Page 34 of The Butler and the Bluestocking
She’d spent many comfortablehours alone with him during their tours of York’s historical sites and their late-night discussions in the townhouse study. Even the few brief meetings they’d had, including that memorable day when the house was empty with everyone but them at the al fresco party, had been comfortable, almost reassuring. Why did she feel awkward now?
Because he believes he loves you, you idiot,scolded her conscience.
“Bess,” he took her hand and kissed it. “Several days ago, I begged your forgiveness for deceiving you as to my identity.”
“Yes, Mal. I forgive you.”
He kissed her hand again. “I want to be certain that you know you can trust and rely on me.”
“Dear Malcolm.” She leaned forward, stood on her toes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His embarrassed flush pleased her greatly. “Does that reassure you?”
He swallowed. “Yes. Yes, indeed.” As he spoke, he knelt on the floor in front of her.
Oh dear, he’s not proposing, not now.
If not now, when? queried her very annoying inner voice.
“You know I love you. Please do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage. I vow to cherish you always.”
Is that what I want?To be cherished?
You object to being cherished? asked her decidedly inconvenient voice. She wished she could banish the thing.
“I’ve no objection to being cherished.”
“Bess, that is wonderful.” Malcolm surged to his feet and made as if to embrace her.
She backed up three steps—a good two arms lengths away from him. “I’m sorry. I did not realize I’d spoken my thoughts.”
“If you’ve no objection, then why...?” He gestured at the space she’d put between them.
“Because...”
This better be good,said her acerbic inner voice.
Silence! She wanted to keep her thoughts to herself, so she kept her lips firmly closed.
“Bess?”
“Because I can’t marry you,” she blurted.
He straightened and masked his expression. “If that is your wish, I will of course respect it. May I ask why?”
Truth be told, refusing him might just break her heart as well as his. She’d come to rely on his keen insights as she completed her work for Mr. Young. Malcolm had helped her so very much in the few weeks she’d known him. An explanation was the least he deserved.
“Because... I won’t be in England.”
“Where will you be? I could perhaps join you.” His tone was carefully neutral.
“On Mr. Thomas Young’s recommendation, I’ve been invited to be part of an expedition to Egypt being organized by the London Royal Society. We will be leaving June first at the latest. I intend to accept the invitation, so I cannot marry you.”
While she spoke, she watched Malcolm’s thin-lipped restraint break into a wide grin that spread to include not just his mouth but his cheeks, eyes, his entire face. He positively glowed with joy.
“Oddly enough—or not—I too have an invitation to join that same expedition. I’d hoped to persuade you to spend our honeymoon exploring Egyptian ruins.”
“You horrid man.” She smiled and leapt at him, clasping her arms around his neck and plastering herself against him so he was forced to support her with his arms around her waist. Then she kissed him.
A long while later, she came up for air the third, or it might have been fourth, time. She hadn’t bothered to count. “You knew all along about the expedition. Did you know I’d been invited?”
