Page 72 of To Love and to Loathe
“So when I found myself caring too much for you, I knew I had to be careful—I couldn’t scare you away. So I thought I was coming up with the next best option—a way to have you without reallyhavingyou. Without insulting you by asking for your hand.”
“I might have overreacted last night,” she said, surprising him. “I think I owe you an apology, too. You were trying to find a way to make things work within the boundaries we’d set. You were only doing what I’d asked you to do—you weren’t demanding anything I wasn’t ready to give.”
“I am,” he said. He reached out to take her hands. “Demanding things, that is. If you—” He hesitated, his heart pounding. “That is, if you’ve truly changed your mind.”
“Jeremy,” she said, her eyes flicking back and forth between their entwined hands and his face.
“If you still don’t wish to marry, tell me now,” he said, plunging on recklessly, while he still had the courage. “If you want me to be your lover for the next forty years, I’ll gladly do that instead—I’ll do whatever it takes, Diana, to keep you with me.” His gaze was locked on hers, and her eyes, as she gazed steadily back at him, were suspiciously bright.
A small dimple started to form in one cheek as she stared at him, a precursor to that lopsided smile that he loved so much. “You know, there are plenty of more eligible misses on the market. There’s no need to settle for a widow with a sharp tongue,” she said, and that was all he needed in the way of encouragement.
“I love sharp tongues. I should find married life insufferably dull if it didn’t begin with at least three verbal lashings before breakfast.”
“Only verbal ones?” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes.
“We can negotiate on that,” he said in a strangled sort of voice.
“I thought I never wished to marry again,” she said slowly. “I didn’t think anything was worth risking my independence for, and I didn’t like the idea of relying on someone else—expecting things from them—ever again.”
“I want you to expect things of me,” he said hoarsely, never once moving his gaze from hers. “I want you to demand them. I want to be the person you know you can demand everything of, because you deserve everything. You deserve someone…” He trailed off as an idea formed in his mind. He squeezed her hands tightly and leaned in close to give her a fierce kiss.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said once they broke apart for air.
Her mouth dropped open in an expression of genuine shock. “You’vewhat?”
“Changed my mind,” he said casually, grinning at her. She dropped his hands, but he merely reached an arm out to seize her about the waist and haul her close. “I’m not proposing tonight,” he said, dropping a kiss on her nose, her eyes looking daggers at him mere inches away. “I fullyintendto propose, don’t make any mistake on that front, but I’m retracting my offer temporarily.”
“Would you care to sharewhy, by any chance?” she asked through gritted teeth.
“You’ll see,” he said, and kissed her again.
“I’ve only recently changed my mind on the institution,” she said darkly. “Is your intent to make me reconsider that change of heart already?”
“No,” he said cheerfully.
“Jeremy, if this is about that ridiculous wager, and you plan to hold off for another eleven months until—”
He cut her off with another kiss. “It’s not the wager. Besides,” he added with a grin, “once we are wed, all of your money will legally belong to me anyway, so I really think I’ll be getting the better end of the deal.”
“If you think teasing me about our society’s horrifying laws about women is supposed to make me want to marry you,” she began heatedly, before he stopped her words with his mouth yet again. He supposed that putting his mouth anywhere near her teeth at the moment was a slightly risky endeavor, but when he found his tongue tangling with hers a moment later, he decided that it had been worth it.
Twenty-Four
Diana spent the next dayand a half in a state of giddy joy, irritation, and sexual frustration. It was a confusing bit of emotional turmoil, to say the least, and all the more so for the fact that it was, in her opinion, entirely unnecessary.
“He won’t tell youwhenhe’s intending to propose?” Violet asked the morning of the second day since Diana and Jeremy’s emotional interlude in the gallery. Violet, Diana, and Emily were gathered in Violet’s bedroom, Audley having made himself scarce—or, as he put it, “seeking more masculine breakfast company.” Strictly speaking, as an unmarried lady, Emily should have been breakfasting downstairs; this, however, was the advantage to having the Dowager Marchioness of Willingham, rather than her mother, serving as her chaperone: a certain convenient tendency on the part of that lady to turn a blind eye.
“No,” Diana said, taking an irritated sip of tea. She hadn’t known it was even possible to sip tea irritatedly, but leave it to Jeremy to lead her to this revelation.
“Doesn’t it rather take the romance out of it, knowing it’s coming?” Emily asked curiously. She had a plate of toast in front of her and was working her way through it at an impressively steady pace, pausing only to liberally apply butter and jam to each fresh slice.
Diana sighed. “That’s what’s so maddening. Itshould. And yet… somehow… knowing that he’s preparing whatever it is that he’s planning, it’s… it rather…” She closed her eyes, mortified. “It makes meswoon.”
Emily dropped her toast. Violet dropped her teaspoon.
“Diana,” Violet said in a hushed voice.
“Are you dying?” Emily asked.
