Chapter 18

eighteen

E NGAGEMENT. SPECIAL LICENSE. Eloping. Marriage.

All those words came out of Royston's mouth, and Angeline couldn't believe she listened without dismissing his idea. Maybe it was the overwhelming pleasure she'd just experienced.

"On a practical level, if we get married," Royston said in a serious tone that didn't leave room for jokes. "Your mother will stop making deals with dubious gentlemen on your behalf, and I'll finally have some peace of mind. Lady Redvers will stop introducing her daughter to me, and married gentlemen are held in higher esteem than bachelors. Marriage could help me get a seat in the House of Lords. And your mother won't need to blackmail anyone. I'll provide for her as well. She won't lack anything."

"I understand the practical aspect of a marriage between us, but what about us? A marriage is forever. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with me?" She didn't know what she wished he'd say.

He stared straight into her eyes. "Yes, I do. We know each other well, especially after tonight." A wicked smile flashed over his sculpted lips, and a tingle started pulsing between her legs. "I respect and admire you. Your fierce spirit and sharp mind are qualities I'll always appreciate. You give me strength and calm. You make me smile even when I'm sad. Today, many marriages are based on less than that. If you do me the honour of becoming my wife, I'll do everything I can to make you happy. If you can forgive me for the fright I gave you tonight."

"Well, I shot you. I think we're even." Right now, she wasn't thinking straight though. She ought to take time to ponder a reply. "I feel better when I'm with you as well."

He showed another lopsided smile that transformed his handsome face into a mischievous one. "I know different ways to make you feel good."

Her cheeks warmed. All her body did. "There's something else. I want children." She had to make things clear. "Do you?"

He squeezed her hands. "Absolutely. I'm going to enjoy making them."

She laughed again. "I think—" The rest of her sentence was cut off by the sound of a carriage stopping at her front door. "Mama," she whispered. "She's early."

Before he could say anything, she grabbed his arm and led him upstairs to her bedroom. "Quick."

"Why am I hiding?" he said once she'd locked them in.

"Do you really want my mother to know you went through her things again? We don't have to tell her anything."

"I don't think lying to her will make things better." He looked out of the window. "I can't leave from this window. It's too high."

"I didn't think about letting you out of the back door." She looked around. "Just hide somewhere until she goes to bed."

"Angeline?" Mama's voice sounded closer.

"Under the bed. Quick."

Muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezed himself under the bed. But his bulk didn't fit.

Mama knocked on the door. "Darling?"

"I don't fit," he whispered.

"The wardrobe." She waited for him to be inside her wardrobe among his scoffs and puffs before opening the door. "Mama."

"I was worried. The lights are on. Are you all right?" Mama put a hand on Angeline's forehead. "Are you sick?"

"No. I'm fine."

Mama furrowed her brow. "You're all flushed and hot."

Yes, that was how Angeline felt. "You're home early."

"Oh, what an odd evening." Mama walked inside the room and sat on the bed, pulling off her gloves. "Lord Havisham came, unfortunately. I wouldn't have gone if I'd known he would be present. He was rather upset by your absence. He asked me a few times if I wanted to send a cab to fetch you. I told him you didn't feel well and needed to rest, but he insisted that you should have come. After a while, the host called the evening off, claiming he was suddenly indisposed, and the earl said I should be with you since you were ill. Such an unusual behaviour. I didn't even try the dessert."

The door of the wardrobe inched open. Dash it. Likely, Royston's bulk was too large for her wardrobe as well. She shut the door with nonchalance.

"Maybe Lord Havisham was only worried about me."

Although his behaviour was further proof that he'd planned the whole evening. He'd known the police would have come.

"Since when does he care? He's never shown any affection towards you aside from the bizarre piano affair. No, something bothered him, and he wanted me to go home, which made two of us. He also told me he had something urgent to tell me, but he then changed his mind and didn't say anything else."

"Does Lord Havisham know about the safe in your parlour?" she asked.

Mama looked taken aback. "What an odd question. But as a matter of fact, yes." She laughed. "He paid for the safe. Ridiculously expensive. It was one of his gifts for me. Why?"

"Well—"

A soft groan came from the wardrobe, and the door swung outwards again. She slammed it shut, but grimaced when another noise came. She must have hurt his injured arm.

"Angeline." Mama shot up, her rouged lips parting. "Is there a man hiding in your wardrobe?"

"No, no, what an idea." She leant against the door to keep it shut.

Mama's smile held too much excitement. "Well done, darling. Who is it? Mr. North? He wasn't at the dinner tonight."

"No. Mama, there isn't anyone in the wardrobe, and if there were someone, it wouldn't be Mr. North."

"You don't fool me." Mama craned her neck to look past her. "I really want to know."

"Please."

"Come on." Mama took Angeline's hand and tugged.

At the same time, the door was pushed open, revealing a crumpled and not-at-all pleased Royston.

He closed his eyes for a moment and muttered something she didn't understand.

"You!" Mama shifted her gaze from Royston to Angeline. "What is Baron Wharton doing here?"

Royston uncoiled his massive body out of the wardrobe. Now that he was out, it seemed incredible he'd fit in it to start with. Thank goodness his jacket covered the bandage, although the fabric was ripped, or Mama would ask more questions.

"I'm not here against your daughter's will, madam," he said with a strained note.

Mama's eyes widened as she turned towards Angeline. "This is why you didn't come to tonight's dinner. You had an assignation with the baron after everything he did to you. To me."

Oh, bother. Angeline was going to get a headache. "It's not like that."

"Why is your jacket ripped?" Mama pointed a finger at the ripped sleeve.

"A little incident." Royston straightened his jacket.

"You should probably go," Angeline said.

He nodded. "Ladies, I bid you goodnight. Madam, I wish to tell you that nothing happened here tonight."

Angeline shook her head. That was the wrong thing to say.

"I'm glad I interrupted you." Mama didn't look as shocked as a mother should be.

"No, we weren't doing anything," Royston said.

"What do you mean by that? Then why are you here?" Mama said at the same time as Angeline said, "Can we let him go, please?"

"But I don't understand. Why would you stay home and invite him without telling me if you didn't have any debauchery in mind? Why him? He made you cry."

"Did I?" Royston asked, furrowing his brow.

"Please." Angeline held up her hands. "We should discuss this tomorrow. Or never."

"No." Mama crossed her arms over her chest. "I demand to know what's happening."

"I want to marry your daughter. That's what's happening." Royston's tone sounded a bit too sharp.

Silence dropped. Even Angeline didn't know what to say.

"Good Lord." Mama paled and tottered on her feet. Her breath came out in uneven pants.

"Sit down." Angeline helped her to the bed.

Her bottom lip quivered. "How can you do this to me? Me, your mother, the woman who spent thirteen hours labouring to give birth to you."

Royston straightened. "What? A tryst is better than marriage?"

"Yes!" Mama said.

"That doesn't make any sense," he said.

"It's complicated." Angeline waved dismissively.

"When did everything start to go wrong?" Mama gripped the bedpost. "I raised you with solid principles, and instead, this happened."

"You're exaggerating." Angeline poured a glass of water from the pitcher and handed it to her mother. "There's no need for this dramatic scene."

"No need?" Mama's face reddened. "You don't have to marry this man and be his slave. If you want to have a tumble with him, then do it, but you don't have to shackle yourself to him and do his bidding for the rest of your life."

Royston came forwards. "Madam, I assure you I have no intention of turning Angeline into a slave."

Mama scoffed. "Don't listen to him. They all say the same things, and then everything changes once they marry you, and before you know it, you're his maid, housekeeper, cook, sex slave, and mother all rolled up together. That's the future waiting for you if you marry him. He'll expect you to do everything he asks, inside and outside of the bed. He'll expect you to do the housework, cooking, and everything else."

"That's absurd." Even Royston reddened. "I have enough money to hire a cook, a maid, and a housekeeper."

Mama jabbed a finger at him. "You're missing the point. It doesn't matter how much money you have. You'll still treat her like a slave. She'll never be enough for you. You'll resent her wish to be independent until you crush the very flame of life within her, and she'll no longer exist. You'll murder her."

"Goodness, this can't be possible," Angeline said.

"You're very much mistaken, madam," Royston said. "And I'm sorry for the pain someone you cared about caused you."

Mama swallowed the water with one gulp, staring at Angeline as if Royston hadn't talked. "What do you know about marriage and men? Nothing."

"Madam." Royston's tone sounded more strained by the minute. "I'm sorry for what happened to you, but I'm not one of those men who considers his wife a slave or a servant. I don't know what I have to do to prove it."

Mama stood up with surprising energy. "There's nothing you can do that will change my mind. This marriage will never happen. Especially after you came here and searched my study."

"I understand your rage." Royston arched his brow. "But you blackmail people, madam."

"Out of my house, Lord Wharton."

"Madam—"

"Now!" She stretched out an arm towards the door.

"This conversation doesn't end here. I want to marry Angeline and?—"

"Out," Mama ordered.

Angeline gave him a nod. "Please."

He bowed. "Good night, ladies." He strode out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

"Mama." Angeline clenched her fists. The more Mama ranted against Royston, the more she wanted to marry him. "You shouldn't have treated him so cruelly. He's an honourable gentleman."

"There's no such thing as an honourable gentleman. It's a contradiction. They're all the same, ready to use you. He used you."

"Royston and I talked about that. He had some convincing arguments." Perhaps that wasn't the right time to mention Lord Havisham's lies about Mama abusing fallen women. "The fact you had a terrible, awful experience doesn't mean all men are the same."

"Oh, really?" She folded her arms over her chest. "Let's put your white knight to the test."

"How?"

"Have a tumble with him and see what happens next. I bet my diamond bracelet he'll walk away from his marriage proposal and will call you a harlot faster than I can say, ‘I told you so'."

"He would never do that."

"If you're so sure, then do it." She touched a rather large ring with a big ruby on its top. "Go on. Seduce him."

Angeline copied her mother's stance and crossed her arms. "I will not seduce him only to prove to you he's honourable."

"Fine. We can give him my special poly potion. I've laced it with almond wine. My men say it's delicious. He'll believe he tupped you?—"

"Your language!"

"—and after that, after he thinks he had you in his bed, he'll forget about you. You won't hear from him ever again."

"It's wrong. I forbid you to drug him."

"I can use my Lucrezia Borgia's ring, if you prefer." She showed her the large ring.

Angeline shook her head. "I don't even want to know what that thing is."

Mama tilted her head. "Scared that your white knight will behave like a scoundrel?"

"Mama." Angeline took Mama's shoulders. "Stop it. I know you were hurt. I know you had one horrible experience after another with men, but Royston is different. Leave him alone."

"The fact he pulled you out of that burning theatre doesn't mean you owe him anything."

"I certainly owe him my respect, and your plan is disrespectful. So no almond wine. And that's final."