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“Yes. I saw his carriage on Oxford Street.”
“Well, I do not see how that means…”
“He was purchasing something,” he said irritably. A gift for Demeter, the driver said. Blake had to force himself not to curl a fist. Of course Demeter deserved gifts—hundreds of them if not thousands, but not from Foster.
She held up a hand. “Why does that mean he wishes to ask me to marry him? Blake, you are making little sense.”
“He’s on his way. The driver said so.”
Creases furrowed her brow. “To ask me to marry him?”
“I believe so.”
“You believe so or you know so?”
“My instincts—”
“Blake, did your instincts also say that I might be desperate enough to say yes to a man I barely know? A man we have been investigating? A man who might well be a dangerous person?”
“Well...” He glanced out of the window when he spotted a carriage roll by. There was no mistaking his cousin’s new carriage. The wings beat harder in his chest, creating a full-blown tempest. Foster couldn’t have her. No man could. He...
He what? He’d kissed her twice. A foolish move indeed. Jacob Blake did not kiss innocent duke’s daughters. But it did not mean anything. He could hardly lay claim to her future nor her decisions.
“I see.”
He shifted his attention to her. She saw what? That he was a man in panic? Or that he had little idea quite what he’d intended when he marched in here to make demands of her. All he knew was he could not bear it if there was even the tiniest chance she might say yes.
Her gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes briefly. Now he saw.
What an ass.
“Demeter...” He took a few steps closer. “I did not mean—”
She lifted her chin. Her eyes were dim, as though he had put out the light in them. Now all he wanted to do was bring it back, preferably by kissing her. That’s when her face lit the most, warmed from within from his kisses.
“I think you did,” she said softly. “You think me a desperate spinster who would say yes to such a man.”
It wasn’t the truth. Not at all. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might say yes out of some need to marry before it was too late. Now he realized what a truly terrible person he’d been. He’d never asked what she wanted from life, never questioned why she might do all the things she did or whether she did indeed want to settle one day and raise children—children who would know doubt follow in their mother’s footsteps and be as ridiculously smart and sneaky. All the time they’d spent together recently, and he did not know enough.
He wanted to know more.
Unfortunately, if he was to ever get to know her better, he would have to admit that his fear she’d say yes to his cousin was nothing to do with her situation and everything to do with his.
He simply could not stand the thought of another man having her. He’d laugh aloud if he did not think Demeter would assume the laughter was directed at her. What right did he have to claim her? Since when did he ever feel jealousy?
The door rang and his throat tightened.
Since today apparently.
He didn’t look away from Demeter, not even when he heard the door open behind him and footsteps enter. Her gaze darted behind him and before he could quite fathom what he had done, he was on one knee.
Her eyes widened and he heard a gasp from behind him which he assumed was Aunt Sarah, given the pitch. Before his cousin could utter a word, he blurted the one question he never thought he’d say in his life.
“Lady Demeter, will you marry me?”
She put a hand to her mouth. His breath was loud in his ears. Simon the cat started licking a leg from his position on the windowsill and the sound of his little slurps were uncommonly loud. Time might well have stopped, he could not be certain. Nor could he scrabble through his faded thoughts. They were like mud—thick and hard to push through. He’d gone on instinct, his knee hitting the hard floor before he’d even thought through the action.
“Demeter?” Aunt Sarah urged from behind him, her voice close.
