Page 25 of The Risk of Rogues
The other chaps wholeheartedly agreed, to Hart’s chagrin.
Hart glared at them all. “I am not going to embarrass Lady Anne by—”
“It’s all right,” Anne said. “I don’t mind if they hear.”
He glanced at her to find her gazing at him with such melting softness that it revived all his hopes. “Well then.” He steadied his nerves. “I’ve been to your family estate in Lancashire to speak to your father’s heir.”
That seemed to take her entirely off guard. “What? Why?”
God, he hated doing this in front of an audience. But at least the St. George’s Club chaps and their wives formed a barrier between him and the onlookers from town. “Because I wanted to be sure you had sufficient income to be comfortable while I’m finishing my education to become a barrister.”
As her mouth dropped open, Fulkham muttered a curse and said, “I’m putting an end to this nonsense right now—”
“Let him finish,” Anne said. “I want to hear what he has to say.”
When a murmuring began among his friends, he swallowed hard, then forced himself to continue the speech he’d practiced all the way back from Lancashire. “I fear I can’t support you on a law clerk’s salary, so as much as I wish to marry you right away, we should probably wait until I become a barrister.”
She eyed him uncertainly. “But you said you didn’t want to study law.”
“I don’t want you thinking I’m marrying you to further my career in politics, and I can think of no other way to prove it to you than to take up my previous profession. Besides, you want me to have a more steady position, and law is that.” He stepped closer to take her hands in his. “Truth is, I don’t carewhatI do, as long as I have you as my wife while I’m doing it. I love you, Anne.”
“Awwww,” the ladies around them said, almost as one.
Anne beamed at him. “I love you, too, Hart.” Then, oddly enough, she turned to Fulkham. “All right,nowyou can put an end to his nonsense.”
“You are not becoming a law clerk or barrister or any of that,” Fulkham snapped. “You’re going to work for me as my undersecretary. And that is final.”
For a moment, Hart just gaped at Fulkham. Then, looping his arm about Anne’s waist protectively, he stared the man down. “Only if Anne agrees.”
Anne stretched up to whisper in his ear, “We worked it all out while you were gone. You’ll have a salary and everything as undersecretary and spymaster. Say yes, Hart. I want you toifit’s what you want.”
He gazed down at her, and the love shining in her eyes fairly set him back on his heels. Then he held out his free hand to Fulkham. “Very well. I accept your offer.”
As Fulkham shook his hand, the crowd burst into cheers and applause, though Hart doubted any of them really knew what had just gone on.
When the group around them erupted into chatter, he bent down and murmured in Anne’s ear, “Nowcan we speak privately?”
“I should hope so.” Anne glanced at his mud-spattered trousers. “Besides, you aren’t remotely dressed for dancing.”
“As I recall, you hate dancing, anyway.”
She grinned. “You know me so well.”
Chuckling, they slipped from the ballroom and found the library, which seemed to have become their favorite meeting place. He wasted no time in tugging her into his arms and kissing her for a good long while.
Then he drew back to say, “Happy Saint Valentine’s Day, dearest.”
“Happy Saint Valentine’s Day, my love.” She fussed with his cravat. “I hope that your acceptance of Lord Fulkham’s offer means we don’t have to wait to marry. Once you were gone, I realized that all I wanted was you, however I could have you.” Her eyes shone with tears of happiness. “We’ve wasted enough time already, and we’ve both made mistakes that brought us to this pass. So perhaps we should start making memories together, instead.”
His breath caught in his throat. God, he loved this woman so much.
But he did want to clear up one thing. “Does that mean you’ll get rid of this ridiculous excuse for a hat?” he asked as he poked her silk turban. “Why, it doesn’t even have any feathers.”
“Hart! Now that you’re going to be undersecretary, I can’t be wearing outrageous hats anymore.”
“If a requirement for the post is that you give up your hats, sweetheart, then I’m resigning before I begin.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Those hats are the essence of who you are. I would no more trade them for boring ones than I would tradeyoufor one of those insipid debutantes with blond hair and unfreckled skin and dull conversation about the weather.”
She gave him such a tremulous smile of joy that he just had to kiss her again.
Then he touched his forehead to hers. “So how about you go upstairs, exchange that ridiculously demure turban for one of your gloriously spectacular hats, and then we’ll sit out every dance and discuss what sort of house we mean to rent in London.”
“Or,” she said, eyes bright, “why don’t webothgo upstairs and you can help me pick out my hat.” She skimmed his form with a sultry look. “ThenIcan help you change into clothing more appropriate for a ball.”
His blood leapt in his veins. “I like the way you think. Though you should take care. It shows you’re becoming almost as wicked as I, sweetheart.”
“That’s the risk of rogues, sir. They tempt women to be wicked.” She grinned. “Thank goodness.”