Page 26 of Marry in Scandal

He had no desire to marry, no desire to take on the responsibility for anyone’s future except his own. It would be necessary one day, he accepted that—he owed it to Grandfather, and to the family name. The blasted title.

But not yet.

She gave a sudden, convulsive shudder, then glanced at him self-consciously. “Just thinking about what a lucky escape I’ve had.”

He nodded.

“I can’t imagine what it would be like to be forced to marry a man you don’t know.” Her words were a little slurred still and the pupils of her eyes were dark. The remnants of the drug.

“Mmm.”

She added shyly, “I’ve always wanted to marry for love.”

“Ah.” He nodded, as if he had some idea of what she was talking about. Love? Marriage was about duty. And heirs. And responsibility.

Last year he’d almost married a woman he barely knew, the daughter of a friend of his grandfather. Only to please the old man, who he’d thought was on his last legs—the cunning old devil.

Ned hadn’t particularly fancied the girl, but he was philosophical about marriage—no matter what way you looked at it, it was a lottery—and he would have gone through with it. He’d let Grandfather down enough in his life; might as well do this one thing to please the old man before he breathed his last.

Luckily once the girl got to know him better, she’d called it off. What had she called him?A rake and a libertine, coldhearted, irreligious, unprincipled and irredeemable!

Which was accurate enough. There was worse too, in his past, though she didn’t know about that. Nobody knew, only himself. And the dead.

But Grandfather was still alive and kicking, which was the best outcome of all. If he loved anyone, it was his grandfather.

After a moment Lily glanced outside.

“Where are we, Mr. Galbraith? I have no idea how long I was shut in the darkness.”

“Call me Ned. Or Edward.”Mr. Galbraithfrom a girl only a handful of years younger than him made him feel like his father, even if his father was dead. For most of his adult life he’d been Lieutenant, or Captain or Major Galbraith. Or simply Galbraith to his peers. He glanced out the window. “We were a few miles before Boroughbridge when we met up.”

She shook her head, clearly having no idea where Boroughbridge was.

“A dozen or so miles from Harrogate.”

She gasped. “Harrogate? Harrogate inYorkshire?”

He nodded.

“Then I’ve been missing for—how long? What day is it? I’ve lost all track of time.”

He told her.

“Thursday afternoon?”she whispered incredulously. “It can’t be. The Mainwaring rout was on Tuesday night.” He watched as the truth sank into her. “Two nights away...”

They traveled along in silence after that. Ned was relieved when she finally closed her eyes. Pools of misty gray, fringed by thick, sooty lashes.

Cal Rutherford should have set a guard on her. She was a walking temptation to any man, and not just because she was an heiress. She was positively delectable—and too damned trusting for her own good.

Look how she was preparing to go to sleep, right there in front of him. A man she barely knew.

For all she knew he could have the morals of a tomcat—as bad as or even worse than the fellow who’d abducted her. She’d just admitted she was an heiress. Just because he was her brother’s friend didn’t necessarily mean he could be trusted with women. Or heiresses.

Of course he’d cut off his right arm before he harmed her—he did have some shreds of honor left—but she wasn’t to know that.

The coach swayed as it took a bend and she tilted dangerously, her eyes still closed. Lord, if she wasn’t careful she’d fall right off the seat. He swapped seats to sit beside her, and pulled her gently upright again.

Those long, dark eyelashes fluttered; she murmured something he didn’t catch and snuggled up against him. He looked down at her. Her head rested against his arm, her wet hair dampening his sleeve. He didn’t usually encourage—or even allow—women to cuddle up to him. He wasn’t the cuddling sort.