Page 75 of Desperate Proposals
“Oh,” Marcus said, cowed. “I suppose that’s fair.”
“Cheer up, lad,” Towle said, pushing himself up from the chair with some effort. The new baronet had been partaking in his fair share of the festivities as well, judging by his unsteady gait.
“Ladies enjoy laughing every now and then,” his mentor mused.
Marcus frowned. “I’ve an excellent grasp of humor,” he protested, feeling even more pathetic once the words escaped him.
“In your estimation or hers?”
Marcus didn’t care to answer that.
Towle smiled patiently. “Then perhaps you ought to let up. Don’t force the matter. Allow things to progress naturally.” He came up alongside Marcus and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
“But—”
“Ah, not another word. You’ll work yourself into an early grave trying to set the world to rights. For now, let’s just enjoy dinner.”
With a gentle prod, Towle urged him forward.
“At the table?” The thought of milling about the room, balancing his plate while his wife gave him dissatisfied looks, was most unappealing.
“At the foot, lad.” Towle chuckled. “Must start somewhere, now, mustn’t we?”
Chapter Nineteen
The ball lasted intothe middle of the night. By the time they returned to their Birmingham hotel, Marcus barely had energy to deal with the puppy he’d procured earlier that day, let alone attempt to decipher the enigma that was Evelyn.
The next day they made their way back to Lancashire, tired and sullen both. The puppy was the only member of their party with enthusiasm for the trip, and it bounded about the compartment, tail whipping back and forth.
Evelyn had politely thanked him for the gift of the collie that morning, with no indication that she actually meant it. Her lack of enthusiasm had brought him low, but now, as they neared Blackburn, she was eyeing the creature with curiosity.
Hope stirred in his chest.
“Have you considered a name?” he ventured.
Evelyn did not look his way; her gaze remained fixed on the dog as it rolled about the compartment floor, having apparently found some irresistible smell baked into the worn carpeting.
“Milburga,” she finally said, with a measure of authority.
“Milburga?” Marcus echoed, unable to detach his opinion from his tone.
“Yes,” Evelyn said, giving him a stern look as she leaned forward and held out one gloved hand to the newly christened canine.
“Well,” Marcus said, clearing his throat, “far be it from me to decide. I don’t believe I’ve named another living creature in my life.”
Milburga accepted Evelyn’s invitation, licking her kid glove with gusto, tail swishing to and fro. But that was not enough for the dog, for it reared back and attempted to leap into Evelyn’s lap. Unfortunately, it misjudged its own length and made it only halfway, leaving its hind legs scrabbling against the bench.
“Oh,” Evelyn gasped, catching the animal’s lower half reflexively.
Marcus was up in a flash, dropping to his knees to assist her. But it was unnecessary; Evelyn had lifted the wiggly pup into her arms, leaving Marcus at her feet like a penitent suitor with one hand atop her skirts.
Without conscious thought on his part, he felt his gaze drawn to hers, and his breath caught when he saw her light eyes looking back at him. Something about this moment felt different. Blast it, everything had felt different recently. Bit by bit, his admiration for her had transformed into something else entirely.
Affection.
Marcus swallowed and dropped his gaze to his hand resting upon her lap. Directly underneath it, separated by all her feminine trappings, was her lovely thigh. His fingers itched, wanting to dig into her succulent flesh.
Again without thought, he reached up and caught her chin with one hand.
