She looked over at him, staring into his dark eyes for just a moment before her gaze slid down to a patch of grass beside him. He seemed sincere; he probably was. She didn’t know him well—certainly not well enough to marry, although it seemed that point was now moot—but he didn’t seem the sort to make false apologies. Still, she wasn’t quite ready to fall all over him with gratitude, so when she answered, she did so in a sparing fashion. “I have brothers,” she said. “I am used to it.”
“Perhaps, but I am not. I assure you I do not make a habit of overimbibing.”
She nodded, accepting his apology.
“I have been thinking,” he said.
“As have I.”
He cleared his throat, then tugged at his cravat, as if it had suddenly grown too tight. “We will, of course, have to marry.”
It was nothing more than she knew, but there was something awful in the way he said it. Maybe it was the lack of emotion in his voice, as if she were a problem he had to solve. Or maybe it was the way he said it so matter-of-factly, as if she had no choice (which, in truth, she did not, but she didn’t care to be reminded of that).
Whatever it was, it made her feel strange, and itchy, as if she needed to jump out of her skin.
She had spent her adult life making her own choices, had considered herself the luckiest of females because her family had allowed her to do so. Maybe that was why it now felt so unbearable to be forced onto a path before she was ready.
Or maybe it was unbearable because she was the one who had set this entire farce into motion. She was furious with herself, and it was making her snippy with everyone.
“I’ll do my best to make you happy,” he said gruffly. “And the children need a mother.”
She smiled weakly. She’d wanted her marriage to be about more than just children.
“I’m sure you’ll be a great help,” he said.
“A great help,” she echoed, hating the way it sounded.
“Wouldn’t you agree?”
She nodded, mostly because she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might scream.
“Good,” he said. “Then it’s all settled.”
It’s all settled. For the rest of her life, that would be her grand proposal of marriage. It’s all settled. And the worst part of it was—she had no right to complain. She was the one who’d run off without giving Phillip enough time to arrange for a chaperone. She was the one who’d been so eager to make her own destiny. She was the one who’d acted without thinking, and now all she had to show for it was—
It’s all settled.
She swallowed. “Wonderful.”
He looked at her, blinking in confusion. “Aren’t you happy?”
“Of course,” she said hollowly.
“You don’t sound happy.”
“I’m happy,” she snapped.
Phillip muttered something under his breath.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You said something.”
He gave her an impatient look. “If I’d meant for you to hear it, I would have said it out loud.”
She sucked in her breath. “Then you shouldn’t have said it at all.”
“Some things,” Phillip muttered, “are impossible to keep inside.”
“What did you say?” she demanded.
Phillip raked his hand through his hair. “Eloise—”
“Did you insult me?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Since it appears we are to be wed,” she bit off, “yes.”
“I don’t recall my exact words,” Phillip shot back, “but I believe I may have uttered the words women and lack of sense in the same breath.”
He shouldn’t have said it. He knew he shouldn’t have said it; it would have been rude under any circumstances, and it was especially wrong right now. But she had pushed and pushed and pushed and wouldn’t back down. It was like she’d sliced a needle under his skin, and then decided to jab just for the fun of it.
And besides, why was she in such a terrible mood, anyway? All he’d done was state the facts. They would have to marry, and frankly, she should have been glad that if she’d been compromised, at least it had been with a man who was willing to do the right thing and wed her.
He didn’t expect gratitude. Hell, this was as much his fault as it was hers; he was the one who’d issued the initial invitation, after all. But was it too much to expect a smile and a pleasant mood?
“I’m glad we had this conversation,” Eloise said quite suddenly. “This has been good.”
He looked up, instantly suspicious. “I beg your pardon.”
“Very beneficial,” she said. “One should always understand one’s spouse before one marries, and—”
He groaned. This was not going to end well.
“And,” she added sharply, glaring at his groan, “it is certainly provident that I now know how you feel about my gender.”
He was the sort who usually walked away from conflict, but really, this was too much. “If I recall correctly,” he shot back, “I never did tell you exactly what I thought of women.”
“I inferred it,” she retorted. “The phrase ‘lack of sense’ pointed me in the correct direction.”
“Did it?” he drawled. “Well, I’m thinking differently now.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided I don’t have difficulties with women in general, after all. It’s you I find insufferable.”
She drew back, clearly affronted.
“Has no one called you insufferable before?” He found that difficult to believe.
“No one who wasn’t related to me,” she grumbled.
“You must live in a very polite society.” He squirmed in his seat again; really, did no one make chairs for large men anymore? “Either that,” he muttered, “or you’ve simply terrified everyone into bending to your every whim.”
She flushed, and he couldn’t tell if it was because she was embarrassed by his spot-on assessment of her personality or just because she was angry beyond words.
Probably both.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
He turned to her in surprise. “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t have heard correctly.
“I said I’m sorry,” she repeated, making it clear that she was not going to say the words a third time, so he’d better be listening well.
“Oh,” he said, too stunned to say much of anything else. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her tone was less than gracious, but she seemed to be trying hard, nonetheless.
For a moment he said nothing. Then he had to ask. “What for?”
She looked up, obviously irritated that that hadn’t been the end of it. “Did you have to ask?” she grumbled.
“Well, yes.”
“I am sorry,” she ground out, “because I am in a horrid mood and have been behaving badly. And if you ask how I have been behaving badly, I swear I will get up and walk away and you will never see me again, because I assure you, this apology is difficult enough without my having to explain it further.”
Phillip decided he couldn’t possibly hope for more. “Thank you,” he said softly. He held his tongue for a minute, quite possibly the longest minute of his life, then he decided he might as well just go ahead and say it.
“If it makes you feel any better,” he told her, “I had decided we would suit before your brothers arrived. I was already planning to ask you to be my wife. Properly, with a ring and whatever else it is I’m supposed to do. I don’t know. It’s been a long while since I’ve proposed marriage to anyone, and last time wasn’t under normal circumstances in any case.”
She looked up at him, surprise in her eyes . . . and perhaps a little bit of gratitude as well.
“I’m sorry that your brothers came along and made it all happen faster than you are ready for,” he added, “but I’m not sorry that it’s happening.”
“You’re not?” she whispered. “Really?”
“I’ll give you as long as you need,” he said, “within reason, of course. But I cannot—” He glanced up the hill; Anthony and Colin were ambling down toward them, followed by a footman carrying a tray of food. “I cannot speak for your brothers. I daresay they won’t care to wait as long you might prefer. And quite frankly, if you were my sister, I’d have marched you to a church last night.”
She looked up the hill at her brothers; they were still at least a half a minute away. She opened her mouth, then closed it in obvious thought. Finally, after several seconds, during which he could practically see the wheels of her mind churning and turning, she blurted out, “Why did you decide we would suit?”
“I beg your pardon?” It was a stalling tactic, of course. He hadn’t expected such a direct question.
Although heaven knew why not. This was Eloise, after all.
“Why did you decide we would suit?” she repeated, her voice pointed and undeniable.
But of course that would be how she would ask it. There was nothing subtle or deniable about Eloise Bridgerton. She would never skirt around an issue when she could just walk right in and stick her nose directly into the heart of the matter.
“I . . . ah . . .” He coughed, cleared his throat.
“You don’t know,” she stated, sounding disappointed.
“Of course I know,” he protested. No man liked to be told he didn’t know his own mind.
“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting there choking on air.”
“Good God, woman, do you have a charitable bone in your body? A man needs time to formulate an answer.”
“Ah,” came Colin Bridgerton’s ever-genial voice. “Here’s the happy couple.”