EPISODE NINETY SEVEN A DECENT PROPOSAL

EPISODE NINETY SEVEN

A DECENT PROPOSAL

M iles rose the next morning with a sense of inevitability. He was a gentleman who came from a long line of honorable men. Having seen Miss Wharton s unclothed rear, he was obligated to propose marriage. Caught in the parson s mousetrap.

Daisy would soon become Lady Devin.

His future wife was flighty, impulsive, silly

And intelligent, witty, and self-possessed. She hadn t panicked in a situation when many young women would have collapsed in a faint-or pretended to do so.

Not that it mattered.

More crucially, she was his . The moment she leaned teasingly back against him, and then giggled Or perhaps it was the moment when her eyes grew larger as her bottom pressed against the ballroom wall.

She was his.

Staring unthinkingly at the mirror, he twisted his cravat in the complicated folds of formal dress. Lady Wharton would expect him to be dressed as one would be for the queen s drawing room.

Maybe Daisy had been his from the moment he strode across Lord Rothingale s ballroom and saw hair spilling like moonlight from beneath a masquerade hat.

Congratulate me, Stubbins, he said to his valet. I m planning to ask for a young lady s hand in marriage.

She s a lucky woman, Stubbins said cheerfully. His valet had been his father s manservant and had known Miles since he was a lad.

I hope she agrees with you.

Daisy had looked at him with desire. She had trembled against him, and not just because of shock. She had nestled against him.

He was hers.

An hour later, he was disabused of that notion.

Absolutely not, Lady Wharton said. She held up her hand, palm toward him. And do not imagine that an appeal to my husband will make any difference, Lord Devin. I hold the purse strings, and Lord Wharton gave up responsibility for our daughter long ago.

Miles felt a violent wish to disobey the lady s command. If need be, he could elope with Daisy, though the resulting scandal would be irritating.

You don t think that your daughter should be consulted as regards her marriage? he inquired, keeping his tone mild.

She snorted. My daughter is far too young and innocent to be able to understand what it means to marry a man of your reputation.

My reputation? His voice chilled.

All those women, she said grimly. Don t try to tell me you re not a rakehell, because I ve heard stories from numerous sources.

I have done nothing that other men of my rank have not, he said, startled into defending himself. I don t even have a mistress.

But you have had, she snapped. Aye, and you ve frequented the opera enough. I ve heard all about your penchant for Russian opera dancers and their ilk. You have extremely low standards.

Do you mean to be so insulting? Miles asked. If she were a man, he d challenge her. But she wasn t. She was an enraged mother lion, determined to protect her cub.

You continue to be friends with Rothingale! Lady Wharton screeched. The rogue very nearly eloped with your own sister, Clementine. Tis a miracle that she s now betrothed. Her lip curled. If men of Clementine s own family are not interested in defending her virtue, the least they could do would be to give the reprobate the cut direct. But you? You continue to consort with him!

She wasn t saying anything that Miles hadn t considered. What if I mend my reputation? I take your point about Rothingale.

Don t do it for Daisy s sake, she said acidly. I will never marry my daughter to a man as old as you are.

That was a facer. I m not yet thirty, and my understanding is that Daisy is in her twenties as well.

Daisy will marry a man who s not yet twenty-five. The lady s cheeks were marked with red slashes. Regardless, you should feel an avuncular sentiment for her, if anything! After all, you are partially responsible for the lack of an uncle in her life.

Fury was creeping up Miles s spine. He was not old. Neither was he dissolute.

Don t you dare think of trying to elope with Daisy, the way that wastrel tried to do with your sister, Lady Wharton shrilled, getting to her feet. Disgusting old men who seduce young ladies will never be sanctioned by me!

Miles rose to his feet. He had never met Lady Wharton s husband, but he understood the gentleman to be some twenty years older than his wife. He was beginning to think that their marriage began with a rash elopement.

I ll have your vow on that front! she demanded.

Right.

Well, he hadn t been entirely convinced that he wished to marry Daisy anyway.

I will not elope with your daughter, he stated. If you ll excuse me, Lady Wharton, I ll be on my way.

You re taking this suspiciously well, she spat.

I witnessed the catastrophe of Miss Wharton s gown. In the process of saving her reputation, I glimpsed her in a state of dishabille. My honor and hers demanded that I offer my hand.

Lady Wharton s countenance cleared. You must forgive me, Lord Devin.

He blinked at her toothy smile. Pardon me?

My vehement rejection of your proposal was inappropriate. I ve noticed that men do have a tendency to fall in love with Daisy, due to her vivacious mannerisms-I am determined to guide her into more subdued behavior this Season, mind you-but now I understand that is not the case here.

Miles hated the idea of a subdued Daisy as much as he hated that blasted dress that looked like a pillar of salt, but it was not his business.

Lady Wharton came closer and patted his arm. Your reputation may be less than sterling, but you are a gentleman, so of course you were compelled to propose after that unfortunate mishap. I expect you are deeply relieved to receive my response. I imagine that you feel my daughter is far too impulsive and silly for you. I would have said as much myself.

He cleared his throat. I consider Miss Wharton entirely suitable. He stepped back and bowed. I do thank you for reminding me that boyhood friendship is no reason to acknowledge Lord Rothingale. I shall eschew his company from now on.

Excellent! her ladyship said, starting toward the drawing room door in her hurry to see the back of him.

Good day, Miles said at the door.

What a shock that was, Lady Wharton chattered. I believe I must lie down. We shall see you tonight at dinner- she narrowed her eyes -where you will make it quite clear to Daisy that you have no interest in her beyond friendly concern stemming from her disturbing experience.

Miles was beginning to feel like a marionette, but he bowed yet again. As you wish.

* * *

That evening Daisy maddened her mother by refusing to wear one of her new gowns, the ones that swathed her in fabric.

Instead she chose a slightly-out-of-date dress made of amber-colored silk with turquoise spangled trim. The fabric floated around her hips and flirted with her ankles. Her curves were enhanced by short stays, but not compressed by them, and the trimming turned her eyes cornflower blue.

I suppose it s acceptable for dinner, Lady Wharton finally said, giving up. I doubt that any marriageable young men are invited.

Lord Devin will be there, Daisy said, turning around before the mirror and tugging on the back of her gown, just in case. It was firmly sewn in place.

Did she look delectable? Hopefully. Her hair was caught up with amber silk ribbons, with one thick coil placed just so over her shoulder.

Lord Devin is too old for you, Lady Wharton stated. Your father s age has always been a barrier between us.

Yes, but Father is twenty years older than you are, Daisy observed.

You may marry a man three years older than you at the most .

Daisy kept her mouth shut; her mother would surely change her mind if Lord Devin-one of the richest and most eligible bachelors in London-began paying marked attention to her daughter.

Every time she thought about Miles s eyes, dazzling possibilities sprang alive in her mind. Ones where she married the man who had told her not to move lest he d shock polite society, and who had sucked in a desperate breath when she disobeyed and leaned back against him.

Except

As it turned out, Miles didn t even look at her.

He paid her no attention at all.

When she and her mother walked into the drawing room, Daisy s eyes went directly to where he was standing with his sister Clementine.

Their hostess, Lady Castlereigh, hurried toward the door, hands outstretched in greeting, but Miles didn t stir. His eyes cut in their direction, and then he turned directly back to his conversation. In the candlelight, his face was chiseled as if shaped from stone, except no marble angel had a brow so disdainful.

Daisy swallowed hard. He was wearing an exquisite coat of dove-gray silk adorned with black embroidery at the hem and cuffs. He looked far too elegant for someone like her, whose hair already felt as if it might topple to one side.

Perhaps Miles didn t want to make a show of his attention? After all, gossips had seen them together at the ball, even if no one had glimpsed her ripped garment.

But a leaden feeling in her stomach suggested that he didn t wish to pay her attention at all. He d rethought the prospect of marrying her-if he d even considered it. He was tall and dignified; she was short and plump, with fly-away hair and a snub nose. Her own mother thought she was a giddy fool.

When Daisy arrived at that end of the room, her heart beating in her ears, Miles bowed with punctilious briskness. Lady Wharton, it is a pleasure to see you again so soon. And your daughter, of course.

Her mother surged forward and patted him on the arm. You were quite the gentleman last evening, Lord Devin. Thank you for rescuing Daisy from an embarrassing situation.

Oh dear, Clementine said, grimacing. What happened?

My gown ripped, Daisy said.

My brother is quite experienced with such rescues, Clementine said sympathetically. My family still tells tales of my older sister s debut ball, when the Prince Regent trod on her hem and tore the ruffle clean off! Miles saved the day by sweeping her away before anyone noticed.

Precisely as he did for Daisy! Lady Wharton cried. How I wish that my daughter had an older brother like him. Thankfully, Lord Devin fulfilled the role last night. I expect it comes naturally to him.

Older brother?

I am partially responsible for the lack of an uncle in Miss Wharton s life, Miles said with sardonic emphasis. I assure you, Lady Wharton, that I feel avuncular concern for your daughter.

Daisy s heart plummeted to her toes.

Avuncular! Clementine tapped Miles on the shoulder with her fan. You are becoming more like a stuffy uncle every day. She turned to Daisy and Lady Wharton. My brother has changed so much since he took on that awful position in the House of Lords. I promise that he used to be cheerful.

Avuncular .

The word went around in Daisy s head without making much sense, but then she was never very good at vocabulary questions.

He hadn t felt avuncular yesterday, when his cock was throbbing against her bottom.

Miles bowed. Please excuse me. Lady Regina has arrived, and I should greet her.

The moment he walked away, Clementine said, If my brother marries Regina, I shall be so disappointed.

It would be an appropriate match, Lady Wharton said. She must be nearing twenty-five.

Age is not everything, Daisy said.

If Miles had wanted her, he d obviously changed his mind. Perhaps he found her too annoying. A feeling of dread sank in as she remembered babbling about that possibility.

He hadn t denied it.

I hoped to see your younger sisters, Daisy s mother said to Clementine. While they are not formally out, I thought they might attend a family gathering of this nature.

It s the most unfortunate thing! Augusta came down with an influenza. She s been frightfully ill for weeks. My brother sent them to live in Bath with an elderly aunt for a few months, until Augusta regains her health.

Will Catrina and Augusta debut together next year? Lady Wharton asked.

I expect so. Clementine brightened. If you ll excuse me, I would like to introduce Daisy to my fianc s cousin. She waved toward a lean, bespectacled fellow. He s a professor at Oxford and very intelligent!

Excellent, Lady Wharton said. Fancy that. A professor, at such a young age!