A Hasty Betrothal. Jessica Nelson

footman disappeared.

      Miles held out his arm. “A ride, then?”

      Suddenly the thought of fresh air and sunshine seemed smart, indeed. She took his arm, noticing how much taller he stood than she. His arm felt exceedingly strong.

      Which was neither here nor there, she told herself firmly.

      It did not take long to leave.

      Miles helped her into his rig. His fingers lingered on her knuckles, and she sent him a sharp look. Did he realize the small impropriety? Still feeling warm, she withdrew her hand and found her seat. Once they were settled, and Jenna had handed in her bonnet and taken her own seat, they were off.

      “Hyde Park is beautiful this time of year,” Elizabeth said inanely.

      “We’ve never taken a turn by ourselves, have we?” Sunlight lit the chiseled planes of his profile.

      She glanced at her lap, fiddling with the ribbons of her bonnet.

      “You do not need a cap to hide your face, Bitt.”

      “It is for shade, sir.”

      “I see.” His tone suggested he thought otherwise.

      She cared not a whit what his tone said, though her hands were clammy.

      They left the tree-lined road as Miles turned the rig into Hyde Park. Sunlight bloomed immediately upon their faces, warm and inviting in the still-cool spring air.

      She situated the bonnet upon her head, but as she pulled the ribbons forward, Miles touched her hand.

      “Allow me, my lady.” His eyes darkened. Some tempestuous emotion spiraled through them, though Elizabeth had no idea why. She dropped her hands to her lap.

      Miles parked the rig to the side of the pathway. Setting the reins on his lap, he pulled the ribbons of her bonnet gently, tying them neatly beneath her chin, the skin of his knuckles the briefest whisper of a caress against her skin.

      “I had wondered...” He paused, his face only inches from hers, his gaze earnest. “If you might consider a betrothal.”

       Chapter Four

      Elizabeth stiffened. The bonnet hid most of her face but the sudden frown turning her pretty lips downward remained visible. “I shall not be marrying Lord Wrottesley, no matter what occurred last night. I do hope my parents have not sent you to persuade me otherwise.”

      Miles wanted to take her hand, but the knowledge that they were riding in a public place and bound to encounter peers stayed him. He tapped his fingers against his knee instead, debating the best way to phrase his question.

      Perhaps a simple business proposition?

      That might be best, as it most described the purpose of the proposal. He picked up the reins, guiding the horses back onto the path.

      “Nay, Bitt, your parents know nothing of my actions. The thing is...” He gathered his courage, which seemed to have deserted him. “I have come to see if you would consider a betrothal to me.”

      Her mouth rounded. Miles took a curve in Rotten Row, passing an early rider he did not recognize. He felt compelled to fill the silence of Bitt’s shock, to assure her of his honorable intentions. And perhaps to convince himself that such an offer was in both of their best interests. Hard to imagine; nevertheless, he felt honor bound to offer.

      “John came to my house this morning. He is concerned.”

      “Yes, yes, you told me he saw the papers.”

      Miles’s mouth tightened. “He worries for your family’s reputation.”

      “He should have expressed his worries to me.” She pulled out a fan and began waving it vigorously against her face. “I truly feel that the gossip shall pass. After all, the column was quite vague, merely mentioning an heiress. That could be a number of people, including debutantes. It is known that I shall inherit, of course, but the amount has been kept quiet to discourage fortune hunters.”

      “Do you speak of an inheritance or a dowry?”

      “Both, really. My grandmother has settled a dowry upon me, but I am also to receive an inheritance from my grandfather. It was in his will. We were very close. He made me feel loved for myself, and in fact, it was he who introduced me to the wonder of novels.” Her eyes briefly closed as though she remembered a sweetness Miles himself had never known.

      His own experiences with reading encompassed contracts, bills and legal papers. He took a quiet moment to study her. She sat to his right and the birthmark did not extend to the left side of her face. Her high cheekbones hinted at aristocracy, at a regal breeding that did not enrich his own blood.

      “Your grandfather sounds like a wonderful man.”

      “His life was too short.” Elizabeth opened her eyes, training their brightness upon him. “Tell me, Miles—why propose to me? I had believed you to be firmly settled in your widowerhood.”

      He dragged in a breath. “It is true. Marriage is the last thing I want. But you are an old friend, Bitt, and I do not wish to see you ruined. A betrothal seems a smart proposition. The article did mention a factory owner. Not only will the rumors subside and your reputation remain pristine, but you will be able to continue with the life you have known. With me, you might reside in the manner to which you’re accustomed. We are comfortable together, having known each other since childhood. I wished to discuss the idea with you before going to your parents.”

      “While I appreciate the sentiment, you make marriage sound cold and heartless, a calculated business decision rather than a joining of hearts.” She edged away from him.

      The morning sun felt unbearably hot. He tugged at his cravat. “Because that is what it would be, Elizabeth. A proposition.” He cleared his throat. “Do not mistake me. I do not want to ever marry again, but should the rumors increase, I want you to know that I am here to assist you by whatever means necessary. I do have a few requests, of course. Requests that would assure me you could be a suitable partner.”

      “Such as?”

      “If forced to marry, I would want a wife who is not a ninny, one who might keep my home warm but not interfere with my social and political activities, promising a beneficial arrangement. You would have the protection of my name and the comfort of my acceptance.”

      “Forced to marry? And this is what you think I want?” The high pitch of her voice indicated that he’d upset her, but he could not fathom how or why. “I have not been ruined yet, sir, and if I were, it is doubtful I would accept such a proposal. Even from an old friend. How very distasteful.”

      “It’s practical, Bitt. We get along well enough.”

      “That is an exaggeration if I’ve ever heard one.”

      His cravat grew tighter by the second. His head pounded. “You are a woman of excellent taste, refined but timid, one whose biddable nature would do well in housewifery. If it is acceptable to you, I would ask your parents for your hand in marriage—”

      She reared back. “Have you lost your senses, Miles? We have nothing in common. Nothing at all. And I shall never marry unless for love. The matter is as simple as that. There is nothing that could induce me to marry you. Nothing at all.”

      “Not even scandal?”

      Her face flushed but she did not respond.

      He shifted on the seat, wondering if Bitt’s lady’s maid had heard her exclamation. “Your vehemence is unnecessary, my lady. A simple no will do. This is not my idea of fun. I simply thought to help.”

      Beneath the brim of her hat, her eyes flashed. “If I have wounded your ego or offended your pride, I do apologize, but for you to take me on this ride and hold out marriage as some kind of business offering...it