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Blake blinked a few times. Love? He didn’t even know what the word meant. He’d never heard it uttered from his father nor his mother. He was fairly certain he didn’t knowhowto love, let alonebein love.
And, yes, there’d been a woman or two who had uttered the word but it never meant anything. It was in the throes of passion or because they hoped to tame him. None of them really knew him, so how could they love him?
How could he love another? How could he love Demeter?
He smirked. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” Ashford motioned to the book that still sat at an angle in the bookcase as though mocking him.
“It’s a book, Ashford.”
“And an engagement, and an increasing amount of time spent with Demeter.”
“We’re investigating my cousin,” Blake snapped. “There is no love there. Not from me and I’m certain not from her.”
“Well, she is far too sensible to fall in love with a rake,” Ashford admitted.
Blake tried to ignore the cold dart of misery the declaration sent through him.
“Anyway, investigating? What does that even mean?”
With a deep breath, Blake explained how he’d wanted to use Demeter’s skills with lipreading, forgoing exactly how he’d discovered the skill, and his doubts about his cousin. He even explained the engagement.
Furrows appeared between Ashford’s brows for some time and the man stared at the glossy tabletop while carriages rolled past the front of the house, their wheels clacking on the dry road. It gave him too much time to ponder the word.Thatword. The one that kept repeating with the clack clack.
Love, love, love, love.
Damned Ashford. He did not love Demeter.
“You’ve certainly wrapped her up in your mess good and tight have you not?” Ashford finally said.
“I’ll release her from it, do not worry.”
A half-smile quirked his friend’s lips. “Will you, though?”
“Of course,” Blake replied swiftly, ignoring the doubt beating its drum in his heart. He didn’t love her, and he’d let her go. Love and marriage were decidedly not on the cards for infamous rake Jacob Blake.
Chapter Twenty-One
If Demeter had to smile and thank another person for their congratulations, she might well scream.
Fine, she probably wouldn’t. Screaming and drawing attention was not exactly something she was wont to do. But she might run away and hide somewhere. There had to be a spot somewhere where she and Blake would not draw attention.
She scanned the park. Was it just her, or had everyone in Society decided that, despite the cloudy day and slight breeze, they would go for an afternoon stroll? Her cheeks hurt from smiling and her teeth ached from being clenched. If she did not clamp them tightly together, however, she feared the truth would burst from her, especially when someone next gave her that odd look as though they could not fathom why Blake would propose to her.
Truthfully, she could not fathom it either. His reasoning had been sound, she supposed, but it annoyed her he really thought her capable of falling into the arms of the first man who asked.
She blew out a breath and focused on Ernest as he trotted along beside her. That confused her, too. Not the dog exactly but why Blake had taken it in and essentially told her he was hers. It was the kindest, sweetest act anyone had ever done for her. And it made no sense.
Blakemade no sense.
What she’d always known about Blake was being eroded, like a cliff edge being beaten by a storm. He was a rake, he was charming, he cared for little else other than his own pleasure. Those facts were caught up in the tempest of her mind and were being tossed around.
Well, he was a rake and charming but she didn’t know there were these other facets. Like how much he cared for his aunt, or how soft and compassionate he could be with a dog. Or how he made her feel like more than a wallflower with a stutter.
She was beginning to conclude the man she’d fallen in love with didn’t really exist. The trouble was, the man she had come to know was far more appealing than whoever she’d thought him to be.
“Why are you scowling, Demeter?”
