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Must she? Jack wished she wouldn’t, since he had no idea.
“I am referring to the incident at the stream.”
“Ah.” Did she wish to thank him for hauling her out of the water? There was no need, though he wouldn’t mind a bit of gratitude. Or any sort of emotion, really.
“Its scandalous nature,” she added.
She was a wretched rider. They’d been wet. The mud had stunk. She’d melted into his… “Oh.”
Harriet raised her eyebrows.
“Do you mean…?”
She appeared to lose patience with him. “The Terefords saw us kissing,” she said. Slowly, as if to a poor student.
They certainly had, although Jack hadn’t been aware of them at the time, or of anything really, except scorching desire.
“So, do you have something to say to me?” Now she sounded annoyed.
That he’d enjoyed it immensely? That he would like to do it again, right now? He didn’t think that was what she meant. “I don’t think they will say anything,” he tried.
“I beg your pardon?”
“They don’t seem the type to spread gossip.”
“What?”
“Quite down-to-earth people, for a duke and duchess.”
“You…” She seemed to grope for words. “Do girls in America kiss whomever they please?”
“No.” Well, some did, of course. But not those Miss Finch was likely to meet.
“I have been compromised.”
She said these words slowly, in such a strange tone that Jack couldn’t puzzle it out. Was she angry or bewildered or regretful?
“My reputation is damaged.”
Still the same odd voice, as if she repeated phrases from a lesson she’d disliked learning in the first place. “I hardly think…” Jack began.
“Unless you do the right thing.”
In one dazzling moment, he understood. It was like being handed a prize you’d been desperately longing for as a free gift. He couldn’t quite believe it. “Marry you, you mean?”
Miss Finch put a hand to her throat as if something was stuck there. She started to speak, stopped, then, jaw clenched, finally said, “Yes, Lord Ferrington.”
Why was she angry? Oh. He’d been obtuse, inept. He’d made her say it starkly aloud. He was a dolt. Nearly the barbarian his great-grandmother had named him. He had to make up for that. Jack slipped off the bench and sank to one knee on the gravel path. He took her hand. “Miss Finch, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
She stared at him. Her green eyes swam with emotion. It didn’t look like happiness. For a bewildered instant, Jack thought she was going to refuse. But she said, “Yes.”
Elation raced through Jack. He could hardly believe his luck. He surged to his feet, pulling her up to face him, and then into his arms. “You have made me the happiest of men,” he declared and kissed her.
At first, she was like a statue in his arms, stiff and wooden, nothing like she’d been on the riverbank. He held back and coaxed until her mouth softened under his. Jack pulled her closer, and at last she melted into his embrace, her body pliable under his hands, her fingers tangled in his hair. He was swept away on a flood of passion.
But all too soon, she pulled away. “We must go and tell my grandfather the news.”
He could think of so many more pleasant things to do. “Can’t we wait just a…?”
