Chapter Twenty

O wen felt quite giddy. He was asking Ellis to marry him so that he could protect her, and if she refused... he wasn't sure what he would do. He didn't want to think about it.

Her hands were in his now, and he was still on his knees, and she was looking at him, her beautiful brown eyes glassy with tears. The two other men were watching, probably shocked into silence, but he didn't care. He hadn't liked Blake from the moment he saw him smirking at Ellis, and if Blake was affianced to Ellis, even if it wasn't true, he wasn't sure he could stop himself from punching him in the face.

"Yes."

He blinked. Had she said it?

"Yes, I will pretend to marry you," she added, with a wry twist of her lips. "But if there is even a hint that Theo has his sights set on you, Owen, we must stop this immediately. I will not have you hurt on my account."

He wondered why she thought being hurt on her account mattered to him. He was not going to let Theo have her, that was for certain, and he would do everything in his power to stop it. Afterward... well, if she wanted to call the whole thing off that was up to her. Even though Owen knew in his heart he would be perfectly happy to marry her for real.

Except that he was an artist, and she was a duchess with the chance of far better prospects when it came to marriage.

He got to his feet. "That's settled then," he said. "What next?"

Blake looked stunned, and the viscount was beaming.

"We announce it," Blake said, regaining his senses. "The duchess will need to pretend the engagement is genuine. For that reason, we can't have her skulking here. She must go to her sister's town house. Don't worry, I will keep a close watch on her. I have already hired several handy fellows to provide continuous protection."

"And then what do we do?" Owen said, feeling as if he was being left out. "We just wait?"

"Exactly. We wait and catch him in the act."

"Blake knows what he's doing," the viscount interjected.

Blake nodded at the older man. "I will do everything in my power to see this comes to a swift conclusion," he said. "Now, I suggest you prepare a notice for the newspapers. I am aware you are still in mourning, Your Grace, but that can't be helped. Better to be gossiped about than dead."

Owen felt his blood turn icy at the thought of Ellis lifeless, her vibrant beauty still and cold. He might lose her from his life after this was over, but at least she would be alive. It certainly put things in perspective, and he determined not to let Blake rankle him.

"I will escort you to your sister's house," Blake was saying in that "I am in charge, don't cross me" voice. "Tomorrow you will receive callers."

Ellis didn't look overly pleased by this. "You are making a mistake. Sophia won't want—"

"I will prepare the ground," Blake spoke over her. Owen clenched his teeth. "I have already sent a message to the Duchess of Oldney to inform her that you will be arriving almost immediately."

Owen opened his mouth, but Ellis beat him to it. "You take a great deal upon yourself, Mr. Blake."

"All part of the service," said the arrogant fellow. "Now, go and pack, if you please, and I will see that you reach the Oldney house safely."

"I will take her," Owen retorted. "She is my fiancée."

"Dear boy," the viscount sighed wearily. "You must let Blake do his job."

Owen was tempted to stand firm, but he knew his uncle was right. He needed to step back for now. There would be enough for him to do in the morning.

Ellis rose to her feet. She looked pale, as well she might. Owen wanted to take her in his arms, but even if that were possible she had a remote look. As if she was only just maintaining her equilibrium.

"I will go and tell Polly to pack again," she said, and left the room.

Blake stayed a moment, looking from Uncle Steven to Owen, before announcing in that smug voice, "I'll make sure everything is in place for the journey," and then he left, too.

Owen and his uncle were alone.

The viscount was giving him a doubtful look. "Are you sure, Owen? I've never known you to be this impetuous before."

"Very sure," he said.

Uncle Steven grimaced. "You do know Blake never had any intention of being the duchess's fiancé? He already knew you would declare yourself."

"But he looked so surprised!"

"He's a very good actor."

Owen wasn't thrilled by the fact that Blake could read him so well.

"This could get very dangerous," the viscount went on. "I wouldn't like to think of you getting hurt. You know I am very fond of you, Owen."

Owen felt his anger seep out of him, and he tried to reassure his uncle. "I won't get hurt. Or at least I'll do my very best not to let that happen. The main thing is that Ellis stays safe. That's all that really matters."

Viscount Hawthorne nodded, looking unusually grave. "Very well then. I can see you're determined to go ahead with it. You always were a stubborn little boy. I will start work on the engagement notices if you want to speak to the duchess before she goes." He gave Owen a knowing glance before moving to pour himself a brandy.

Upstairs, Owen found Ellis in her room, looking tired and flustered. Polly had already repacked the case she had brought with her from the Lodge. She had brought the more respectable gowns Owen had had made for his sitters, but it occurred to him that they were hardly the sort of thing a duchess would wear to go about socially. She must be used to far better.

He looked down at his rather shabby breeches and dull boots. He was not one to care much about how he looked. There was no one to see him at the Lodge. But now he wondered if he should have something more fashionable made up. He didn't want to be a laughingstock or to make Ellis one.

This was turning out to be far more complicated than he had thought when he made his spontaneous proposal.

"Owen?" Ellis had seen him standing there and was frowning at him. "Yes, take that down," she said to Polly, as the maid slipped past them to the door.

"I don't like the thought of you putting yourself in danger," he said. "I wish we'd never left the Lodge. I should have forbidden it."

Ellis's usually warm eyes turned cool. "You have no right to forbid me anything, Owen."

She sounded like a duchess, and he was overstepping.

She went on before he could apologize. "Mr. Blake seems to know what he's doing. We must put our trust in him and hope that this is over soon."

Blake, the know-it-all, Owen thought to himself. "He had better live up to his reputation," he said aloud.

Ellis wasn't listening. "I'm not looking forward to staying with Sophia," she said dolefully. "We never did get on."

There wasn't much he could say to that, apart from "Stay here," and he knew she couldn't do that. Blake's scheme was in play, and they had to see it through.

"I'll be there first thing in the morning," he said reassuringly.

He could hear Blake downstairs, speaking with his uncle, no doubt waiting for Ellis to appear. Owen would have liked to kiss her and try to regain the closeness they had once had, but he would have to cross the room and wrap his arms around her. And she was watching him with a look that was anything but inviting.

Polly cleared her throat from outside the bedchamber.

"I'm sorry you have to pretend to be engaged to me," Ellis said quickly. "It isn't what I would have wanted for you, Owen."

She seemed very composed for a woman who was in such great peril. But then she had been in danger at the Lodge, too, and she had kept it from him. Owen wondered if he really knew her at all.

There must be something he could say . . .

But there was his uncle, calling up for Ellis to come quickly.

She gave him a brief, brave smile, and then she was gone.