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“You just told me that Ashbourne didn’t propose to you this weekend.”
“That’s true,” Emma agreed, clasping her hands together. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t propose to him.”
Ned’s eyes registered disbelief. “I, er, suppose you could,” he said slowly. “I’ve never heard of that actually happening, but I don’t suppose that means it cannot be done.”
“You think I’m a fool,” Emma said flatly.
“No, no, no, of course I don’t,” he replied quickly. “Ashbourne is a fool if he refuses. Which he won’t. I’m sure of it. It’s just that he might be a little surprised.”
“A lot surprised.”
“A hell of a lot surprised,” Ned said, nodding his head.
Emma groaned. “Oh, God. I’m blushing just thinking about it.”
Ned drummed his fingers against the wall as he considered the scheme. “But are you sure this would work, Emma? How on earth could you propose to him, have him accept, get married, and get your money—all in a fortnight?”
Her face fell. “I couldn’t, I suppose. But I should think the bank would release my money once they knew I was engaged to the Duke of Ashbourne. Alex is a powerful man, you know.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure an announcement in the Times would do the trick. It’s almost as good as being married. A gentleman would never throw over a lady once their engagement was in the paper. And the bankers would never dream that anyone would jilt a duke.”
“But what if they refuse to release the money early? Bankers can be quite rigid about rules and all that.”
“Then I’ll have to have a hasty wedding. I don’t think Alex would mind.” She bunched up bits of her quilt in her hand, her eyes focused on her fingers a she spoke to her cousin. “I hope I have the courage,” she said softly.
Ned immediately moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulder. “Emma,” he said quietly, giving her a slight squeeze. “You don’t have to do this for me. I can solve this problem somehow. I’ll go to a moneylender if I have to. I’ll be miserable for a few months, a year maybe. But marriage lasts a lifetime. I can’t ask you to sacrifice your happiness like that.”
“But maybe,” Emma whispered, “just maybe I wouldn’t be sacrificing my happiness.” She looked intently up at her cousin, her violet eyes bright with emotion. “Do you understand? Maybe it’s the only chance I’ve got for happiness.”
“But Emma, are you sure you can do it? If Alex hasn’t asked you to marry him, what makes you think he’s going to accept your offer?”
“I don’t know,” Emma sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to make him accept me, won’t I?”
Meanwhile back at Westonbirt, Alex lay soaking in a hot, steaming bath. He felt as if he’d ridden to hell and back during the past few days, and every muscle ached from overuse. He was thoroughly irritated with the godforsaken storm that had flooded half his estate, knocked down six trees, and monopolized his attention all day Saturday. Regretfully, the only time he’d been able to see Emma was at breakfast and dinner, and she had spent most of that time picking at her food and avoiding making eye contact.
She was nervous, that was all. He could understand that.
But what he couldn’t understand was why he was nervous, too. Oh, he supposed he did a better job at covering it up than Emma did, but he was nearly ten years older than she was and had certainly had far more experience with the opposite sex. It stood to reason that he would be a little bit more self-contained. But even though he managed to act fairly normally, he couldn’t deny the heady sense of anticipation he felt whenever she entered the room. Nor could he ignore how utterly disappointed he felt when he got up that morning and discovered that she had already left.
Alex groaned and sank back a little deeper into the tub. He was going to have to figure out exactly what it was he felt for Emma. And then once he did that, he was going to have to figure out what he wanted to do about it.
Marriage?
The notion was beginning to seem more and more appealing. He’d always planned to put off marriage until his late thirties. Then he could do what everyone expected him to do and marry some girl without a personality and promptly ignore her. Well, not so promptly. There was that matter of getting an heir. But once he got that taken care of, he could forget about her existence. He didn’t need a wife getting in his way.
But the fact of the matter was—he wanted Emma in his way. He went out of his way to get her in his way. The idea of Emma as his wife dispelled all of his earlier notions of marriage. He felt warm inside at the thought of waking up next to her in the morning, of not having to sneak around just to get a moment alone with her. It didn’t seem to make very much sense to wait around for a wife he could successfully ignore when he could have one he didn’t want to ignore.
And, of course, there was that matter of getting an heir. The process didn’t seem tedious anymore if it involved Emma. And for the first time, he found himself looking into the future and trying to picture those heirs his mother kept reminding him about. A little boy with carroty hair. No, a little girl with carroty hair—that was what he wanted. A tiny little girl with carroty hair and big violet eyes who would hurl herself into his arms and scream, “Papa!” when he walked into the room.
And after that, he’d tuck her into bed, grab her mother, tuck her into bed, and get down to the business of creating a little boy with carroty hair and big violet eyes.