A crease formed between her delicately arched brows. “Why not?”
“Brave deeds—and dark ones too, for that matter—happen everywhere in war, at all levels. An illiterate foot soldier might perform the most heroic deed you’ve ever seen, but should a duke’s nephew rattle a saber or take part in a charge, it will be him who’s mentioned in dispatches, not the illiterate.” And that would deal with her tendency to hero worship.
“I see.” Her eyes were dark and troubled. “Why are you telling me all these things to your discredit?”
“Because if you accept me, you need to know what kind of man you’ll be marrying. I won’t lie to you, Lily; I’m no bargain. All I can promise you is a home, security for your lifetime and”—he swallowed—“any children of my body. But that is all.” He hoped she understood.
The blush bloomed again, but she considered his words in silence for a few moments. Then, “And your offer of marriage is only because of the scandal?”
“Yes. I thought I made that clear at the beginning.” Final illusions crushed. He felt like a brute, but it had to be done for her own good. “So, Lady Lily Rutherford, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
She was quiet for a few minutes, then looked up. “If I do marry you, will you promise not to lie to me?”
He hesitated a moment but could see no harm in that. He might be less than she deserved, but he intended to do right by her. “I promise.”
“And will you be a faithful husband?” When he did not immediately answer, she added quietly, “It is a consideration when one is marrying a rake, you see. Given such things as house parties.”
“And if I say no, that I intend to continue my rakish ways?”
“Then I would have to refuse your very kind offer.”
“Even though you’d be ruined in the eyes of the world?”
She nodded. She seemed quite certain, quite unruffled by the prospect. She was either courageous or naïve. He decided on the latter. She had no idea of what she might be facing.
He gave her a frustrated look. “Very well then, I promise you that once we are married I will be faithful to you and only you.” It was not a hard thing to promise. Any man lucky enough to have Lily Rutherford in his bed would be a fool to stray.
She eyed him thoughtfully and the crease between her brows deepened.
“What are you thinking?” he asked after the silence had stretched to an unbearable point.
“I’m thinking you might come to regret that promise—both of them,” she admitted.
He shrugged. “What’s life without regrets?”
She considered that a moment, then shook her head briskly. “No, I was wrong to ask you. I give you back both your promises.”
Was that a refusal? “But—”
“Honesty and fidelity cannot be forced. Unless they are freely given they have no value. Society, my aunt Agatha and my brother might have forced your hand to this marriage, but it’s up to us to make it work.”
He frowned. “You mean we should go into it without expectations?” It was exactly what he’d wanted from her; if she expected nothing of him, he couldn’t disappoint her. So why did the prospect now make him feel so unsettled?
“It’s not exactly how I’d put it, but yes, if you will accept that I will do my best to be a good wife to you and you will—” She waited, giving him an expectant look.
“Try to be a good husband.” And try not to disappoint her too much.
“Then God bless us both.”
God help us, Ned thought. And then he realized the implications of what she’d said. “Does that mean—?”
“Yes, Mr. Galbraith, I will marry you.”
• • •
Leaving Edward and Cal to discuss settlements, Lily walked slowly upstairs, dawdling in order to put off the moment when she would have to tell Rose and Emm and George that she’d accepted him. Against all their advice. And wishes.
She was betrothed to Mr. Galbraith—to Edward. She should have beenin alt, or over the moon, or any one of the usual states newly betrothed girls were supposed to feel. Instead she felt... She didn’t know what she felt.
