry because Richard had been so insulting?
Gallantry? She almost laughed out loud. There was nobody less likely to indulge in a fit of gallantry than Lord Deben. And he never did anything on the spur of the moment. He laid careful plans. After giving everything a lot of thought.
If he really meant this proposal...
But then, supposing he didn’t? Supposing he felt secure in the knowledge she would turn him down?
His kneeling at her feet like this, expecting a rebuff, would therefore be a very dramatic act of...well, what, exactly?
Perhaps he still felt he was in her debt. He had gone to absurd lengths to repay her for coming to his rescue on the terrace in the first place. Or perhaps this was his way of repaying her for...well, for having so very nearly ruined her, that night on the sofa at the Swaffhams’ ball. Could he be suffering from a guilty conscience? He had looked rather tortured at one point that night. And again, earlier, when she said his movements were of no interest to her. Perhaps this was his way of offering her the chance to have her revenge upon him.
She could do so very easily by turning him down. It would be the talk of the town. How he had gone down on one knee at Lady Twining’s literary evening, for all to see, and claimed his heart beat only for her. He was laying his pride, his future, and his reputation as a consummate lover on the line here. If Lady Carelyon were here, she was sure she would be urging Henrietta to grind his pride into the dust.
If she had wanted to take revenge for the liberties he’d taken, and the harsh way he’d repudiated her afterwards, now was the time to do it.
But then, he was giving her the chance to make this anything she wanted it to be. If she refused him, she would have revenge on him. If she accepted him, she would have revenge on Richard for his neglect, and then the litany of insults he’d just heaped on her head. If she were to repudiate them both, and stalk out of the room with her nose in the air, she would not only have paid them both back, but would become a minor celebrity. Everyone would be talking about the girl over whom two men had practically come to blows at what was supposed to have been an elegant, intellectual evening held in aid of a worthy cause.
