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He lifted his head, peering at her through hazy eyes. “Yes?”
“You spent inside of me.”
He blinked at her in confusion. “Yes?”
“I know what that means, what could happen.” She pressed her lips together, too scared to ask the real question burning in her mind.
Arthur tilted his head in confusion. “You said you loved me, and did not care about my lack of estate, which suggests you wish to wed.” He rested his head on her chest with a frown. “Oh, I suppose I haven’t made my own feelings clear, have I?”
The sensation of her heart wanting to fly from her chest was the only reason Francesca didn’t smack a hand to her forehead. “Arthur, do you—”
The door flew open, the enraged voice of Jasper bellowing through the room. “What the fuck do you think you're doing, Clifton!”
**
Arthur stilled at the sound of Amberwood’s furious voice. He’d entirely forgotten that the marquess, along with Ashford, were visiting tonight. Arthur couldn’t even blame Raleigh for letting them up, as the two men were always the unspoken exceptions to any commands for privacy. Just his luck that they had managed to come to the worst possible conclusion. As if he could even imagine himself with another woman now, not after the explosive time they’d shared.
With a curse, Arthur sat up and hugged a mute Francesca against his body in a futile attempt to secure her modesty as Amberwood’s angry footsteps stomped into the room. “I can explain, Amberwood.”
“I’d like to see you bloody well try!” The marquess bellowed. “I came here to talk some sense into you regarding Francesca and arrived only to hear that you’ve closeted yourself up with some random woman. Does she mean so little to you?” He came around the sofa, eyes thunderous. “I should call you… out?” The sentence trailed off as he stared at them, mouth agape. “Francesca?”
She wedged herself tighter against Arthur’s chest, half clutching the wrinkled bodice of her dress closer, and peeked at Amberwood in utter mortification. “Jasper,” she all but squeaked. Arthur tensed, waiting for a second explosion of rage, but Amberwood only sputtered in response.
“What? When? How did you get here?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be with Kitty and Sophie at my home?” Ashford’s voice inquired from the hall. The duke, at the very least, had the good sense to stay out of the room.
“I snuck out.” She looked about ready to cry from embarrassment, and Arthur decided that the men’s gawking was at an end. Whilst it was a relief to see that Amberwood would not lose his head as Arthur had thought, he still did not appreciate having an audience for one of the most emotional moments of his life.
“Go to my office. Both of you,” he hissed.
Looking a tad green, Amberwood nodded shakily, but held his ground. “This is the result of your betrothal, I hope?”
“We were getting to that before your stupid self barged in.”
“Do you love her?” his friend blurted in response.
“Amberwood, for the love of god give them some space,” Ashford commanded from the hall.
“Of course I do,” Arthur barked back, his patience ending.
“Really?” Francesca tilted her head to look up at him hopefully.
Forgetting their company for a moment, Arthur smiled down at her. “Yes, really. I’d have you as my countess as soon as we are able.”
“Oh, Arthur!” She buried her face in his chest with a joyful sob.
Amberwood appeared as if he were about to cast up his accounts right there. “I’ll just be downstairs,” he muttered and made a beeline for the door. It slammed back shut, and Arthur heard Ashford’s muffled but chiding voice scolding Amberwood until it faded down the hall.
Francesca scooted away and swiped her watering eyes. “You really love me?”
“I wouldn’t have allowed things to get this far if I didn’t.” He reached out a hand to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. He’d made the choice the moment they’d tumbled together on the sofa. After feeling her beautiful body wrapped around him, taking in her rosy scent and warm softness, he hadn’t cared if she was merely using him, for he couldn’t imagine ever leaving the clutches of her embrace. But looking at her now, at the loving way she regarded him even after securing his hand, the fact that he had ever doubted her feelings was mortifying. “I was an ass to you these past weeks,” he admitted, the cold stone of guilt weighing upon him.
Francesca shook her head with a watery laugh. “I was the ass first. You had every right to be offended.”
“And I forgive you for it, truly.” He gestured for her to turn around, running a gentle finger down the length of her spine after she did so.
“Me, as well,” she said as he tied her undergarments back in place. “Jasper is an idiot. He’d handled finding out about my feelings back at Renwood so well, I thought we wouldn’t have to worry about him any longer. I think I’m going to die from embarrassment.”
