Page 49 of Sinfully Daring

“Of which handsome man are you to ask this outrageous question?” he demanded, wishing he hadn’t.

He could not bear to think of her with another man. Not now. But that was just his own stupidity and selfishness. Of course, she must find herself a husband now. She must marry, and quickly. She had wanted to marry, of course, but now it was urgent. It would smooth away most of the problems she had. Society would forgive much of a married lady that was beyond the pale in a maiden.

“Well, you, obviously. Really, Hargreaves, do keep up. This is difficult enough for me. The least you can do is pay attention.”

Her dark brows drew together, her lush lips pressed together so firmly it was almost a pout. Sebastian gave himself a stern talking to and ignored the temptation her indignant expression beguiled him with.

“I beg your pardon. I am paying attention, my lady. You wish to ask me a question. An… outrageous question?” he added doubtfully, distracted by the idea she found him handsome but hoping that he’d gleaned that much.

Apparently so, for she nodded and sighed with relief.

“Yes, my lord. So I shall just get on and ask.”

“Please do.”

“Lord Hargreaves, would you do me the great honour of becoming my husband?”

Sebastian stared at her. Her cheeks were flaming now, the colour also flushing the length of her slender throat. Well, she would be nervous, if she’d just asked him to marry her, but she hadn’t… he was suffering a nervous collapse. It was only to be expected in the circumstances. It was also the only explanation.

“My lord? Did you hear what I said?” she asked fretfully.

Sebastian shook his head. “No. That is, I heard words but… but they seemed so unlikely I rather doubt I heard them correctly.”

“Oh, you did! You know you did, you great oaf! Oh, do stop funning with me at such a moment. I am perfectly serious,” she scolded him.

Sebastian sucked in a breath. “Marry? You want to marry me?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, stiff with embarrassment. “Who else should I wish to marry, may I ask you? It is the perfect solution. We shall face the ton together and dare them to think ill of us. We shall t-tell everyone it was a marriage of convenience, but that it suits us both very well for we are friends a-and, as your wife put me in such a wretched position, it was only fair you get me out of it.”

She stammered through her explanation, but held her chin up, holding his gaze with sheer determination. Good Lord, if she blushed any hotter, she’d set herself on fire.

He was too stunned to present a proper argument, but even his poor, beleaguered brain could grasp the basic point. “They’ll think it all true. The affair, and that I murdered Adelia.”

Rosamund shrugged. “They think it anyway.”

Sebastian’s heart had stopped beating some time ago, well, precisely at the moment she had proposed to him. She had proposed. To him. With difficulty, he swallowed down the hysterical impulse to laugh. Except then he remembered all the reasons marrying him was a terrible idea and he did not wish to laugh ever again.

“You would do far better to marry someone else, my lady, though I should be honoured to do so, if it were possible.”

“Oh, drat you, Hargreaves. It is possible. It’s scandalous, I grant you, but as we’re in the eye of the storm anyway, what does it matter? And… And I wish to marry you,” she said stoutly.

Sebastian had been wrong. She turned an even deeper shade of red, but there were still no signs of her bursting into flames. Perhaps he would, then. He felt hot. And indecently, incandescently happy. It had been so many years since he had felt anything of the sort, it took him a moment to realise what it was.

“You wish to marry me?” he repeated, hardly daring to believe it.

She nodded, a nervous, jerky up-and-down movement he found ridiculously endearing. “I am very f-fond of you, my lord, and you are my friend. If there is anyone I believe I can face this… this ordeal with, and survive it with my wits intact, it is you.”

“Rosamund,” he said, her name spoken on a soft breath as the idea caught him up and wound itself about him, binding him up so tightly he could barely speak. He could marry her. Have a life with her. Have a family with her. “It’s madness,” he said, needing to give her the chance to see sense, even if his heart was crying out for him to get on and say yes.

“Perhaps,” she admitted, staring at him. “But I will be content to be thought mad, if you will too.”

He swallowed, allowing a smile to curve his mouth, astonished that such a thing was even possible when he had sunk to such miserable depths just days ago. “You’re sure? Have you really thought this through?”

“I have.”

She gave another nod, her expression so fierce and determined he ached with the desire to take her in his arms. Instead, he answered, feeling as though he was living in some outlandish dream where terrible and wonderful things happened every day.

“Yes, my lady. It would be the greatest honour of my life to marry you.”