“I knew she was a terrible chaperone,” Vivian commented, earning a sharp glance from the earl.
Beyond them, Suttersby groaned and moved his head. Fitz and Oliver crossed the grass and pulled him to his feet. He wobbled unsteadily between them.
“The devil,” Oliver said coolly. “He looks worse than the other chap. Really, Royce, you need to control this urge to beat people to a pulp.”
“He hurt Mary.” Royce’s voice was as stony as his face.
“I see. Well, he won’t be hurting anyone now.” Oliver turned toward the others. “Treadwell, Fitzhugh, let’s take this rogue to the magistrate. Go around the side of the house; the last thing we want is everyone seeing this. I’ll be right behind you with Miss Dalrymple.” He took the woman firmly by the arm and turned toward Vivian, raising a brow. “Lady Vivian? Cousins? If you would be so good as to return to the party …”
“Yes, yes, I know. We will go back and act as though nothing exciting has occurred.” Vivian linked arms with Charlotte. “Let’s see, what excuse shall we give to these gentlemen for leaving the party so abruptly? A digestive problem perhaps?”
Mary’s sisters hesitated, looking at Mary uncertainly.
“I’ll take care of her,” Royce assured them. “Return to the party. I will see Mary home and send the carriage back for you.”
“Go ahead.” Mary smiled at her sisters. “No need to miss your first ball. Though, Camellia, you might want to pin up that ruffle. It seems to have gotten torn.”
Camellia grinned. “I have to say, Miss Dalrymple put up a good fight.”
The girls followed the other women back into the house, leaving Mary and Royce alone in the garden. He turned and swept Mary up into his arms and carried her back through the garden, following the path that the men had taken around the side of the house.
Mary giggled. “You don’t need to carry me. I can walk. I’m perfectly all right.”
“I am carrying you.” His voice brooked no opposition, and Mary subsided, happy simply to rest her head on his shoulder.
When he reached their carriage, he placed her inside, telling the driver tersely that Miss Bascombe had twisted her ankle. He climbed inside and took Mary into his arms again, holding her all the way home to Willowmere. Mary did not object.
She did manage a protest when they reached Willowmere and Royce lifted her out of the carriage to carry her into the house. “Really, Royce, this is absurd. I’m not ill.”
“Shh. Let me take care of you. I have made a hundred mistakes, and I mean to start making up for them now.”
The servants clustered around them with cries of alarm, and Royce sent them scurrying off with a demand for a stiff brandy and Miss Bascombe’s maid. He carried her up the stairs and deposited her gently on her bed. Then he stepped out while Prue fussed over Mary, helping her change into her nightgown and brushing out her hair. Mary was relieved when Royce knocked and came back into the room with a glass of brandy and sent the maid off to bed.
“Here, drink this.” Royce handed the glass to Mary, who was sitting in bed, pillows stuffed behind her back.
“I’m not in a swoon.” Mary raised the snifter anyway and took a sip. She winced as the fiery liquid ran down her throat and burst in her stomach, then gave a little shiver.
“I am sure you are not, but I hope it will weaken your resistance.”
“Are you planning to seduce me?” Mary asked with a sly smile.
“I am planning to propose.” He paused, grimacing. “For the fourth time.”#p#分页标题#e#
Mary giggled and took another sip of the brandy. “I think it’s the fifth.”
She was already giddy before the liquor hit her. It didn’t matter anymore what Royce said; she knew her answer. She had known it when she struggled in Egerton Suttersby’s hold, terrified that she might never see Royce again, and had realized how foolish it was to throw away her life with him because she was afraid she might be unhappy. If he did not love her now, she had an entire lifetime to change that. And Mary had never been one who was afraid of a challenge.
Royce smiled. “You are doubtless enjoying my humiliation. You have every right to. I am a fool. I have been a fool for a long time, and the past few weeks, I’ve been even a greater one than usual. I loved Sabrina years ago—I admit it. It was a young man’s passion, and when she threw me over to marry Lord Humphrey, I was furious. I gave up on the idea of love. I tarred all women with the same brush. But I have finally realized how very mistaken I was.”