Page 118 of Saving Miss Pratt

Lady Cartwright’s appeared calculating, a spark lighting behind them as she no doubt realized an heir to a viscountcy—regardless of his financial state—was a far superior match than a country curate.

Skin on Timothy’s neck itched from Victor’s perceptive gaze as if he were privy to what had transpired between him and Priscilla.

And Priscilla’s eyes sparkled with amusement. The termagant.

But she washistermagant—if she would have him.

He cleared his throat, which had suddenly become clogged with emotion. “I’ve asked Miss Pratt to marry me, but she has yet to give me her answer.” He faced Priscilla. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Collectively, all eyes turned toward his—hopefully—future bride, waiting.

She tapped a gloved finger to her lips and tilted her lovely head, as if pondering the simple question.

He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when a grin broke across her face.

“I suppose I could bear being a physician’s wife. Yes, Dr. Marbry, I will marry you.”

“Huzzah!” Timothy wanted to pick her up and spin her around, then thoroughly ravish her. He refrained from both. There would be a time and place for the latter. Hopefully, in the not too distant future.

Filled with new confidence, Timothy addressed his future father-in-law. “If it’s agreeable, may I call upon Miss Pratt tomorrow and discuss the marriage contract with you, sir?”

Lady Cartwright dabbed her eyes with her crumpled handkerchief. “Someone needs to inform Mr. Netherborne.”

Victor darted a glance toward Priscilla, then addressed his parents. “Let’s spare Cilla the discomfort of facing him. Why don’t you two go back to the church? I’ll stay here as chaperone with Cilla and Dr. Marbry in case there are any repercussions from Mr. Netherborne.”

Fear notched up Timothy’s spine. “Do you think there will be?”

“Pfft.” Priscilla’s unladylike response brought a smile to his face and a reprimanding look from her mother. “I highly doubt it. He will likely count himself fortunate to be rid of me and my scandalous behavior.”

Timothy smiled inwardly, anticipating all the scandalous behavior on his and Priscilla’s horizon.

And it didn’t matter.

* * *

Priscilla pressedher nails into her abused palms once more. This time not to keep her alert, but to verify the recent events were not a dream.

Victor positioned himself in a chair at the back of Timothy’s small parlor, his eyes never leaving Timothy seated on the sofa next to Priscilla. Each time Timothy would inch closer, Victor would make a noise from the back of his throat.

“Are you growling at us, Victor?” she asked. “Do relax. After all, Timothy and I are engaged.”

Timothy leaned closer, eliciting another growl from Victor. “Is he always like this?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s really harmless and actually quite charming. I think you’ll like him once the shock has worn off.”

“I can’t offer you much, Priscilla.” He motioned around his minimally furnished parlor. “If you haven’t heard, my father has left us in financial difficulty. If it hadn’t been for Montgomery, we would have been completely ruined.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.

Was he nervous?

“I’m not proud of it, but it’s one reason I sought an attachment with Lady Honoria. She had a substantial dowry.”

Priscilla nodded. “And she’s respectable. Something I cannot giveyou.” Was nervousness contagious? “You may well regret your decision to take me as your wife.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Never. I’ve learned what’s important. My employer, however, may prove to be a challenge. But if I’ve learned anything about Ashton, he’s a fair man. With time, he will come to accept you—us.”

“I hope so. What if there’s something I can do to win him over? I shall make it a priority to find a way. Perhaps Honoria could assist me. She does seem to love solving problems.”

Timothy laughed, the bright carefree sound sending gooseflesh up her arms.

---