Tempting Fate (36 page)

“He did. I…I don’t know what to say.” The small smile widened. “They went through a great deal of trouble.”

“They caused a great deal more.”

“So did I.”

He didn’t immediately argue, though it was his first instinct. “That would depend, I think, on whether or not you suspected your uncle capable of something like this.”

He gestured at her bruised cheek which, as the physician had indicated, was rapidly progressing to a black eye. He forced himself to ask the question he had been dreading most.

“Had he hit you before, Mirabelle?”

She hesitated before answering, which was answer enough.

“Not in a very long time,” she finally whispered without meeting his eyes.

“But he had hit you.”

Her nod was barely perceptible. “A few times, when I was a child and hadn’t yet figured out how to evade his temper.”

“Was this before your first visit to Haldon?”

She shook her head, and winced at the resulting pain. “Not all.”

“Yet you said nothing,” he responded and let go of her hand.

She rubbed the heel of it against the counterpane. “It stopped, Whit. Or, at least, I learned how to avoid it. I was already frightened you’d discover my uncle’s shameful behavior. There didn’t seem, to me, to be a good reason to tell anyone.”

“We could have helped you.”

“I know. I regret that.” She closed her eyes on a sigh. “I’m so very sorry, Whit. I wish I had done this all so differently.”

And he wished she wouldn’t apologize. It only served to
make him feel worse. “An apology isn’t necessary. You’re not responsible for this.”

“Of course I am,” she argued tiredly “I chose to keep secrets out of pride, and—”

“This was my failure, and I take full responsibility for it.”

“
Your
failure?” Mirabelle gaped at him, completely bewildered. “What are you talking about? You haven’t failed at anything. You—”

Swearing suddenly, he strode back to the foot of her bed, where he began to pace.

“Whit?”

He stopped abruptly and gestured at her face. “You have marks on you.”

“From my uncle,” she said, confusion warring with exasperation. “Not from you.”

“Yes, your uncle and Mr. Hartsinger. Men from whom I should have protected you. I should have…” He trailed off, dragging a hand through his hair and resuming his agitated walk.

She watched him for a minute before trying to speak. “Whit—”

“How many times?” he suddenly demanded, whirling on her again. “How many times did I tell you I wanted you gone from Haldon, that you weren’t welcome here?”

“You didn’t know. You couldn’t have—”

“It was my business to know. It was my responsibility as head of this house to see to your welfare.”

“And so you did.”

He barked out a humorless laugh. “By taunting you? Insulting you?”

“No,” she said softly but firmly. “By letting me taunt and insult you back.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“You seem to have a distorted memory of our disagreements,
Whit,” she sniffed. “I wasn’t a helpless puppy you kicked about and left cowering in the corner.”

“Of course you weren’t.” His voice gentled as he came to her. “I didn’t mean to imply…Sweetheart, you’re the bravest woman I know. The most courageous—”

“For pity’s sake, don’t,” she snapped, swatting at the hand he’d lifted to brush at her hair. “I was a brat, Whit, and well you know it.”

He dropped his arm and eyed her sternly. “You were nothing of the sort.”

“I was everything of the sort. I poked and prodded, teased and insulted. I instigated more than half our fights and participated fully in all of them.”

“That doesn’t change what—”

“
And
—I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.” When he only looked at her, disbelief evident on every feature, she continued. “Have you not stopped to consider why I was so
quick
to battle with you? Why I never tried to gain the favor of a wealthy and powerful peer?”

“Likely because I wouldn’t let you,” he muttered.

“No. I may have said that myself not so long ago and believed it, but it wouldn’t have been true. I fought with you because I adored it. I fought with you because I could…because you let me.”

“Let you?” he scoffed. “Bloody hell, I hardly gave you a choice.”

“Of course I had a choice,” she huffed. “It would have been easy enough to stop baiting you, easy enough to ignore the barbs you offered. And you would have ceased delivering them after a time—sooner, if I’d thrown in a few tears. But I’d never been the least inclined to cry or—”

“I made you cry not a week ago,” he reminded her with a sharp look. “In the room next to the study.”

“Because I was ashamed of my uncle, of myself, of…” She tossed her hands up. “You’re missing the point.”

“The point is that I should—”

“Allow me to make
my
point,” she finished for him with an annoyed glare. She waited until he’d held up his hand before continuing. “I’ve lived most of my life under the thumb of a man I was too afraid of to look in the eye. I can’t explain what it meant to me, to be able to say and do as I pleased without fear. To know that no matter how angry I made you, you’d never raise your hand to me, never hurt me. I very nearly reveled in that.”

“A man can wound with more than just his fists,” Whit informed her quietly.

“But no more or less than a woman,” she countered. “I took great pleasure in, and great advantage of, that equality. You didn’t fail me, Whit. You—” She took in his skeptical expression and changed tactics. “Perhaps…perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement.”

He sent her a look that was part exasperation and part amusement. “Another agreement?”

“We have had some success with them,” she reminded him with a small smile.

He considered her, and the idea. “I suppose we have,” he admitted after a time. “What did you have in mind?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “How’s this? I will accept your apology for not protecting me in the manner you feel you should have. If you will accept mine for not informing you that I was in need of said protection.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ve some reservations regarding the wording,
but,
” he was quick to add when her face turned mutinous, “I will agree to the general sentiment.”

“Then you’ll cease slouching about as if the burden of guilt was too much for you to bear?”

“I haven’t been slouching,” he retorted, and wondered if he could straighten his shoulders without being too obvious about it.

“And you’ll not treat me as if I were a cracked piece of porcelain or a sadly wilting flower?”

He gave her a pointed look. “I assure you, neither idea has ever occurred to me.”

“And you’ll—”

She broke off when he simply leaned down and pressed his finger to her lips. “I’ve agreed to your terms, Mirabelle. Now you’ll accept the fact it may take me a bit of time to become fully comfortable with them.”

She tried talking around his finger. “But—”

He used his thumb and index finger to press her lips together. “You’ll accept it.”

She pointed at the hand that kept her from responding, in acceptance or otherwise.

For the first time since entering her room, he smiled. “Blink once for yes.”

She narrowed her eyes first, but eventually complied.

“Good.” He freed her lips and bent to gently kiss her forehead. “Then we’ll consider the matter settled for now.”

“I should toss you from the room for that,” she groused.

“Probably, but then you’d be left with nothing to do.” He took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “And the physician indicated that sleep was not the best course of treatment at this time.”

She shrugged and plucked at the counterpane. “I couldn’t sleep, at any rate. My mind won’t settle.”

“It’s been a difficult day for you,” he said softly.

“Difficult doesn’t quite cover it,” she replied with a rueful twitch of her lips. “But that’s not what’s troubling me now, not entirely. It’s the future.”

“The loss of your inheritance?” he asked gently.

She nodded. “I’d had so many plans, and now I’m uncertain of what to do. I was thinking…” Suddenly nervous, Mirabelle adjusted the covers on her lap. “I was thinking
that a reference from you would go a long way in helping me secure a position—”

“You want to leave,” he interrupted stiffly.

“Yes. No.” She blew out a breath. She wasn’t at all sure what she was going to do yet. She simply wanted to know which options were available to her. “Not this very minute.”

“But when you’re well again,” he guessed.

Confused, and a little annoyed by the accusation in his voice, she sat up straighter against the pillows. “I’m not particularly unwell now.”

He jabbed a finger at her. “Attempt to get out of that bed and I’ll bloody well tie you to it.”

“I’m not getting up.” She’d tried it earlier, and had nearly fallen on her face for the effort. “And I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

“Don’t understand why I’m upset?” He dropped his finger to glare at her. “You tell me you want to leave, and you don’t understand why I’m upset? What’s wrong with your staying at Haldon?”

“Nothing!” She threw up her hands, frustrated. “And everything. Surely you didn’t expect me to always remain at Haldon, a hanger-on?”

There was a pause before he spoke. “I did once,” he finally admitted softly. “And rather liked the idea of it.”

“Really?”

He leaned back into the chair, remembering. “I imagined the two of us, old and gray, still sparring with each other as if no time had passed.”

“Oh, well. That wouldn’t have been so terrible, I suppose.”

“Perhaps.” He caught her gaze and held it. “But I want something else now.”

“For me to remain at Haldon until we’re old and gray, less the sparring?” she guessed.

“Yes, but not as a guest.”

She found something else in the counterpane to pick at. “However kindly you may rephrase it, I am not family.”

He leaned forward and took her hand. “You would be, if you consented to becoming my wife.”

Her mouth dropped nearly to her chin. “Your…your wife? You mean marry you?”

“That is the usual way of becoming a wife, I’m told,” he answered with a twitch of his lips.

“I don’t know what to say.” She really didn’t. It was beyond her scope. She’d thought that chance lost. How could he marry the niece of a criminal? “I…You’re asking me to marry you.”

“Not as I had planned to, but yes—”

“You’d planned to ask me?”

He shrugged and smiled. “Well, it really ought not to be something a man does on a whim.”

“No…no, it shouldn’t.” She continued to gape, feeling a little lightheaded and more than a little stupid. “I really don’t know what to say to you, Whit, I—”

“Yes would be a fine start.” His smile fell. “You’re not going to say yes, are you?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I…How can you ask this? I’m the niece of a criminal.”

He frowned at her. “I told you once before—you’re not responsible for his sins.”

“Yes, but just taking me in is quite a bit different from…from…”

“Just taking you?”

“From making me the Countess of Thurston,” she corrected, slanting him an annoyed look. “There’s no guarantee my uncle’s actions won’t become public knowledge at some point. People will talk—”

“Damn the talk,” he snapped.

“How can you say that? You worked so hard securing your family’s popularity—”

She cut off at his laugh. “Mirabelle,
popularity
has never been a problem for the Cole family. The
ton
was exceedingly fond of my father.”

“But…I don’t understand.”

“He was witty and charming. He threw lavish parties, agreed to every wager tossed to him, drank with the young bucks, flirted with the old ladies—”

“You said he was a dandy and a rake,” she accused.

“And so he was. The
ton
loved him for it.” He shook his head when she began to argue. “But they didn’t respect him. He couldn’t be trusted—with money, with the ladies, with keeping his word. He was a favorite diversion, nothing more.”

“Oh.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “If it’s not society’s good favor you’ve been courting, then what have you been doing?”

“Behaving as a gentleman, I hope,” he said simply. “I’d have the Cole family known for their honor.”

She licked her lips. “And if marriage to me should throw that honor into question?”

He made a noise that was half sigh and half groan. “To begin with, I’ll see to it your uncle’s behavior will never become public knowledge. I’m an earl, aren’t I? And an agent of the War Department, besides. There are things I can do. Beyond that, there is nothing dishonorable in offering for an honorable woman. And you are an honorable woman—a beautiful, intelligent, and courageous woman. Anyone incapable of seeing that is an idiot. Why should I care for the good opinion of an idiot?” He drew her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Marry me, Mirabelle.”

Marry him. He truly wanted to marry her, despite everything. Her heart, so terribly heavy only an hour before, stuttered and then raced until she felt marvelously lightheaded.

“This is so…I hadn’t expected…I…Can I ask you a question?”

Whit winced and set down her hand. “When a person
has to ask to ask, it’s a fairly good indicator that what is going to be asked, will be unpleasant.”

She gave herself a moment to decipher that statement. “I’m still too muzzy to even attempt responding to that. I only wanted to know…did you realize you’d have to offer for me before you…before we…?”

“Made love?” he finished for her.

“Yes.”

His brow furrowed in thought. “Realize is an odd choice of word, in this case. The wrong one, I think. I have always been aware of what is expected of a gentleman in such circumstances, but if you’re asking if I was thinking of it at the time, I’d have to answer no.” He reached out to brush the back of his fingers gently across her uninjured cheek. “I thought only of how much I wanted you.”

“Oh.”