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At the precise moment Nora turned to thank Lady Dunn for coming, there was a stir. Conversation picked up in both speed and volume about the room. A woman whose name Nora couldn’t quite recall came toward her. Her eyes were wide and animated, her lips curved into an expectant smile.
“May I offer my congratulations to you both,” she said, beaming at Nora and Dawson.
Nora looked at Mr. Dawson and saw that he was grinning. What did he have to grin about? Something to do with this mysterious congratulations. A knot formed in Nora’s chest.
Dawson sidled closer, his smile appearing perhaps a bit forced upon closer inspection. He looked at Nora intently, his gaze piercing as if he were trying to impart some dire piece of information without saying a word. Then he turned his attention to the woman. “Thank you, Lady Faversham.”
“Have you set a wedding date?” Lady Faversham asked.
“What’s this?” Lady Dunn asked. She looked between Nora and Dawson. “There’s to be a wedding?” Her gaze fixed on Nora, and there was a bit of an accusation in its depths. “I didn’t realize you were betrothed.” She was angry that Nora hadn’t told her. But there hadn’t been anything to tell.
Nora opened her mouth, but Dawson’s elbow grazed her side as he rushed to answer, “Yes, a wedding. Thank you for your felicitations.” He tipped his head down to address Lady Dunn. “Yes, we became betrothed yesterday.”
They had done no such thing! Did he somehow think an agreement had been reached when they’d walked around the garden? He couldn’t have. She’d given him no assurances, let alone an answer to a proposal he hadn’t uttered.
She turned her head to glare at him and saw something in his eyes that gave her pause—fear. What was going on here? Why was he doing this?
Dawson took her hand, and she instinctively tried to snatch it away. He squeezed her fingers, tugging until she looked at him. He leaned slightly forward and whispered, “Please just go along with me. I promise it will all turn out right. Trust me.”
Trust him? All the power she’d felt last night leached away, leaving her cold and hopeless. People clamored around them, and the chatter in the drawing room had reached a near-deafening crescendo.
And then it quite simply stopped.
Heads swiveled to the doorway. Standing on the threshold, his face as dark as a storm cloud, was Titus.
The knot in Nora’s chest loosened upon seeing him, but then promptly tightened again as she registered his anger. He knew about the betrothal. Which wasn’t even real.
She stared at him, hoping to do what Dawson had tried—communicate without saying anything. She tried to convey that she wasn’t betrothed, that she didn’t want Dawson. Yes, she knew in that moment that she wouldn’t accept him or Markham or anyone else. Not when she wanted Titus. She pulled her hand from Dawson’s grip and edged away from him.
Titus didn’t break eye contact as he strode slowly into the room. People backed away from his path, and still no one spoke. He didn’t stop until he was about three feet in front of Nora.
Dawson tried to take her hand again and whispered, “Let’s take a walk.”
She kept her gaze locked with Titus, urging him to do something. Saysomething.
Titus held his arm out. “Walk with me.”
She put her hand on his sleeve, and they walked straight back through the sitting room toward the terrace. Once outside, he closed the door behind them. This might cause a scandal, but then this entire event seemed destined to ruin her newfound status. She couldn’t have cared less.
Titus moved away from her and walked to the edge of the terrace that looked out over the garden below. He turned, his face only slightly less fierce than it had been when he arrived. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you betrothed to him?” The question was harsh, clipped.
“No.”
“Then why does all of London think you are?”
“Because he told them?” She took a deep breath and tried to shake the consternation from her head. “He only just arrived a few minutes ago. Someone else—Lady Faversham—congratulated us on our betrothal. I don’t know how she heard about it. I do know that he said to her that we became engaged yesterday. He paid me a call, and we strolled around the garden. He made his intent to court me quite clear, but he didn’t ask me to wed him.”
Titus leaned back against the rail on the terrace. He massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment, then dropped his hand and fixed her with his emerald gaze. “What do you want?”
Her mind was in total disarray. Everything was happening so fast. “What do you mean?”
“Do you wish to marry Dawson? I thought you might prefer a different life—perhaps even without a husband. I know you value your autonomy.”
Nora began to relax. Here was the man who understood her. “No, I don’t want to marry him, but he’s made an awful mess. If I say we aren’t betrothed, I will be the one to suffer.”
