Page 18 of Betting on a Baron
Her earnest statement had his heart doing twists in his chest. Looking pleased with herself, Daphne rolled to her feet. “We really should return to the drawing room.”
He slid off the settee to kneel on one knee before her. He took her hand in his and asked, “Daphne Wilcock, will you marry me?”
Instead of answering in the affirmative, Daphne replied, “Why?”
“What do you mean why? You love me. We just shared a very intimate moment. And I love you.”
“Do you? Do you really love me?”
“Why do you doubt my confession?”
“I want to know you are not proposing because you feel honor bound because of what just transpired.”
“Trust me as I trust you.” He stood and looked her in the eye. “I love you.”
Daphne's stubborn jaw inched higher. “Prove it.”
“How?”
“That is for you to figure out. But I promise the moment I feel loved by you, I’ll agree to marry you. And if the Season comes to an end and I haven’t agreed, we shall officially end our courtship. Deal?”
Daphne and her damned deals. “Deal.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Ahalf-empty decanter sat on Ambrose’s desk. He poured himself another finger and swirled the dark amber liquid about. Three bloody months of lying and little to no progress courting Daphne was taking a toll on his sanity.
In order to refrain from uttering more lies and upholding the idiotic farce he was in dun territory, he’d holed himself up in his study and refused to see anyone. He limited himself to attending parliament sessions and escorting Alice to the occasional social event. Social events where he knew Daphne would be in attendance. Despite his initial confidence in winning Daphne’s affections, and even after their intimate interlude at Archbroke’s home, half the Season had come and gone and he’d yet to hear Daphne utter the three words he longed to hear the most.
He needed to devise a new plan to win Daphne over, for his current actions were highly ineffective. But who should he confer with—Alice?
As if thinking of her made her materialize, Alice poked her head in through the door of his study. “May I enter?”
“Of course.”
Alice stood fists on her hips and glared at him from across his desk. “What are you thinking?”
“With regard to?”
“Daphne.” His sister threw both hands up in the air and then let them fall to her side as she sank into the chair next to her. “You are supposed to be attempting to woo her. Show her how important she is to you. Yet all you do is attend the House of Lords and then return home. You do love her as much as I do, do you not?”
Ambrose nodded.
Alice added, “Then why have you not sent her flowers, gifts of appreciation, taken her to enjoy ices?”
“We are supposed to be broke, remember?”
Alice rolled her eyes heavenwards. “I told you that your scheme would backfire.”
“Gloating is not very becoming, sister.”
She crossed her arms on the desk, rested her forehead on her arms, and mumbled, “Daphne is worried about you.”
“Worried?”
“Yes, worried that the fictitious creditors seeking payment may seek to physically harm you or threaten your well-being. She also swears you appear thinner by at least a half stone or more and now believes we might starve.” Alice popped her head up and glared at him. “I hate deceiving my best friend.”
“I apologize for placing you in this position.”
