“My man was instructed to wake me at eight. It’s early yet—”
There was a tap at the door, and a low voice called, “ ’Tis eight o’ the clock, milord.”
Westman scowled, and Josie grinned. “It’s not meant to be,” she said and rose to dress.
“Wait.” Westman caught her arm and looked up at her with an intensity that almost made her squirm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is there something—?”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “It’s only . . . I have something . . . oh, bloody hell. There’s no good way or time to do this.”
And then to her horror, he slid off the bed and sunk down on one knee.
“Miss Hale, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Oh, good Lord! No!”
STEPHEN KNELT ON THE cold, hard floor and stared up at Josephine Hale. Had she just refused his offer of marriage? “I beg your pardon,” he said, his voice growing hard.
She shook her head at him. “I said no.”
“I see.” He rose, looked about for his trousers, and located them in a heap on the floor. Thankfully, she was doing the same, and when he faced her again, she was dressed. “Might I ask why you refuse my offer? Why, after I kneel on the bloody hard floor and make you a respectable offer, you refuse it?”
She looked up from tucking her shirttails into her boy’s trousers. “Because I do not want to marry you.” She began to turn away from him, searching for her boots, but he grabbed her elbow and turned her back to face him.
“And you think I want to marry you?” he asked with a laugh. “But there’s no choice now. What’s done is done.”
“Yes, and it was a very pleasant romp. So thank you, but no thank you.”
Stephen stared at her. He’d never met a woman so unmoved by an experience like what they’d shared last night. Well, he’d never before felt an experience like that, so perhaps that was part of it. Not that an enjoyable few hours in bed were usually grounds for him to propose marriage, but this time was different.
“Miss Hale,” Stephen said, “I understand your reservations, but I must ask you to think logically.”
She shot him a glare.
“You are compromised. I don’t know what, if any, arrangements were made to cover up this excursion of yours, but let me assure you that people will find out. Servants talk. Travelers talk. Word will get back to Town that we were together here. Your reputation will be in tatters. We must marry, not only to save it, but because I do not relish the thought of your father jamming a pistol in my temple and demanding we marry.”
Josephine smiled indulgently. “Papa would never do that. He might send one of my brothers, but they’re young, and you can certainly outmaneuver them.”
Stephen ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, as usual. “Yes, I probably can outmaneuver your brothers, but you miss my point.”
“No, I didn’t. You’re worried about my reputation, and I find that very sweet.”
“Sweet? Sweet? Miss Hale, I am a lot of things, but I am not sweet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very well, I find it thoughtful, but you needn’t worry. Once we find the treasure, no one will care about the rest. And if they do, we’ll tell them all to go to the devil. I’ll be an independent woman then. It won’t matter what Society says.”
Stephen could see that, like most females, Josephine Hale was sadly lacking in logic. He would get nowhere unless he made the issue patently clear. “And what about the child?” he said, crossing his arms. “How do you intend to deal with that small matter?”
She frowned at him, opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Stephen raised a brow. He had her now.
“W-What are you talking about?” she finally stammered. “What child?”
Stephen indicated her flat belly. “My child. The one you may very well be carrying in your womb at this moment. You see, Miss Hale”—he leaned forward, closing the gap between them—“in your haste to seduce me early this morning, there is one issue you did not take into consideration. That of protection.”
“Protection?”
