Page 74 of The Hired Hero
For a time, neither of them said anything as they just held each other.
Then she raised her head. “It seems Lucien has decided to take over the ordering of my life,” she said rather shakily.
Her father smiled. “Perhaps he has more sense than I give him credit for.”
Caroline wiped at her cheeks. “Men,” she sniffed. “They always think they know best.”
The duke pressed a kiss to her brow. “Ah, but we are quite quickly—and frequently—corrected of that delusion.”
* * *
Davenport rubbed at his temples.His head was feeling as if a score of revelers had danced on his skull, despite the fact that he had not imbibed overly much throughout the past evening.Or was it still the same evening?
He had lost all track of time as he lay tossing and turning in his bed, unable to fall into even a fitful slumber. He finally gave up trying. Throwing off the covers, he rose and went to stand by the window, staring out into the blackness that was still enveloping the terraced garden.
The images of dancers refused to bow out of his head.Caroline with this lord, Caroline with that lord.He wasn’t sure what was worse—imagining her in the arms of someone else or having to endure the actual sight of her there. His mood was as black as the outside…until one small ray of light pierced through his dark brooding.
She had told him that she would miss him. Despite his ill temper, his horrible moods and rough words, she still could say that. So maybe there was hope yet.
Hope of what?His fingers drummed on the window casement. The thought of life without her was like tumbling into an unfathomable abyss. And wasn’t the notion of such an empty existence even more frightening than the possibility of rejection?
If he didn’t try, he would, as Lucien had so rightly suggested, despise himself as a coward for the rest of his days. For he was being a coward now, and Caroline deserved better than that. She had never backed away from her fears or doubts. She had the courage to say what she felt. He should do no less…
No matter whether she laughed in his face or told him to go to the Devil.
His mouth quirked ruefully on trying to imagine just what her reaction to his declaration would be. Somehow, she seemed to be under the cork-brained impression that he didn’t have any regard for her. Well, he had his work cut out for him. But for some odd reason, he suddenly felt more at peace with himself than he had for ages.
He returned to his bed and fell into a deep sleep as soon as he closed his eyes.
* * *
A soft knockon the door interrupted Davenport’s second attempt to arrange the folds of his neckcloth just so. He didn’t usually fuss over matters of dress, but this morning, he wanted to be at his best. Sighing, he left off struggling with the length of linen and bade the maid to come in. Indeed, he was looking forward to the early-morning cup of coffee that he had requested be brought to his chamber each day—being a guest in such a well-run household as that of the duke had its little privileges.
He turned from the mirror, ready to voice his thanks, only to have his mouth drop in surprise at the sight of Caroline, instead of the expected servant, standing in the doorway.
“Before you begin ringing a peal over my head,” she said in a rush, “I know that I’m behaving like a hoyden again by coming to your room. But I simply had to speak with you before you left for Highwood.”
She hesitated to draw in a gulp of air. “Lucien told me last night that he had given you the idea—that is, he suggested to you that you should…”
The color rose to her face, and her eyes dropped away from his. “Drat it,” she stammered. “What I mean to say is, he told me he had tried to cajole you into…making an offer to me. I can’t imagine where he got the notion that…”
“Would it be so very terrible if I did?” asked the earl, barely louder than a whisper.
Her eyes came up slowly. “But you don’t even like me! I mean, you can’t forget that I stole your horse, called you all sorts of rude names and drank out of the bottle like a fishmonger…not to speak of making you drag me out of the mud, or putting your life at risk time and again.”
“No,” he agreed. “I can’t forget those things.” A pause. “Neither can I forget the way you brandished a pistol at four men to save my skin or how you tended my wound…or how you called out my name as I held you in my arms. I don’teverwant you to call out another man’s name like that.”
Her breath seemed to catch in her throat.
His own breathing had become a bit ragged as well. “Don’t like you?” he continued. “Why, I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you planted your fist on my nose that first morning I met you.”
“You have?” she said a bit uncertainly. “You mean you don’t think I?—”
“I mean that I want you to marry me, my dear Caroline.”
“A-Are you sure? Because I doubt I shall be able to change. I-I shall always be headstrong and outspoken.” Her mouth quivered for an instant. “Perhaps you will tire of having to pick me up out of the mud.”
Davenport took two quick strides and drew her into his arms. “I shall never tire of it, my love,” he said as he planted kisses on her forehead. “Indeed, my life would be sadly flat without having to try and keep up with you.” Then he turned serious. “Do you think that you can put up with all my faults? For I, too, fear I shall remain a growling bear at times. And you are all too aware of the state of my finances. I can hardly offer you the life to which you are accustomed.”
