Page 94 of Bookshop Cinderella

He gave her an apologetic look, but it was clearly bogus, for his smile was widening as he spoke. “I did try. But you wouldn’t let me get a word in.”

A valid point, but that didn’t stop her from a huff of vexation. “Still,” she muttered, glancing around at all the amused faces, “you never seem averse to speaking up when you really want to.”

“Neither do you,” he countered, making her grimace, for she still didn’t know just what nonsense had come spilling out of her mouth a few moments ago.

“So, you just let me go rattling away?”

“I decided it was best, at least until you revealed exactly why you’re here.”

She gave a wild laugh. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Not quite.” His smile faded, his blue eyes turned grave, and her poor heart began skipping beats like a rock skipping across a pond.

“I thought—” She broke off and sucked in air, still trying to catch her breath. “The papers said you might resume paying your addresses to Helen Maybridge. Are you?”

“Would it matter to you if I were?”

Words, something she had seemed to have no trouble with a few moments ago, now seemed stuck in her throat, and she could only stare at him.

“I told you,” he went on in the wake of her silence, “I’d have to marry someone.”

“I know, but...” She paused, but she knew there was no going back now. “But I’m hoping maybe that someone might be me,” she whispered.

“I see.” No change in his face. “So,” he said, turning casually to hand his drink to the footman, “are you proposing marriage to me, then?”

She stared at him, dismayed, fully aware that every person in the room had heard the question and was waiting for her answer. “What, here? In front of all these people?”

A stupid response if ever there was one, given that she’d paid no heed to discretion from the moment she’d burst through the door.

“Yes,” he said, seeming of no mind to make things easier.

He was serious. The room was dead quiet. Evie licked her suddenly dry lips. “Proposing marriage to a man is not a ladylike thing to do,” she mumbled, stalling for time, taking refuge in primness.

“No, it’s not. But—” He broke off and looked down, taking her hand in his. As he looked up again and met her gaze, she saw something in his eyes she’d never seen there before. She saw fear, and she realized even before he spoke again why he was putting her through this.

“If you’re going to take this on,” he said quietly, as if reading her mind, “we both have to know you’ll be able to see it through no matter how hard it gets.”

Never, she decided, could she possibly love him more than she did right now. Evie squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and shoved back the lock of wet hair that had fallen over her face. “Well, then, yes,” she said, trying to assume some semblance of duchess-like dignity. “I suppose I am proposing marriage. Just don’t expect me to go down on one knee,” she added at once, glancing down over her gown as another round of laughter rippled through the room. “Not in this ensemble.” She looked at him again. “I’d never get back up.”

He didn’t laugh with them, but the fear left his eyes, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Well, then,” he said, “now that I know you’re serious, perhaps we should discuss the details in private? That way,” he added in a murmur, leaning closer, “when you go down on one knee and can’t get up, I can lift you without shocking everyone.”

“I think it’s too late for that,” she muttered with a sigh. “I fear I’ve already shocked them all out of countenance. They’ll remember this for years.”

“No doubt,” he agreed. “You do have a way of making even the dullest evening memorable, Evie.” Turning, he went on in a louder voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, it appears dinner shall be a bit late, for Miss Harlow and I have something urgent to discuss in private. If you will excuse us for a few minutes?”

Taking her arm, he led Evie into the adjacent dining room, and having made an utter fool of herself already, she was glad to follow. He waved away the footmen making final adjustments to the table, and they departed the way she’d originally come in.

As the doors closed behind them, leaving her alone with Max, Evie felt her courage faltering. During the mad rush here, she’d given herself no time to think beyond getting to him and telling him how she felt. As he had taught her when they’d practiced dancing together, it was usually best not to think too much. But now, given her admission that she was proposing marriage, she couldn’t help wondering what she’d do if he refused.

Her heart gave a tremble of fear.

“You aren’t really going to make me go down on one knee to do this, are you?” she asked at last, giving a decidedly shaky laugh. “Because I meant what I said. This dress is laced so tight, I can barely breathe, and if you—”

His hands came up, cupping her cheeks, cutting her off midsentence. “My darling.” He kissed her. “Do you mean it? You’ll marry me?”

“I thought I was the one doing the proposing.”

“You take too long.” He pressed another kiss to her lips, then her cheek, then her forehead, then her nose. “My dearest, sweetest Evie. You really will marry me and be my duchess?”

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