AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“May we offer you tea, Lord Kerridge?” Mama asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
She nodded to Gibbs, who then left the drawing room. “Please, be seated.”
He sat in a chair directly opposite Louisa, and the five of them proceeded to chat about the usual things—the weather, the Parliamentary session, the weather . . . Louisa tried to concentrate on the conversation, all the while terrified one of her brothers would refer to her as Weezy (a terrible incarnation of her name, if there ever was one) or Lady Cumulus or any one of the myriad other embarrassing nicknames they had conferred upon her over her lifetime. Eventually, the tea arrived, and Mama poured for everyone. Louisa made a mental note that Lord Kerridge preferred his tea with cream and no sugar.
She managed to finish her tea without spilling on herself, in spite of the trembling of her hands. Afterward, her brothers eventually paid heed to the subtle gestures Mama had been giving them the entire time and excused themselves from the room.
“Lady Ashworth,” Lord Kerridge said when Anthony shut the door behind them, “would you mind very much if Lady Louisa and I had a few minutes alone together?”
Louisa’s heart was beating so loudly she was surprised no one else could hear it. She looked from her mother to the earl and back again to her mother, who rose gracefully to her feet and smiled. “Perhaps I shall go see if Lord Ashworth would like to take a break from meeting with his steward for a few moments. I am certain he would enjoy seeing you again.”
“Thank you, Lady Ashworth. A conversation with Lord Ashworth would fit with my plans nicely.” He turned his gaze on Louisa, giving her a steady, confident look that suggested he thought she was already his for the asking.
Was she? The earl was handsome and wealthy and heir to a duke—a matchmaking mama’s veritable dream—and he was about to propose marriage; Louisa was sure of it.
Was he her dream?
He must be. She enjoyed his company and found him attractive, and of all her suitors thus far, he was her favorite. She had even allowed him to kiss her. It had been a brief and respectful kiss, but despite its brevity, she’d been aware of his lips on hers, the smoothness of his freshly shaven skin, the scent of his cologne.
It had been her first kiss; she had no other experience with which to compare it. And it had been enjoyable. It had made her feel . . . something. A bit daring, perhaps. More womanly—which was an odd thing, really, since she’d always been aware of her female nature, even when she’d been a hoyden of a child, climbing trees and swimming and horseback riding and chasing after her infernal brothers.
The earl’s kiss had awakened a different sort of awareness in her—one she wasn’t completely capable of putting into words. Perhaps he would kiss her again today so she could understand it better.
She was reasonably certain she would enjoy it if he did.
“Louisa?”
She blinked. The earl was waiting for an answer to something with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m sorry. I must have been woolgathering.”
“So I surmised.” He smiled. He had a handsome smile—a perfect smile, like the heir to a duke should have. “May I join you on the sofa?” he asked.
“Oh, assuredly you may.” What a ninny she was being! She scooted over a bit, making more room for him on the sofa, and he sat by her, more closely than she’d expected, ratcheting up her heartbeat again. “Would you care for another biscuit?” she asked, unsure what else to say. “Or more tea? I can ring to have a fresh pot—”
“No, thank you.” He paused, and Louisa held her breath. “Louisa,” he said at last. “My dear, you must have noticed my particular attention to you over the past few weeks. I think I am not being presumptuous when I claim that you have received this attention favorably.”
“Yes,” was all she managed to say. She swallowed.
His eyebrows wrinkled. “Yes, I am being presumptuous?”
“No—I mean, yes, I have received your attentions favorably. And no, you are not being presumptuous.” If she wasn’t careful, she could end up being the first young lady in British history to botch a proposal.
His face smoothed with relief—and probably humor. Louisa chose not to analyze it too closely. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “If that is truly so, then . . .” He slipped off the sofa gracefully onto one knee, and Louisa stopped breathing altogether. “I would consider it the greatest honor if you would agree to be my countess and my future duchess.” He reached for her hand and turned it slowly, dropping the lightest of kisses on her wrist, of all places, completely catching her off-guard and making her tremble.
There. There it was. He’d proposed marriage. He was looking up at her, still on bended knee, his eyes dark with intensity, waiting . . .
“I will,” she said.
He smiled. “You have made me the happiest of men, my dear,” he answered. He rose and resumed his place next to her on the sofa. “I shall speak to your father, then. We will begin negotiations on the marriage settlement straightaway, if that pleases you.”
“Shouldn’t it?” she asked.
“I certainly hope it should. After I speak with your father this afternoon, I shall inform my solicitors and Aylesham’s to meet with the Ashworth solicitor. I don’t believe it will take too long to hammer out the arrangements. We should be able to announce the betrothal within a week or two.” He studied her face; Louisa had no idea what he saw there. “You’re disappointed.”
“Not at all. I’m very happy.”
“Good. I am too. Perhaps I may steal a kiss before we are intruded upon by your parents.”
