Page 33 of The Dove
Robert sighed, running a hand over his jaw and looking away. He did not want to tell her whatever it was; that much became clear. Putting her hands against his chest, she pushed him, startling him out of his reverie, forcing him to confront her.
“Damn it, Robert, I am not a fragile piece of glass!” she bellowed. “I need to know what is happening. If you know, you must tell me, now!”
Recovering from the shock of her sudden outburst, he nodded and sighed, taking her arm once more. “Come with me. I will see you home, and we can discuss it in the carriage.
His vehicle was pulling up across the street, waiting for them. She had no choice but to follow, to let him guide her down the stairs and between rows of other carriages clogging the lane. She needed to know what was going on, and all the better if she did not have to wait for a hackney coach.
A footman opened the door, and Robert gave her a hand up, climbing in after her.
“Your address?” he asked.
She gave it to him, and once it had been conveyed to the coachman, the door was slamming and they were on their way. The vehicle swayed, moonlight bouncing around the interior, partially blocked by half-open curtains. Robert’s blond hair gleamed like a halo in the light, his hands folded tightly in his lap. They shook, as if he were as disturbed by what had just happened as she was.
“A group of young men arrived during your waltz with Hartmoor,” he said without preamble, raising his head to meet her gaze. “They had just come from some club … they seemed to be quite foxed.”
Daphne clenched her teeth, biting back a sharp retort. She wanted to tell him to get on with it already, but held her tongue and waited with baited breath.
“They started whispering the rumor the moment they arrived, clearly too drunk to think of discretion,” he continued. “It began to spread like wildfire, reaching every corner of the ballroom by the time the waltz had ended. When the news reached me, I knew I had to get to you … to get you out of there, before … before …”
He flushed, seeming to choke on the last word. Whatever it was had truly worked him into a state.
“What, Robert?” she cried, clutching the edge of her seat, her fingers digging into the fabric. “What news?”
His voice trembled when he finally said the words. “They are saying that Hartmoor paid ten thousand pounds to bed you … that you went to Dunnottar and struck up a deal with him. Your virtue in exchange for the funds.”
For a long moment, she did not speak. She did not so much as make a sound. Something began building inside of her—something dark and hot, raging in her belly and licking at her insides like tongues of fire. But, she could not seem to release it, to let it out. She stared numbly at Robert for a long while, lips parted, words perched on the tip of her tongue.
After he seemed to realize she suffered the effects of shock, he leaned across the space between them, taking both her hands between them.
“We can mend this, Daphne,” he insisted. “The gossip is spreading, but … well, I wanted to do this tomorrow morning. I wanted it to be romantic and proper, but there isn’t time.
Releasing her hands, he reached into his inner coat pocket, retrieving a small wooden box.
Horror finally overcame her other emotions as he opened it to reveal a ring … a modest sapphire set in gold.
“Robert,” she croaked, her throat still so tight, she could hardly take in air.
“Daphne,” he replied breathlessly, as if nerves now got the best of him. “Marry me. Now, tonight. We can leave now and reach Gretna Green by morning. The gossip may continue, but marriage will protect you from the resulting fallout. It will make you respectable.”
She blinked, her vision blurring as the carriage seemed to tilt and spin. Her palms grew damp, and she could not make heads nor tails of her feelings. All she knew was that this was all wrong. None of it was happening the way it was supposed to. She was supposed to be prepared to turn him down.
Now, he was offering for her at the absolute worst moment … as well as the absolute best. It would solve all her problems, would it not? A respectable husband who could whisk her away to the country and out of Adam’s reach. One whose good name would replace her tarnished one and bring her back into the fold. She might not live an exciting life with him, but she could be safe. At peace.
And, yet …
“I cannot marry you just to salvage my reputation,” she protested weakly.
“Then marry me because I love you!” he roared, his raised voice fairly shaking the carriage. “Damn it all, Daphne, have some sense, for once.”
At the murderous glare she gave him in reaction to that remark, he winced.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lowering his voice. “I did not mean that the way I said it. It is just … I’ve wanted this for so long, and I need you to know that my feelings have not changed. That blackguard, Hartmoor, he took advantage of you. He knew you were desperate, and he preyed on you like the beast he is.”
No,she thought.No, that isn’t how it happened at all.
“I … I don’t know,” she stammered, glancing at him, then back down at the ring—which he promptly shoved into her hands. “Robert, everything is happening so fast and I … I am not certain what I wish to do.”
He nodded, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “Then you are refusing me?”
