Page 19 of Eloping With The Princess
The best she had done while pondering the situation was to realize that, more than anything, what she needed was to no longer remain unmarried. Then those men, whoever they were, wouldn’t be able to wed her in some political game. But she wasn’t married and certainly didn’t have any prospects. She didn’t even know many men her age. St. Bart’s admitted only girls, and the adjacent school, St. Basil’s, had never provided any tempting prospects. Which left only the man she was currently with. She glanced across the table from her. She’d studied him so much during the carriage ride, she feared she’d already memorized all his handsome features.
He wasn’t married.
Could he be the solution she needed? It was a ludicrous idea, but it was the only one she had. Jason was handsome and gallant, and she dared think even charming. Because of those qualities, he was more than likely already spoken for, betrothed to the prettiest of genteel-born ladies in London. Still, he might be her only hope of getting out of this mess. And certainly Jason would see the benefits of making her unavailable for marriage to someone who wanted the current queen murdered. He already worked to protect the Crown. Isabel could help do the same, if only in a small way.
She cleared her throat, trying to think of how to ask such a thing. “I don’t suppose those men would be after me if I were already married,” she said.
He looked up from his meal. “I am not certain that would stop them, but it would definitely slow them down. They have proven that they’re willing to go to the extreme to accomplish their goals. They’ve attempted to kidnap you twice now.”
“Still, it is worth considering, I think,” she said.
“What is?”
“Me finding a husband.”
He nodded slowly. “Do you have someone in mind? A suitor from near the school?” he asked.
“A suitor?” she asked, blankly. She watched his face, noting how very attractive his blue eyes were. Gold flecks enhanced them, making her want to stare into their depths. Oh for heaven’s sake. She needed to get a hold of herself. This wasn’t a romance, this was necessity. “No, nothing like that.”
He returned his attention to his food.
“You could marry me,” she blurted out.
He stilled, staring blankly at her. Then a thick line furrowed his brow and he set down his spoon. He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon?”
She winced. That had not come out the way she’d hoped. “You are not already wed, else I’m certain I’d have seen a wife at your townhome, true?”
“True.” His frown deepened.
“Betrothed?”
“No.”
Hope blossomed within her. “Then you are available for marriage?”
He ran his hand through his dark, wavy hair. “No, I am not.”
She chewed on her lip and watched him. “You do not care for women?” she asked, her words slow and deliberate.
His brows rose in surprise and then he chuckled, and the mirth created such attractive crinkles at the edges of his eyes. She sighed.
“I very much care for women, as it were. I am simply not looking for a wife.”
“I see.” She dug the spoon through her stew as if she might find the answer hidden somewhere amid the potatoes and lamb pieces. “I thought that as a protector of the Crown, you would be interested in being a protector no matter the cost.”
“Isabel, I am protecting you so that you are not forced to play a part in this traitorous plan. It is not your place to protect the queen. That is the purpose of the Brotherhood,” he said.
“Yes, but that does not negate the usefulness of the rest of us. Would you not expect a man to assist the queen if he saw her about to trip, even if he were merely a footman?” she asked.
He blinked at her, and his jaw clenched for a moment before he spoke. “That is not the same thing.”
“Protecting the sovereignty of the kingdom is every Englishman’s duty,” she said.
“Perhaps, but you are not English.”
“But if I can help—”
“You cannot help. It is the Brotherhood’s job to protect the queen, and you as well. Now you must allow me to do my job.”
