Lucy laughed. “A bit.”
“Good. I like to shock people every now and then. Stops people taking me for granted. You should think about doing that, too. It’s also enormous fun.”
Lucy laughed again.
A few minutes later Lady Stornaway said thoughtfully, “And you know, your father—scoundrel as he undoubtedly is—didn’t give you such a bad start in life.”
Lucy turned to her in surprise, but the old lady continued, “He put you in good schools, even if only for a limited time, and there are worse assets a diplomat’s wife can have than fluency in two major European languages. Not to mention an ability to adjust to new situations. And giving you to Alice Paton to launch was a stroke of genius, even though his methods were wicked.”
Lucy frowned. She had never considered Papa’s actions in that light, but now that she thought about it, there was something in what Lady Stornaway said.
They reached Stornaway Manor, and the old lady handed over the reins to a groom. “I enjoyed our little chat, Miss Bamber, and I hope you’ll think about what I said.”
Gerald came out to greet them and helped his grandmother down. “This gel,” she said to him, “if you let her get away, you’re not the man I hope you are.”
He grinned. “Grandmama, I will do my best not to disappoint you.”
Lucy didn’t know where to look.
***
Gerald took Lucy straight into the small sitting room. “See, my grandmother knows everything, and she still approves of you. So can we agree that the betrothal stands? And when we get back to London, we can start to make arrangements for the wedding.” He reached for her, but she pushed his hands away.
“Are you sure, Gerald, because I need you to be very sure.”
“Sure of what? That I’ll make you happy? All I can promise is that I’ll try my very best.” His eyes darkened. “Am I sure that I love you? Oh, yes, I’m very,verysure of that.”
Lucy’s heart missed a beat and then started to thump in a rapid tattoo. Stunned, she stared at Gerald. “Youloveme?”
“Of course I love you, you goose. Haven’t I made it obvious?”
“Don’t call me a goose!” She was breathless, shocked, poised between tears and laughter.
“But youlovvvegeese. And so do I, ever since we were introduced by a goose called Ghislaine.” He reached for her again, but she stepped away.
“Stop it. Be serious and think about how it would be. There is so much I don’t know about how high society works. I’m never sure about precedence, for instance—”
“You can learn.”
“Or how to address a duke or a marquess—”
“You’ll pick it up. You’re very clever.”
“Then there’s all that cutlery at those big formal dinners.”
“Work from the outside in.”
“See? You know all that stuff without even thinking, because you were born to it. I wasn’t.
He caught her hands in his. “None of that stuff—noneof it—matters. I love you and I want to marry you. There is only one reason I will accept that you can’t marry me.”
Her insides tightened. “And what’s that?”
“That you don’t love me.”
There was a long pause. She eyed him from under lowered lashes, then made a frustrated sound. There was a limit to self-sacrifice. “Oh, very well, but if—when—I mess up and embarrass you, and make terrible mistakes and inadvertently insult important people, or unimportant ones, you must never reproach me or blame me or yell at me. Because I won’t allow it, do you hear? If you take me, you take me warts and all.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
