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“I’m not engaged.”
“Not yet.”
Her gaze searched his. “You mean—”
“That this is my most terrible way of proposing, yes.”
Oliver swore his heart stopped as she looked at the clock, running her fingers lovingly over the broken back and the cracked glass, turning it in her hand to view every part of it. Finally, she looked up at him.
“You want to marry me?” she said softly.
“I’m certainly not making myself an utter fool for any other reason.”
A smile flickered upon her lips. “That’s funny.”
“It doesn’t feel funny.”
“No, what I mean is...” Eleanor leaned in closely. “I had thought that I might suggest I be your mistress.”
“Mistress?” Oliver choked on the word. “You would risk gossip and ruin to be my mistress?”
“I know you loathe the idea of marriage and I do not blame you but, Oliver, I cannot fathom not having you in my life.”
Shaking his head slowly, he eyed the remarkable woman. “I could be a friend to you for life, if you wish.”
“I want more than that,” she admitted, staring down at the clock again.
“And I want more than that too.”
Eleanor head shot up. “Then we shall do it? I shall be your...” She lowered her voice. “Lover?”
He nodded. “You will be. And you’ll be my friend too.” He took her hand and looped his fingers through hers, aware nosy Lady Hawksley was watching closely and would be reporting back to his mother anytime soon. “You’ll also be my wife too,” he told Eleanor.
“Oliver, you do not have to...”
“I damned well do,” he muttered. “I’ll go mad if I do not.” He smiled. “I love you, Ellie. I want you to be my wife, not just some lover I visit every now and then. I want to wake with you and protect you from addled redheaded women and love you and give you all the broken clocks in the world.”
“A broken clock,” he heard Lady Hawksley mutter to a friend. “Why on earth has he given her a broken clock?”
Eleanor grinned, ignoring the old woman. “I’d like that very much too.”
He stared at her for a few moments. “Truly?”
“Oh, yes.”
Unable to resist and uncaring for their audience, he tucked her close and buried his nose into the sweetly scented crook of her neck, her soft curls touching the side of his face. He heard Lady Hawksley gasp.
“I think we are causing a scandal,” Eleanor murmured. “Oliver, do you think you should be embracing me so?”
“Oh yes,” he said. “Most certainly.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“He gave you a broken clock as an engagement present?”
Eleanor’s lips curved at Cassie’s bemused expression, and she nodded.
“Luke gave me a bracelet,” her sister murmured.
