“Waiting to abduct me, you mean.” She cast a glance at his carriage – the only unmarked vehicle in his fleet.
“Victims of abductions do not willingly approach their abductors and remain for chit-chat. But I have not asked you here to trade more barbs with you, Miss Pembroke. If you would.”
He walked toward the waiting carriage and opened the door for her. Margaret looked at him like he had gone mad.
“You cannot be serious. This habit of yours, luring vulnerable women into shadowy carriages, tends to have devastating consequences. I refuse to go anywhere with you until you tell me what you want, Your Grace.”
She spoke his title with venom.
“Miss Pembroke, if you are so affronted by my attempts to speak with you, then I encourage you to walk home alone as you had planned. But I have an offer for you – and it is not an offer I will attempt to extend a second time once this carriage leaves.”
Chewing on her lower lip, Margaret gave the matter a second’s thought. Then she yanked up her skirts and climbed into the carriage. Alexander followed, checking to make sure they weren’t being watched – though whether thetoncaught them in a compromised position again would hardly matter once he presented her with his proposition.
Once inside, Alexander settled opposite Margaret. He rapped twice on the wall, and the carriage lurched forward. Daylight seeped through the windows, casting shadows over the patterned velvet interior. He drew the curtains halfway, feeling Margaret watch him. She sat rigid, and he tensed under her gaze. Her effect on him was undeniable, and she looked particularly alluring that afternoon now that she had removed her hood. Her cheeks and lips were nipped red from the cold outside, her dark brown hair tousled from the wind.
“Well?” she demanded. “Why have you orchestrated this meeting?”
Any lingering admiration he had for Margaret quickly dissipated at her tone.
“Last night, I heard some bothersome news,” he said.
“Regarding what, precisely?”
“Your betrothal to Baron Faversham.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her face. She looked down at her hands. The tips of some white gloved fingers had been stained green from the grass. She was still clutching to the object she had picked up: a small blue handkerchief.
“If you know everything already, this meeting seems highly unnecessary.” Her fingers flexed around the fabric, and he caught her chin trembling. “My mother ordered that we allowthe baron a few days to collect himself. A few days then passed, and he called to say that he was no longer interested in continuing with the betrothal, as he feared that in nine months I would give birth to your child.”
“I see...”
“My mother then suggested I call upon him personally tomorrow and force him to reconsider.” She paused. “But I do not want to visit him. I do not believe his mind can be changed.”
Alexander studied Margaret in the dim carriage light. The woman was an enigma. She seemed devoted to her family, wanting desperately to save them from ruin, but at the same time refused to act in any way that would make that possible.
“Then perhaps you should hear now what I have come to suggest.”
There was no hesitation in his voice. He had ruminated over their situation all night. He had come to the only reasonable conclusion, having whittled down the potential solutions to their problem until only the most logical remained.
“You will marry me.”
Margaret blanched. She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“Marry you?” she whispered.
Alexander met her gaze evenly. Now that the words had exited him, he had no fear.
“Yes.” He leaned forward. “It is a direct and sensible response to the article, and the most honorable thing to do besides.”
“It is a lie,” Margaret said, leaning forward too. “Marrying one another would only make us look guilty. You know as well as I do that nothing happened at Somerstead Hall.”
“Society believes that I compromised you regardless. Marrying you would restore you in their eyes. They will believe that ours was a mistake borne of passion, one for which we will atone in the eyes of the Lord through our marriage.”
“But my honor is not yours to protect,” Margaret said, suddenly pensive. “Do not mistake me, Your Grace. That you would suggest such a thing is... It is eminently kind and has left me speechless. Yet one of us must point out the obvious.”
“Which is?”
“You do notwantto marry me.”
