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Her words must have shocked him, for his head tilted forward quite as though it was about to roll right off his own shoulders. “Say that again?”
“You are free to cry off. I understand that you are only marrying me out of a sense of responsibility and honor, and I release you from said obligation.”
When he spoke next, his voice was a bit softer. “And what will become of you?” Not that his tone was overly soft, but it was not nearly so harsh. Indeed, it was the most tenderness she’d heard from him in their short acquaintance. Well, perhaps not quite as tender as when he’d sung to Adele.
Was he capable of the emotion, then? She had rather begun to wonder.
“I will return to the country with Father. After a time, the worst of the rumors will fade, and then I might be able to find a shopkeeper or farmer who will have me.” It was what she’d expected for herself ever since she was a little girl. Nevertheless, after seeing her sister and cousin make such respectable matches, the thought of returning to such expectations stung far worse than she had imagined it would.
He was watching her. Probably trying to decide if she’d come to play on his pity and convince himnotto cry off.
Dinah met his gaze with one of her own. “You may believe me, sir. I speak in full honesty.”
He still remained silent.
What did he want? A signed and dated letter of intent? “A marriage of strict convenience was never what I wished for, and I’m confident it’s not what you want either. Therefore, if you would rather—”
“No,” he said, cutting her off.
Despite her arguing, a small bit of relief skittered down her at his refusal to end their engagement. “Are you certain?”
He pushed off the wall, standing straight once again. “I’ll not leave you to such a future as that.” Reaching past her, he pulled the door open. “Now, let me see you home.”
“That is not necessary, sir.” That’s what had caused all the problems in the first place.
“I’m not going to let my intended ride through London in the middle of the night alone.”
Dinah walked back outside. Part of her resented his insistence that she couldn’t see herself home. Part of her was relieved he at least cared for her on some level. It would be far harder to marry a man who didn’t even care for her basic safety. “I only brought one mare,” she warned.
“Then we shall have to share a single saddle.”
She led him to the horse, and he helped her up first, lifting her onto the horse’s back as easily as he had only a few nights ago. Taking hold of the reins, he hoisted himself up behind her. It required a bit of shifting about, but they finally managed to make it work.
“This would be a lot easier if you hadn’t used a lady’s saddle,” he muttered as he turned the mare down the street.
“Most things are easier without a lady’s saddle,” Dinah commented back.
He only grunted.
They rode in silence, his nearness upending her sense of equilibrium. Lord Stanton was quite like a hedgehog. All pricks and spines. And yet, she’d seen a softness to him as well. When he’d sung to Adele. Then again tonight, at his refusal to cry off and his insistence that he see her safely home.
Perhaps there was hope for them after all. Perhaps they would eventually find a way to care for one another, just as Charlotte and her late husband had.
They reached the townhouse quickly, and Lord Stanton dismounted, then held his hands up for her. She slid herself into them. Warmth spread through her at his touch. Her own hands rested atop his forearms. He stood quite near as her feet touched earth once more. She found herself leaning in ever so slightly toward him, her fingers twisting around the fabric of his sleeves. Was it her imagination, or did he lean in as well? The shrinking space between them heated. There was a small white scar just below his left eye. She hadn’t noticed it before now. She suddenly yearned to reach up and brush her finger over it, to ask how he’d gotten it, to hear all about his youth and childhood.
His eyes seemed to hold a sea of swirling emotions. Most she could only guess at, but something inside her begged to believe this was the beginning of something magical, something that would make every gothic novel ever written pale in comparison. Her heart gave a giddy sort of flip.
His lips turned down, and a scowl creased his forehead and eyes. He pulled his hands back suddenly, putting some space between them.
“Good night, miss,” he said with a proper bow. He turned to leave.
Dinah blinked a few times, the heated pull to be near him fading like mist in the sunlight.
“Wait,” she called after him. He paused, his back still toward her, his posture stiff and upright. He appeared wholly unaffected by the moment they had just shared. “Would you not prefer to take my horse and ride back?” She finally found words to speak.
He only shook his head. “Thank you, no.” His tone, like his posture, was rigid, emotionless.
Perhaps she’d been wrong in assuming he’d seen her home because he cared in some small regard. He’d just been doing his duty. Was that all she had to look forward to now? Dependability but no affection, reliability but no passion?
“Very well,” she said. “I bid you good night.”
He said not another word but strode into the night.
Dinah led the horse around to the back and saw her safely stabled. Then she hurried into the house. Would he ever give them a chance? As Charlotte had said, it took time to develop a connection. Dinah was willing to give them that time. But, if tonight was any indication, time alone might not be enough.
Regardless, tomorrow was her wedding day. Come this time tomorrow, she would be Lady Stanton.
And then...well, Dinah had no idea what then.
