A Lady Never Tells(110)
Mary was unable to suppress a certain smug satisfaction when she entered the anteroom where they all gathered before the evening meal and Royce looked at her, then straightened, staring as if he had never seen her before. Mary gave him a regal nod before she strolled over to join Fitz and Lily in conversation.
She could feel Royce’s eyes on her throughout the meal. She managed to refrain from returning his gaze most of the time, though once she could not help but turn her head toward him. His green eyes were intent on her, and when their gazes met, something sparked in his eyes that sent an answering shiver down her spine. Quickly she turned her gaze back to her meal, waiting for the tremor of sensation to subside.
After the meal, she was careful to sit between two of her sisters on the sofa in the drawing room, so that when the men rejoined them after their port, there was no possibility of Royce conversing with Mary alone. Whatever he had wanted to discuss this afternoon—probably another lecture about how wrong the whole incident in the summerhouse had been and how much he regretted it, with added declarations that he would make sure it never happened again—she did not want to hear it tonight.
However, Mary was well aware of how single-minded Sir Royce could be, so she had little hope that he would simply abandon the idea of a conversation. It did not surprise her, therefore, when the following morning Sir Royce jumped up to follow her out of the breakfast room as soon as she had finished her meal.
Reaching out to take her arm, he said without preamble, “I would like to speak with you in private.”
Mary’s heart began to thump. His face was remote and deadly serious; she felt almost as if she did not know him. She grabbed at the first excuse she could think of. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for our lessons with Miss Dalrymple.”
“I’m sure she would not object to our taking a stroll about the garden first.”
It was pointless, Mary knew. She had to face him sometime. She might as well get it over with. It would be awful; already her insides were churning, but she hoped she would get through it without giving way to tears.
“Of course.” Mary smiled stiffly. “Pray let me get my bonnet.”
When she returned with her hat, Sir Royce was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He led her down the hall and held open the back door for her. Mary swept out onto the terrace and trotted down the steps, tying on her bonnet as she went. She did not look at him, and she was relieved that he did not offer her his arm as they walked along in silence. She tried to think of some commonplace topic, some pleasantry, but her head was too filled with memories of the day before. She could not keep out the sight of his face, suffused with desire, or forget the feel of his chest beneath her hand, the taste of him upon her tongue …
She picked up her pace.
“I had not realized we were in a race,” Royce commented dryly.
“I like a brisk walk.”
“Clearly. But I have something to say to you, and I have no desire to chase you down the path shouting at the top of my voice.”
“Then perhaps you should not have asked to go for a walk.”
“Mary, please … I know you are angry with me, and you have every right to be. But allow me the opportunity to—to do what I can to set it right.”
Mary stopped, surprised, and turned to him. “I am not angry.”
“You should be. I—my actions were reprehensible. I behaved like a cad. I have no excuse.”
Mary’s face burned. “There is no need to apologize. You were not the only participant.”
His eyebrows rose, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I should have known that you would not respond in the typical way.”#p#分页标题#e#
“I am sorry if I am not sufficiently well-bred. No doubt you would prefer it if I collapsed with the vapors, but I am afraid I have no idea how to do that and I would feel perfectly ridiculous attempting it. What happened, happened, and it seems to me that the best thing is to simply go on and—and forget it.”
“I am afraid I cannot do that,” he responded gravely. “I crossed a line, and I must apologize for that.”
“Very well. I accept your apology.” Mary nodded at him and turned away.
“Wait. I have not finished.”
She pivoted back. “What else is there to say?”
“Here. Let us sit down.” He led her to a stone bench.
“All right.” Mary sat down, eyeing him warily.
Royce sat beside her, then rose and walked a few steps away, turned, and came back. “I, um, I had a speech prepared, but it sounds unbearably foolish now as I think of it. I—Mary, will you—that is, well, I am asking you to marry me.”