They both recognized the question as deadly serious. Her coffee-colored eyes betrayed her responses. Denial. Fear. Then hard-won courage.
It took her so long to speak, he still wasn’t sure that she’d agree. Although if she didn’t, what future could she have?
After an agonizing interval, her thick eyelashes fluttered down. Her delicate throat moved as she swallowed. Just as he was about to beg like a complete blockhead for her answer, she spoke.
“Yes.”
He struggled to hide his powerful satisfaction. This was insane. As she’d said, unforeseen circumstances compelled this marriage. But somewhere between discovering her in his room and this instant, he’d become reconciled to marrying her. Even if she didn’t feel nearly so optimistic about their chances.
“I have your word?”
This time the response came with a hint of irritation. “Yes.”
“Thank you.” He ran his hand down her soft cheek, wanting to do more, knowing he couldn’t, not yet.
When he stood, she stared up at him, mouth open with surprise. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
Her disappointment was gratifying. Perhaps he had grounds for hope after all. He smiled at her. “Tomorrow.”
Outraged, she jerked to her feet. “What?”
His smile broadened. “If you marry me tomorrow, I’ll kiss you all you want.”
Kiss her. And more. He could hardly wait. Instinct told him that right now he had the advantage. Kissing her would remove that advantage.
“That was a dirty trick.” She sounded peeved, but the flicker of a dimple in her cheek indicated unwilling amusement.
“I’ll show you more
dirty tricks once we’re married, my love.”
His joke fell flat. Her expression turned worryingly somber. “I’m sure.”
Chapter 6
THE SENSATION OF being caught up in the whirlwind remained with Philippa after she left Lord Erskine—Blair—at the summerhouse. She accounted herself a determined person, someone who made up her mind and stuck to it. So how had he persuaded her to agree to the marriage when she’d arranged their meeting specifically to set him free?
More puzzling, why was he so set on doing the honorable thing?
How it grated that by far the most disappointing part of the encounter was that Blair hadn’t kissed her. When on earth had his kisses become so important?
She returned to the house feeling irritable and frustrated and jumpy. A mood not improved when her mother caught her the instant she stepped in from the terrace and whisked her away for a dress fitting.
Philippa’s disgrace didn’t merit a new gown, but nor could she marry an earl in a frock she’d worn for over a year. Her mother had enlisted the local seamstress to alter a dress Amelia disliked. Her sister’s taste ran to frills and furbelows. So far, Philippa hadn’t resisted her mother’s choices as she’d been sure the wedding would never take place. Now it seemed she must make some effort not to look like a cheap fairing at the ceremony.
It was dark before she finally broke away from the fussing to retreat to her room. This was her last night in this shabby chamber. Tomorrow she’d share a bed with a man who remained an enigma, for all his unexpected kindness. To her astonishment, her nervous shiver at the thought contained a large dollop of excitement.
The door opened without a knock to reveal her cousin Caroline. The girl stared down her lengthy nose, increasing her unfortunate resemblance to a horse. “So this is where you’re hiding.”
Philippa settled more firmly into her chair, and her hands curled around the book that she hadn’t been reading. Her haughty cousin didn’t usually seek her company.
“What do you want?” she asked without enthusiasm.
Not waiting for an invitation, Caroline barged in. “Amelia wants to see you.”
That was a good argument for staying just where she was. “I need to change for dinner.”
Caroline scowled at her. “You’ve got ages yet.” She paused. “Or are you too high and mighty to spare a few minutes for your family, now that you’ve trapped Erskine into marrying you?”