The Cheer in Charming an Earl(40)
Grantham laughed despite himself. “I can see that.” But the funny thing was that he did see it. He also saw how easily he’d been about to give up. Grantham the gambler was the cautious one, and Elinor the innocent miss was the buccaneer.
It was time for Grantham to be the adventurer.
“Did you mean to trap me into marriage?” he asked plainly.
He watched her face for any sign of duplicity, but all he saw was honesty. “No, my lord. Not that I didn’t intend for us to marry. I admit fully to that. I did think that once we had a chance to become familiar, you’d come to realize we suit.” Her eyes were wide as saucers.
He didn’t like having to rethink his opinion of her scheme. Rash, foolish, dangerous, but not malicious. Much like his younger sister’s tragic attempt to espy the groom from the hayloft had been. Elinor had never meant to hurt anyone; she’d simply followed her heart without stopping to consider the consequences.
There were, unfortunately, significant consequences. “You’re ruined, you know,” he told her.
She blanched. No tears, however. His little watering pot had learned how to control them. “Aunt Millie says news of my misfortune is all over the countryside. Even Gavin heard the rumors all the way in Gloucester. That’s why he rode hard to fetch me. So yes, I am quite aware of it.”
Only a few days earlier, Grantham had felt no sympathy for her. But it was within his power to make things right for her, and to be honest, what needed to be done felt right for him, too. “We could still marry.”
She sighed; not the swept-off-her-feet reaction he’d expected. “But my lord, I’ll always be the girl who took a tumble into the midst of a Christmas bacchanalia, regardless of whether I marry the host—possibly even more so because of it.” A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. “It would be humorous, except it’s not.”
Grantham felt the first stirring of fear. What if she didn’t accept him? What if his angry words four days ago had caused her to reconsider the strength of her devotion to him? “Surely you’re not saying you see no benefit to our being wed?”
She shrugged and traced the center of the windowpane with her gloved fingertip. It was cold in the carriage house. Their breath was fogging the inside of the glass. “I see many benefits to our union , my lord. The salvage of my reputation isn’t one of them. I fear a wedding would only fuel the gossips. I shall be Mrs. Bacchanalia to them, or Lady Bacchus, if you prefer. Aunt Millie says the scandalmongers will be vicious.”
She wasn’t crying or complaining, merely stating what she believed to be fact. Grantham let out a sudden guffaw. “Lady Bacchus! And I suppose I would be Lord Bacchus. But only Lord and Lady B in the papers, to satisfy discretion.” He leaned toward her. “I’d never wish such a vile appellation on you. Not my dear wife.”
She drew the letters L. B. in the center of the fogged window. Then she turned to him. A smile broke across her face. “Do you really want to marry me?”
He slid from the bench onto the carriage floor and settled on one bent knee. His hands clasped hers. “More than anything I’ve ever wanted. You brighten my life with your curiosity. I want to know you, inside and out. I want to watch you dream and then I want to make those dreams come true. I want you to tell me that nothing is impossible if only we set our minds to it. And I want to make sure you never do anything so harebrained as risk your life again.”
“Not even for you?” Her grin was infectious.
“Especially not for me.” Grantham leaned forward and kissed her. She sighed softly against his lips and he knew, without a doubt, that he was going to enjoy bringing Miss Elinor Conley’s fancies to life.