She didn’t know any of his secrets, other than the one about Felicity’s existence, which wasn’t really a secret. Anyway, it wasn’t his secret. He’d merely acted as any loving brother would, stepping in and doing the honorable thing to save a child.
Yet his family hated him. What had he done to make them despise him? And why did he despise himself as deeply as they did?
And why did she secretly wish to marry him?
No! No, no, no!
But the butterflies in her stomach were doing their Ian-frenzied happy dance.
She let out a sob and ran from the library.
***
Ian shoved his way through the crowd of Farthingales and warned them to stay back while he chased after Dillie. He caught up to her as she hurried up the staircase in the entry hall. “Dillie, stop.”
But she wouldn’t.
He reached her on the third step and took her into his arms, trying to be as gentle as possible while she struggled to break free. Her feelings had been badly bruised by her family’s distrust and he wasn’t about to add physical bruises. “Calm down and listen to me. It’s going to be all right.”
“How? By your being beaten into a loveless marriage? By my destroying your freedom and happiness?” She continued to struggle, but he wouldn’t let her go. Finally, she gave up and set her hands on his chest. She leaned into him and moaned. “Oh, Ian. Why did you come after me?”
“As you said, I was never all that happy.” He wrapped his arms around her, wanting to hold her close, determined to protect her from the ugliness she would surely endure for the rest of her life unless he fixed things.
She gazed at him a long moment, saying nothing.
His heart tightened and began to pound hard within his chest. He’d been surrounded by a sea of unfriendly faces, been pummeled by Julian and Graelem. He’d stood alone... as always. None of it had frightened him.
However, the look in Dillie’s eyes right now had him shaking in his boots.
She looked delicate and beautiful. There was a magical, ethereal quality about her with those pearls shimmering in her luscious dark hair. She was young and incredibly vulnerable, yet at the same time, brave. The way she had chased off his attackers last November was quite something.
He knew what he had to do. “This is my fault. I’m not going to run from the consequences.” He tipped her chin upward so that her gaze met his. There was only one possible solution to this problem. “I owe you, Dillie. You saved my life.”
He released her and bent on one knee, a gesture that could not be mistaken by her or the horde of relatives watching them.
Dillie gasped and let out another sob. “Ian, you idiot! Get up.”
Not the response he expected. “No. Let me do this.”
“But you don’t owe me anything. I don’t need you to save me. I’ll save myself.”
“How?” He was offering to marry her. He was willing to make the sacrifice, a rather noble sacrifice. A monumental sacrifice for him. Perhaps she was too overset to realize what he’d just offered to share. His name. His title. His wealth.
She tugged on his shoulders to yank him up, but he refused to budge. “There must be a better solution. There has to be,” she insisted.
He glanced at her family. The women were all silent and holding their breaths. The men had their fists curled, itching to do him bodily damage if the outcome was not to their liking. He turned back to her, hating the look of misery in her eyes. “There isn’t. Death-by-angry-family is a most unpleasant way to die. I’m not keen on ending up that way.”
She dabbed at the tears still streaming down her cheeks. He noticed that she was still holding tight to his handkerchief and she had her hand on his shoulder, clinging to him for support. She liked him, felt comfortable with him. This could work. She might even love him, if her response to his kisses was any indication. Of course, Dillie, being who she was, would never admit that she loved him. Not to him or to herself.
She let out a shaky breath and sat on a step in order to meet his gaze as he knelt. He loved the soft way she looked at him, the gentle warmth of her eyes, and the beauty of her hesitant smile. “You’re not going to die at the hands of my family. In any event, you’re a wealthy duke. You can survive anything.” She placed her hand against his cheek, caressed it. “And you’re handsome, too. And brave. And wonderful.”
“Is that a yes?” Because he was seriously starting to rethink this marriage issue. Avoiding it like the plague wasn’t working out too well for him. Having a wife had its benefits. For one thing, the scheming, marriage-minded mothers and their insipid daughters would stop chasing him.