Chapter 32

Marlowe was accustomed to feeling eyes on her. Normally she wasn’t bothered by it. It was only that tonight there were so

damned many all at once.

Standing at the top of the stairs with Langdon, waiting to be announced, she felt as though she had a thousand balloons flying

around, caught in a storm in her stomach. It was madness to have come and yet—

The grandeur of the ballroom fairly took her breath. Large gilded and crystal chandeliers. A mirrored wall that reflected

the room and made it seem like it went on forever. The gowns, the jewelry.

While she had selected a mauve gown with a fairly modest neckline, she had opted to forgo the pearl necklace Hollie had once

given her in favor of the medallion Langdon had gifted to her. She never took it off and tonight she thought she might need

it traveling through the ballroom.

When she glanced over at her escort, her breath left her completely. In evening attire, Langdon was simply too deuced gorgeous. Looking at him heated her to the point of combustion, made her want him so desperately, that she yearned to sneak off somewhere with him, take off his clothes, and lift her skirts—

Yes, madness, absolute madness.

The couple in front of them were announced. She and Langdon were next. She swallowed hard. His hand came to rest on hers where

it clung to his arm.

“Remember, we’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”

“There are so many people here, I don’t think the duke and duchess would have noticed if I didn’t come.”

“They’d have noticed. No one would have been on my arm.”

“I imagine at least half the unmarried ladies in this room are not going to be happy to see someone on your arm.”

“Only half?”

She laughed. “Your ego doesn’t need stroking.”

“Something else does.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Behave.”

He touched her chin, his eyes serious. “I care about the happiness of only one. Yours.”

Don’t don’t don’t make me want you more than I already do.

Before she could come up with a witty comeback, a deep voice was filling the ballroom.

“Marlowe and Lord Langdon!”

She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered how it might sound to have their names linked together. She’d never gone anywhere with Hollie where they’d been announced. The gossips had always referred to him as Lord H. Certainly there were those who saw them together, knew to whom she owed her allegiance but for the vast majority he was offered some protection, the focus on her, not him.

As Langdon began escorting her down the stairs, she said, “We should have been announced separately, to give you some distance

from me.”

“I don’t want distance from you.”

“Langdon—”

“You’re worrying about things that don’t matter. I’m perfectly capable of navigating my way through the briar patch. Relax

and enjoy your evening.”

They took the last step together and he walked over to a stunning couple, their hosts.

“Langdon,” the duke said sharply.

“Lovingdon.” He took the hand of the lady and pressed a light kiss against her knuckles. “Grace. Allow me the privilege of

introducing Marlowe.”

Marlowe dropped into a deep curtsy. “Your Graces. I am incredibly honored by your invitation.”

“We’re glad you could join us this evening,” the duchess said. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

She forced a smile. “I hope you don’t believe all of it.”

“My husband was once a favorite among the gossips. It can be quite the burden. We take all rumors with a grain of salt. Langdon

tells us you’re an aeronaut.”

She jerked her gaze over to him. He was watching her, with something akin to pride reflected in his eyes. It was an odd sensation

to be associated with flight rather than sin.

“Yes, Your Grace, it’s a hobby of mine.”

“You must come for tea, when I won’t have so many guests to greet, so you can take your time telling me about it. I’m most

curious.”

“My wife enjoys adventures,” the duke said, and the way he looked at the woman at his side told Marlowe that he loved her

deeply.

“It would be an honor to answer any of your questions about ballooning.”

“I look forward to our spending more time together. Enjoy your evening.”

Marlowe curtsied again and then took the arm that Langdon was offering to her. As they walked away, he asked, “That wasn’t

so bad, was it?”

“It was rather pleasant, although I don’t think she really expects me to come for tea.”

“Oh, I expect she does.”

When they were a good distance away, he stopped, reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew the dance card he’d been given

when they arrived. She had a much smaller one in the shape of a fan attached to her wrist.

“I’d like to waltz with you. Which is your favorite tune?” he asked.

She looked over the list. “‘Greensleeves.’”

“‘Greensleeves’ it is.” He wrote her name on his card, his on hers, in the appropriate places.

“Langdon.”

He looked up at the young woman with red hair. At her side was a tall, handsome man. “Minerva. Ashebury. Allow me the honor

of introducing Marlowe.”

She’d always rather fancied that she was known by one name, but tonight she was wishing she was Miss Tittering. Even if it wasn’t particularly elegant.

“Marlowe, the Duke and Duchess of Ashebury.”

Another curtsy. “An honor.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Minerva said. “It’s such a crush here tonight. But then it always is. I don’t think anyone declines

an invitation from them.” She turned her attention to Langdon. “Our latest investment is paying off quite nicely. I have an

idea for another. I’ll send the numbers round next week so you can let me know if you agree it’s viable.”

Langdon looked at Marlowe. “Minerva enjoys finding investment opportunities. Gambling with greater risks.”

The lady smiled brightly. “I am my father’s daughter.”

“And your father is...”

“Jack Dodger. Ah, there’s Rexton. I need to have a word with him as well.”

“After our dance,” the duke said and led her away.

Marlowe studied Langdon, had sensed the stillness coming over him as though preparing for a blow when Minerva had mentioned

numbers. “What will you do when you receive her calculations?”

“Pretend to study them and then tell her they’re viable. She’s seldom wrong.”

“Did you forget that I offered to help you with numbers?”

“There are a lot of numbers in my life, Marlowe.”

“Still...” Averting her gaze, she saw Hollie standing nearby, staring at her. Beside him was a small woman, with black hair and unremarkable features. So easy to be overlooked. Marlowe was glad, not because the lady offered no competition physically but because she knew that Hollie—so obsessed with beauty—truly loved the woman, had looked beneath the surface, something he rarely did.

She gave him a small smile, a subtle nod, striving to communicate that it was all right for him to give her a cut direct,

to walk away without acknowledgment. His gaze shifted to her left, to where Langdon stood, and whatever he saw there had him

escorting the lady toward them.

He stopped before her. “Marlowe, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“The duke and duchess were kind enough to invite me.”

“Of course they were.” He looked at Langdon, nodded as though coming to some conclusion. “Effie, darling, allow me to introduce

Marlowe, a dear friend of Lord Langdon’s here.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Effie, blushing, said so quietly that Marlowe almost didn’t hear her over the din of the conversations

surrounding them.

“I saw your announcement in the Times . What a fortunate lady you are to hold Lord Hollingsworth’s heart. I wish you naught but happiness in the years to come.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Not at all. I don’t know him well, but I have on occasion seen the goodness in him.”

Effie smiled as though Marlowe had placed a crown on his head. The young woman turned her attention to Langdon. “I suppose

Poppy is here.”

“I have yet to see her, but I do know she is coming. If you will both be kind enough to excuse us, I promised Marlowe this dance.” Langdon offered his arm and she wrapped hers around it, grateful when he led her away from one of the most awkward situations in her life.

As he guided her over the dance floor, Langdon wasn’t certain—that under similar circumstances—he could have exhibited the

same grace that Marlowe had. Before the couple had come over, he’d been able to tell from Hollingsworth’s posture that he

was considering ignoring her, or worse, giving her a cut direct. Langdon had managed to signal that if he did either of those

things, there would be hell to pay.

He’d been able to promise Marlowe there wouldn’t be a repeat of the incident at the Dragons because he was well aware the

tale of it had made the rounds, embellished here and there, growing to epic proportions until most realized she was under

his protection and that he was damned serious about safeguarding her. She might not be pleased to realize that, but he would

do all in his power to ensure she never suffered such an insult again.

How dare anyone judge her! How dare anyone not properly assess the worth of her!

A young woman taking care of her mother, striving to undo damage done by her father. Taking on burdens that weren’t hers to

carry.

“He truly loves her,” Marlowe said. “Thank goodness, I don’t think Lady Effie knows about my role in his life.”

“Few do. The gossip focused on you, not him.”

“That’s the way of it, isn’t it? A woman puts a foot wrong, and everyone is aghast and eager to point fingers at her. A man,

however, his transgressions are overlooked. A man of the nobility... if his misbehavior is bad enough, suddenly he is an

initial, not a name. That’s the reason you can duel. You’re all forgiven. Although tonight might do some damage to your reputation.

With the exception of Chadbourne, I believe every noble in Christendom must be here.”

“I suspect you’re correct. Are you glad you came?” he asked.

“So far, but you don’t have to watch over me. I’m certain a goodly number of ladies would like to dance with you.”

“But it is you, alone, with whom I wish to dance.”

“Don’t get accustomed to this. I won’t be attending any more balls with you. This isn’t where I belong.”

“You belong in the sky, chasing after rainbows.”

“I’ll be back at it soon. My basket should be ready in two weeks.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. That time frame probably means

nothing to you.”

“You can come to my residence and mark it in my diary. I’ve discovered when I turn the pages, I create a visual image of the

day getting nearer. It gives me an idea of how time passes.”

“I can’t accept your offer to pay for it, though.”

“I give gifts to my friends.”

“Tonight is the last gift I’ll accept. And it is a gift. Growing up, I always dreamed of attending a ball as glamorous as

this one.”

“Eventually your father would have had to tell you the truth.”

She nodded. “I’ve often wondered when he might have done it. What other lies he might have spun. But here I am where I always

thought I would be. I’m trying to memorize everything so I can share it with my mother. She still believes I’m a seamstress.

I’m not ashamed of what I do, Langdon, but I don’t know how she would take it.”

“I should think she’d be proud of you.”

He caught the sight of a tear glistening in her eye before she blinked it away.

She’d worked hard to increase her value, not realizing she’d been valuable all along.

“I did have a nefarious reason for bringing you tonight.”

She arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Mmm. All of my immediate and most of my extended family are here. It seemed the appropriate place.”

“For what?”

“To ask you to marry me.”

Marlowe wasn’t certain which one of them had stopped first, but suddenly they were standing in the middle of the dance floor,

people waltzing around them.

She was certain she’d not heard correctly. In addition to the orchestra playing, a cornucopia of noises echoed around the room, loud enough to affect a person’s hearing. Many kept a hand cupped around an ear in an effort to hear more clearly. Or perhaps it was simply that in her more recent fan tasies, he’d asked for her hand—and she was presently dreaming. She would soon awaken with an emptiness in her soul.

Still, whether dream or reality, she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

His grin was small, tender, and very nearly apologetic. “I don’t want doubt regarding how precious you are. How deserving

you are of any dream you’ve ever dreamt. I want you for my wife.”

She nearly released a sharp bark of laughter. “Have you forgotten what I am? The portrait the newspapers have painted of me? If you married me, you’d be shunned, cast out of this upper tier of

Society. Langdon, I’ve nurtured my reputation. I’m fit to be a man’s mistress, not his wife.”

He studied her for what seemed eons before nodding, as though acknowledging to himself a decision made. “Then be my mistress.”

She shook her head. “I can’t. You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

She looked around frantically, not certain if she was searching for the answer or an escape. She loved him too much to burden

him with any of this. Her reputation. The gossip. And she loved him too much to be with him when he married. “I can’t share

you. I won’t share you. Therefore it would be only until you marry, but it would be too hard, too hard to see you walking

away from me into another’s arms.”

“I’ll never marry.”

He said the words with such finality that she was taken aback. “Of course you’ll marry.”

“And be unfaithful to you? I think not.”

What was he on about? It was to his wife he’d be unfaithful. “Once you marry, I’ll move on.”

With one hand, he cupped her face in that gentle way he had and touched his thumb to her healed mouth. “Would you be able

to abandon me with such ease?”

The pain of watching him live out his life with another would force her to leave not only him but London. Still it was imperative

he not know how she would be torn asunder when he married.

“Because I could never leave you,” he added before she came up with a rejoinder. “I want to be with you until I draw my last

breath.”

“And what of your family?” she asked succinctly, returning to his first question. “Could they survive the embarrassment if

I married you?”

“You’ve met them. When all is said and done, do you believe they give a tinker’s curse what Society thinks?”

“Langdon—”

“You don’t deserve to live in shadows, Marlowe. You don’t deserve to spend evenings hidden away. You got caught in a maelstrom

of bad decisions that were chosen by others. You made the best of the situation. But if you could shake off the past, what

would you want for your future?”

Not fair. Not fair. Because he was what she wanted. He was what she would always want. But she was tainted. However, the thought

of being with this man for the remainder of her days...

Even if they only spent them in bed, the days would fill her to bursting with contentment.

His hand fell away from her face and she was bereft at the absence of his touch. She dearly wanted to grab his hand and return it to where it had been.

“Perhaps I’ve gone about this all wrong,” he said somberly. “Certainly I could have come to your residence with my proposal,

but I wanted witnesses, I wanted you to see that I’m not ashamed or embarrassed to be with you. I love you, Marlowe. I love

how courageous you are. To go up in the sky. I love how compassionate you are. To offer me solace when locked in the throes

of a nightmare. I love how you see a problem and search for solutions. You’re going to keep track of numbers for me. I love

the kindness you showed my sister when she was embarrassed at her reaction when she looks down from on high. I love you for

your loyalty to Hollingsworth. I love everything about you.”

He lowered himself to one knee. “So I ask again, with everything that I am, with everything that I will ever be, with a heart

that will forever be only yours, regardless of your answer... will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my viscountess, one

day my countess, my keeper of secrets, and my lover?”

She was acutely aware of the din fading away and eyes coming to rest on him and her. Looking into Langdon’s pewter eyes, she

saw all the love he held for her, all the promises he’d make over the years, promises he would keep. She saw in her arms a

little boy with eyes the same shade as his.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She felt very much as she’d felt when she’d been caught in the tempest, clinging to the gondola for dear life, not certain what fate awaited her. Terrified.

She still didn’t know what fate awaited her—and it was frightening to leave behind a life she knew how to navigate, in order

to travel through one that had yet to be mapped out—but she knew that together nothing could defeat them.

“I love you,” she told him. “And because I do, so very much, I know I should decline your proposal, I should say no, but there

is nothing I want more than to be your wife, to share your life.”

He was a blur as he shot to his feet, took her in his arms, and latched his mouth onto hers. She heard claps and cheers. From

his family no doubt, from all the members he’d told her would stand at his back in defense of her.

Hence it was that the following morning several gossip sheets reported the most infamous courtesan in London had received

what was certain to be the most romantic marriage proposal of the Season.