Chapter 21

The ground shifted beneath Portia's feet. Nothing that Alaric said made sense. Not in any world she lived in. Her hands fisted in her creased skirts. "But you don't want to marry me."

His sigh was audible. She wished to heaven that they weren't having this conversation in the middle of a lightless grove of trees. She'd dearly love to see his face and his stance, to get some idea of his feelings. She had a dreadful suspicion that he was tensed up like a hunted animal. That beautiful baritone sounded cold and grim, despite him saying he wished to marry her.

"I decided I wanted to marry you when you pulled out your pistol and threatened to shoot that ruffian."

While she should be happy to hear this, it didn't fit with what she knew to be true. "But…but you didn't like me then."

"It seems I did."

"You've never mentioned marriage."

"The moment you agreed to come away with me, marriage was inevitable. Credit me with a little honor. You're a gentlewoman. You were a virgin. If I debauched you, I owed you a wedding ring."

She hadn't been as daring and free as she'd thought. That was disappointing, although she shouldn't be surprised. From the start, she'd recognized Alaric's ironclad ethics. Usually she admired them, but right now, she couldn't help feeling that he'd been less than candid. He might be a gentleman, but it was clear that he'd manipulated her.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"Because you told me in no uncertain terms that you didn't want a husband."

"So you'd bed me until we got caught and had to marry?" Bitterness edged her tone. "A third Frain sister rushed to the altar in a hail of scandal?"

"No. On my soul, no. It would be easy enough to spark a scandal, if I was unprincipled enough to engineer one. You know how I've tried to hide our affair."

To be fair, she did. "Why?"

"I didn't want to force your hand."

That was something, she supposed, still feeling at a disadvantage. "You were giving me time to decide to marry you?"

His answer held a hint of apology. "I hoped you might warm to the idea."

"Thanks to your fatal charm?" She didn't soften the irony in her question.

"You like me. Or at least you did." He stopped, as if waiting for her to agree, but she remained silent. He went on in a more subdued tone. "And we're tremendous in bed together. That has to count for something."

Tremendous in bed. And against trees and walls and doors. And on tables and chairs and carpets. "It means I want you," she said flatly.

"And I want you."

That was no comfort. Desire didn't solve the problems between them. "I'd make a dreadful duchess."

"You're perfect for me."

He sounded so sure, she almost believed him. "What about my animals? I'd turn your life upside down. You'd hate that."

Alaric sighed again. "Portia, you can empty the Royal Menagerie and move the exhibits into my back garden, if that's what it takes to accept my proposal. Dogs and cats and lions and tigers and…hell, dragons are welcome, as long as you say yes."

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to believe him. But she couldn't. Not yet, anyway. "That's all very well to say, but you require a respectable, biddable woman who never sets a foot wrong. My feet are wrong all the time. So is the rest of me."

She thought he might laugh at that, but clearly he was at such an extremity that his sense of humor abandoned him. "You're right for me. The question is whether you think I'm right for you."

"None of this is like you, Alaric." He wouldn't see her bewildered gesture. "You're the most gentlemanly gentleman in the ton. If you wanted to marry me, why not court me in the accepted manner or ask Papa for my hand? He'd love me to marry a duke, especially without a scandal forcing the groom's hand."

"Portia, darling…"

The anguished "darling" went some way to smoothing her ruffled feathers. "Yes?"

"I'd already conducted two conventional courtships. Both came to disaster. This time, I'd found a woman I really wanted. A public wooing always led to the wrong outcome. A different strategy was called for."

"At least I couldn't run off with Evesham, now that he's married to Juliet," she said drily.

This time, a faint huff of laughter rewarded her. "That's something, I suppose."

"I may not have a baby, you know. Wouldn't you rather wait and find out?"

"No. I want you with me." His voice shook with the power of his emotions. "I want to claim you as my wife in the full light of day. I want you by my side without having to lie and deceive and pretend that I don't think you're the most marvelous creature in the world."

Her eyes widened in shock. "That's…that's strong stuff."

"My feelings are strong. I know we haven't been together for long. I'm willing to delay, if that's what you want. But if it was up to me, I'd marry you this very moment. It's not enough to see you for a few minutes in the park and act like our meeting isn't the center of my entire day. It's not enough to dance with you once at a ball now and again. It's not enough to have you in my bed for a few days, then do without you until the next time you can sneak away." He sucked in a broken breath. When he resumed, desperation turned his voice hoarse. "And everything I saw of you tonight tells me it's not enough for you either."

He was right. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But would it be enough for her to marry him, when so far he hadn't come near to mentioning love? Was half a cake better than no cake at all?

Portia had a vile inkling that if she said no to his proposal, she wouldn't even have half a cake. As a result, she'd starve to death.

She twined her shaking hands together at her waist and told herself that she couldn't confess her love. At least until she knew whether she carried Alaric's child. If they had to marry, it was better that he never knew of her aching, hopeless devotion. She'd loathe living with a man who tiptoed around her feelings.

"Is it enough, Portia?" he asked when she didn't reply.

"No, it's not." Misery laced her voice. "But I don't want to destroy your life."

"The only way you could destroy my life is to leave me."

He was saying – almost – all the right things. He wanted her in his life. He wanted her. "If we marry, everyone will say that you only took me on because you couldn't have Juliet. The ton will forever call me your second-best bride."

"I don't give a flying fuck what the ton says. My happiness is more important than a bit of malicious gossip." His violent response told her that he veered close to the edge. Alaric didn't in general use coarse language. "You don't think I'm pining for Juliet, do you?"

"No, I don't," she said, and for the first time, she really believed him. This distraught, ardent man had no interest in her older sister. Alaric and Juliet might be a perfect match in so many ways, while Portia was the last person that he should marry. But she now accepted that Alaric pursued one woman and that woman was Portia Frain.

"I'm glad," he said with a relieved sigh. "I wondered if that would always be an obstacle between us."

The time for protecting herself had passed. Whatever damage her confession did, she couldn't hide the truth any longer. She squared her shoulders. "Alaric, I'm honored by your offer—"

She heard his breath catch. "For the love of God, Portia, don't refuse me. I beg you."

Drawing on all her inner resources, she licked dry lips. "I believe marriage should be a meeting of equals."

"So do I," he said quickly.

She sliced the air with one hand to silence him. He must have sensed the gesture, even if he couldn't see it, because he stopped speaking.

"A marriage where one person is in love and the other isn't will make us both wretched." Her words hurtled into the space between them like a boulder crashing down a mountainside.

The silence this time lasted a long time. Long enough for Portia's heart to shrivel. His lack of response was all the answer that she needed.

"You're right, damn it." His voice was expressionless as it never was. "I'd hoped…"

What? That she'd get over her inconvenient love? That wasn't going to happen. She was a stalwart soul. Once she committed herself, she didn't waver.

It was humiliating to realize that Alaric had guessed her feelings. And it further complicated what was already an odiously complicated situation. Regret grated in her voice. "I won't change, Alaric. I'm sorry."

"There's no chance you could ever love me?" he asked in that same toneless voice.

"There's no chance I…" She broke off, as she realized that he hadn't said what she'd expected. "Wait. What are you saying? You love me?"

"You know I do. That's why you're refusing me." He sounded like all the light had been sucked out of the world. She hated the way he sounded.

Since their frantic, ecstatic union against the beech tree, nothing had made sense. This capped it all. Portia drew a fragmented breath and reviewed what he'd said. If she got this wrong, her whole life would be empty.

"I'm…I'm not refusing you," she said on a breath of sound. A joyous smile curved her lips, doubly wonderful when she'd feared that everything she wanted was out of reach for eternity. "I said I…I don't want to marry you when I'm so in love with you that I could die. Not when you aren't even a little bit in love with me."

He caught her arms in a desperate grip. "But I've been in love with you since that first day."

This radiant happiness would illuminate the rest of her life. "That's only fair, because I've been in love with you since the first day, too."

"My darling girl." He hauled her close as the choked words escaped. "I thought I didn't have a prayer."

This kiss was unlike any they'd shared before, miraculous as those had been. For the first time, love met love without any concealment. By the time Alaric raised his head, she was warm from her toes to her crown and leaning against the tree in a satisfied daze.

"I love you, Portia," he said, as if making a solemn vow.

"And I love you, Alaric. So much."

This kiss was longer and set the seal on their commitment. She twined her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the man she loved.

When they came up for air, Alaric rested his chin on her head. "You'll marry me?"

She muffled a cracked laugh against his heart. It seemed bizarre to cry when she was so happy, but tears stung her eyes and coagulated in a tight ball in her throat. "I'll be the world's worst duchess."

"I don't care. I'll be the world's happiest man."

"And I'll be the world's happiest woman." She laughed. "I am the world's happiest woman. It broke my heart when I was sure you didn't love me while I loved you so madly."

His arms tightened. "Love me madly forever, sweetheart."

"I will. Forever."

More kisses until Portia felt like she flew up to the stars.

The sound of a carriage rattling into the square brought her back to earth with a bump.

"I should let you go." Reluctance weighted Alaric's statement.

"Soon we can be together all the time." An invitation to bliss.

The carriage stopped on the other side of the square. Doors opened and closed and there was a brief conversation before the carriage rolled away, leaving the square empty once more.

"Portia, my exquisite Portia, will you marry me?"

"Yes, with all my heart."

"Will you marry me tomorrow? Well, today really. It's after midnight."

Dizzy with the swift change from despair to jubilation, Portia drew back, wishing she could see Alaric. "I'd love that. Can we manage it?"

"I don't see why not. I'll talk to the rector of St. James's on Piccadilly. He'll be delighted to perform the ceremony."

"Oh, Alaric." She rose on her toes and kissed him quickly. "I can hardly believe this is happening."

He brought her back for a more thorough kiss. "Believe it, my darling."

"Soon I'll be your wife."

"I'm so happy." He paused. "What about your father? Should I ask his permission to marry you?"

Portia frowned into the darkness. "If we involve Papa, this will turn into an extravaganza. Especially as this time, he isn't marrying a daughter off to quash a scandal. I don't want an extravaganza."

"Nor do I." Even without seeing Alaric, she knew that he shuddered. "My wedding plans have come under enough scrutiny."

"If Papa gets involved, we won't be able to marry for weeks. Months even."

"I don't want that either."

"We could present it to him as a fait accompli."

"Would that hurt his feelings?"

Portia smiled, her heart spilling over with gratitude and elation. "You know, that's one of the many reasons I love you."

"Because I can't make a decision?"

She laughed and placed a hand on his cheek. "No, because even when you have every right to be selfish, you care about other people."

"He's about to become my father-in-law."

Portia gave an exaggerated gasp of horror. "I should have mentioned that when I listed all the reasons not to marry me." Even without his monomania for Shakespeare, her father was a handful.

Alaric's embrace firmed. "It's too late to wriggle out of taking me. I've got your promise."

"I'm sure Papa would like to be involved, but he was really terrible to Juliet. I'm in no mood to indulge his vanity if it means putting off our wedding, especially—"

"Especially when you could be carrying my child."

A glow that had nothing to do with passion and everything to do with love expanded inside her. "I'd love that."

"So would I." More kissing. Portia's brains were addled by the time they stopped. Their closeness filled her with contentment. She and Alaric were together and would stay that way.

"Tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, tomorrow."

"Shall I send a note to the stables?"

"I've got a better idea. I'll ask the Shelburns to be our witnesses. Kate already suspects something's going on. It will cheer her no end to discover she's right. If I leave for the church from Leighton House, I can dress there without anyone wondering what I'm up to. I'll send her a note first thing."

Another flurry of kisses. Breathless, Alaric raised his head. "Damn it, I want to see you. I never imagined getting engaged in the dark."

She laughed. "It's romantic." She caught his hands. "Alaric, are we really going to do this extraordinary thing? Everyone will say we're the most mismatched couple in England."

"We'll be too happy to care about gossip."

"How wonderful."

"But you should go inside. We've tempted fate long enough."

"Kiss me first."

It wasn't a speedy farewell, and Portia was trembling by the time she stepped back. "I love you, Alaric." Having held the words inside for so long, she exulted in repeating them over and over.

"I love you, my treasured Portia."

"And tomorrow we're getting married. I can hardly believe it."

"You'll believe it when you're standing in front of the parson saying ‘I do.'"

What a perfect thought. One more quick kiss.

"Let me call Jupiter, then check nobody's around," he said.

She collapsed against the convenient tree, as she struggled to comprehend that such joy existed and that it belonged to her.