Page 14 of A Lyon for Luck
Daphne shook her head. “It isn’t that I do not wish it, but that it may have no use for me. I have significant scandals attached to my name now. Even if I am welcomed, it will be with reservation… and likely only so others can watch us falter. I’m not certain that I’m cut out for being an object of curiosity any more than I’ve been cut out for being an object of ridicule.”
“We need not do anything you do not wish. If society is not welcoming to you, then we need not be welcoming to it. Nothing that has occurred has been of your own making… well, save for this elopement. Nothing that preceded it has been of your making and that you are the only one being held accountable for it is unconscionable.”
“You are a truly remarkable man, Fletcher Quill. More so than you know, I think.”
“The same description—remarkable—could well be applied to you. As could resilient. Resourceful. There is much to be admired in you… and with every passing moment, I find myself more grateful to Mrs. Dove-Lyon than you may ever know.”
Her steps slowed, then faltered until she was standing still among the lacy shadows of the trees. “When you kissed me… was it only because I asked you to do so?”
“No. It was only because I wanted to do so. And if there is any question, yes, I want to do so again. It’s been ever present in my mind since,” he replied with unflinching honesty. Before either of them could say more, he simply took her in his arms again. And when he kissed her that time, there was no hesitation from her. No shyness borne from ignorance. She knew what to expect and she came willingly into his embrace where his advances were evenly met.
Daphne would not be the shy, retiring sort. She would not be the wife who needed coaxing to the marriage bed. Instead, she was proving that she was possessed of a passionate and curious nature, one given to sensual exploration. What a glorious turn of fortune that was!
Chapter Ten
Daphne was enjoyingthe peacefulness of the morning, of the blue sky and warm sun even in the crisp air. And, whatever their circumstances, she was much enjoying the company of the man beside her. There was an easiness in him, a sureness even in the face of their very unusual circumstances, that allowed her to feel—to feel what? Secure? Perhaps. Protected, certainly. It was that which truly puzzled Daphne. They were far from free of danger. Now, only minutes away from Nottingham and the archbishop where they’d obtain their license, she was still aware of a sense of danger. And yet she trusted him, at least in some ways.
“My lord?”
The coachman was calling them from the road. That could not possibly be good.
“What is it?”
The breathless servant, gasping, explained, “There are two gentlemen at the inn looking for the young lady, my lord. I think we need to make haste.”
“There’s a break in the hedgerows only a few yards ahead. We’ll come out there,” Fletcher replied.
Daphne’s stomach sank. Panic seized her. What would she do if they were caught?
“Do not. Do not think it. And even if they catch us, I will not let them take you. I will not let them force you to marry that monster who calls himself a man,” Fletcher vowed. “Whatever it takes, that will not happen.”
He sounded so very certain and so resolute. And he meant it, of that she was certain. But for Daphne, when so many things had already gone horribly wrong, such certainty seemed destined to lead only to disappointment. Because while he was perfectly willing to battle them both if need be, the irrefutable fact remained that the law was on her father’s side. “I wish I could believe that. It isn’t that I doubt your resolve. It’s simply that luck, fate, destiny—whatever you wish to call it—has not been in my favor. I cannot imagine that will have changed now. If anything, their appearance so close on our heels only further proves the inevitability of failure in this wild scheme of ours.”
“Do you wish to marry Pozenby?”
“No! Heavens no! I’d rather die,” she said.
“Then we’ve nothing to lose by making a run for it. If they catch us, we will deal with that when it comes. Trust me, Daphne.”
“I do. Though we are hardly more than strangers to one another… I do trust you. Implicitly.”
“Then we will hurry to the village and send this carriage on to Gretna Green as a decoy of sorts. They’ll continue on in pursuit of it and by the time they catch up to the coachman, we will already be wed.”
Daphne felt a surge of not relief precisely, but certainly a lifting of dread. “Oh, it might just work.” He’d lit a spark of hope in her, offering a glimpse of a future that didn’t involve sharing the marriage bed with the wretched and unwashed Lord Pozenby.
He smiled down at her, and once again Daphne was struck by justhow handsome he was. In truth, she felt entirely dazzled by it from time to time. With the sweep of his slightly overlong dark hair on his forehead and those deep lapis eyes, he was arresting. But it was so much more than that. The planes and angles of his face were a study in masculine beauty, with every feature complementing one another.
“Would you truly have never married if you hadn’t come into the title?” she asked.
“Likely not. I would have lacked the means to support a wife. In truth, one might argue that I still lack the means to support a wife, as it will be your fortune which we live off of primarily.”
It didn’t bother her as much as it should have. After all, it wasn’t as if Lord Lynley had been in love with her for anything about herself, or honestly at all. Pozenby wanted her, but it wasn’t love. And if she didn’t have the fortune, he would certainly not be after her for marriage. No one had ever truly wanted her for herself, and perhaps Fletcher didn’t either, but he didn’t seem to view her inheritance as a consolation prize for having to take her as his wife. He seemed to genuinely like her and to genuinely desire her. It was a far better start than anything else she’d had.
“Let’s go. I don’t want to risk them finding us here.”
It was stillearly by the time they reached Nottingham, but not as early as he might have wished. They rushed to the church where they cornered the archbishop. They paid their fee, made their attestation of their eligibility for marriage, including their ages to ensure that both parties were of the age of consent. When it was done, the clergyman seemed somewhat taken aback that not only did they wish to have their license but their ceremony that same day.
“You wish to wed now?” the archbishop asked.
