Page 55 of Never a Duke
She wanted to do so much more than talk, but talking mattered too. “Papa throws me at young men and not-so-young men with whom I would be miserable. It’s as if by allowing the cits and younger sons to dance with me, Papa gains favors.”
“You think they forgive his debts in hopes of gaining his approval as suitors?”
When Ned put it that way, the notion didn’t feel as foolish. “Yes. Then Papa can blame my fickle nature when their aspirations come to nothing, which they always do.”
“Your father plays a dangerous game, if that’s so,” Ned said, though his touch remained light and soothing. “Sooner or later, some ambitious fellow will feel entitled to trespass, and then your fickle nature won’t come into it. You will be compromised, and marriage will become your only choice other than ruin.”
Rosalind hadn’t felt comfortable airing this concern with even Mrs. Barnstable, but it haunted her.
“I have tried,” Rosalind said. “I have tried to like those fellows, to see their positive qualities, but they are such uphill work, and I am to be silly and superficial with them—or worse—grateful for their attentions. Then I spend time with you, Ned, and it’s as if I have found my own heart. You have purpose and values, you work hard, you care for others, you have aspirations besides avoiding the sponging house.”
His hand on her back paused. “I’m no saint, Rosalind.”
“You asked what I treasure about you, Ned Wentworth, and the list is so long, I don’t know where to start. Your honesty is near the top though, as is your sense of honor. I want to compromise you. You should know that. I want to compromise you so thoroughly that you are stuck with me.”
“I have another suggestion,” Ned said, framing her face in his hands. “Why not do as smitten couples usually do? Why not court for a time, and then become engaged? The progression is woefully dull and predictable, but I hope you’ll consider it.”
He was smiling at her, though his gaze was serious.
“Court for a time?”
“I’m told picnics qualify as courting behavior, as does driving in the park, calling upon a lady, escorting her socially. I realize we have other business that draws us together, and I might well be getting above—”
“Yes,” Rosalind said, an enormous weight of hope and worry lifting from her heart. “Yes, please. Let us court, and flirt, and make a spectacle of ourselves doting on each other in public, and then we will marry.”
She subsided against Ned, felt his heart beating next to hers, and let the enormity of the moment settle into her mind. This was not quite a proposal, but discussions like this were how proposals began. This was an understanding in the truest sense of the word. Ned understood her, she understood him. Intimacy in its rarest form.
“You have to promise me something, Rosalind.”
“Anything.”
“You have to promise me that you won’t look with favor on my suit simply because you think I’m a reasonably decent fellow who can spare you from your father’s machinations. I’m confident that between your own native wit and intervention from Her Grace of Walden, you could avoid ruin in all but the most difficult circumstances your father could concoct.”
“Possibly, but Papa could easily pack me off to Aunt Ida’s again or banish me to some Swiss hotel for months with only Mrs. Barnstable for company. Aunt Ida lives in Derbyshire. I treasure her for any number of reasons, but spending the rest of my life admiring scenery does not number among my ambitions.”
“You fear your father will wear you down, you mean?”
“Yes.”Wear me down further.“I am weary of his games, Ned.”
“He doesn’t know you very well, does he?” Ned’s smile became sweet and mischievous. “He does not know that you are one part Damascus steel, one part ingenuity, and one part cool reason, all wrapped up in a big, courageous heart.”
“When I am with you, I can be that person you describe, brave and smart and whatnot. I like who I am with you, Ned Wentworth, and if I look with favor upon your suit, which I will do, that’s because I esteem you greatly too.”
“Do you lollygag on picnic blankets with all the fellows you esteem?”
He was trying to lighten the mood, but Rosalind heard the thread of uncertainty in his teasing. Ned was a tad overwhelmed by the moment too, and that was lovely.
“I am not lollygagging,” she said. “I am commencing a seduction. You will please seduce me back, and we will muddle through the business as best we can.” And he doubtless heard the bravado in her voice too.
“Assure me, Rosalind, that you wantme. Don’t talk yourself into a courtship because it’s the lesser of several bad options. That way lies disappointment and dashed hopes.”
“You are so serious,” she said, stroking his hair. “I adore that you are so serious, so substantial, and I promise you, Ned, you are who I want.” How odd, that the right man was the man who did not try to bludgeon her with his charm or consequence, but rather, the fellow who insisted she think of and for herself.
Rosalind’s assurances apparently sealed the matter for Ned, because his kisses changed, becoming heated and deliberate. He shifted from caresses to Rosalind’s back to gradually frothing her skirts up high enough that he could stroke her thigh.
“No drawers, Rosalind?”
“The day is warm. I’m not wearing stays either.” Two chemises and a set of front-lacing jumps. Rosalind could breathe freely, in other words.
