The Suffragette Scandal
Page 56

He looked faintly annoyed. “I wasn’t thinking of Clermont,” he grumbled. “You’re making this difficult. You see, I had rather hoped that you might ask your husband to release you.”
Free’s mouth went dry. Her mind ceased to function.
“I haven’t got a husband.” But she could not look away from him, from his dark eyes resting on her. His hands still held hers. “And even if I did, he hasn’t any political clout.”
“Ah, but here’s the thing,” he said. “If you did have a husband, he might come up with any sort of political clout he wished. A signed, sworn statement of release from dead Prince Albert, if that would do the trick.”
Free choked. “Please don’t do that.”
“Of all the things that James might threaten, holding you in custody and doing you harm… I can’t bear thinking of the harm he might do.” His voice was low. “I’d learn necromancy and raise the dead myself, just to get you out.”
He was driving all possibility of thought from her. All thoughts of permits and arrest had been driven from her mind. She swallowed and looked up into his eyes. “Luckily, you don’t need to learn necromancy.”
“Luckily,” he agreed, “I don’t.”
“Even more luckily,” she heard herself say, “I don’t need a husband for that. I have you, and you could forge me false release papers without marrying me. Even if that were our only prospect. Which it isn’t.”
“Unluckily,” he said, without breaking into a smile, “you are right. There are several sad, gaping holes in my logic. I don’t suppose you’re interested in marrying a failed logician with necromantic tendencies, by any chance?”
Free took a deep breath. It didn’t seem to calm the whirl of her head. “That’s…a proposal of marriage? I just want to clarify matters. You see, it could also be a madman’s babble, and I want to be certain.”
“It’s a proposal.” His hands squeezed hers. “Of marriage. And this”—he reached into his pocket—“is a special license. Did you know the vicar will be around today until six?”
“Oh my God.” She dropped his hands. “Are you asking me to marry you today? Before you’ve had a chance to meet my parents? With nobody around to witness but Amanda and Alice?”
“I’m asking you to marry me within the next hour.” He simply looked at her. “I can’t think of a reason why you should. I have no moral sense to speak of. I lie, I cheat, I steal, and I’ll probably drive you away screaming within the week. But if you marry me, I’ll only do those things on your behalf.”
She shook her head reprovingly. “Edward.”
“Was that not any better as proposals go?”
“No. Not particularly. I can’t even tell if you mean it seriously.”
“Then try this one. I’ve spent all the last years of my life wandering around thinking, ‘This world is a terrible place; how can I take advantage of it?’ And then I met you.” He fell silent, but his eyes met hers.
Dark, deep pools. She’d only dreamed of him looking like that, looking at her as if she were everything to him. She felt her toes curl.
“I met you,” he continued, “and you said, ‘This world is a terrible place; how can I make it better?’ You kicked the foundation out from under me. You changed everything. You made me think that there might be more to my life than unending betrayal. So yes, Free. I want you. I want you to sit with me at breakfast and make me smile. I want you to lie with me at night and kiss me. I want you underneath me. I want everything about you.”
“Better.” Free squeezed his hands. “Keep going. I think that you can reduce me to a little puddle in another two minutes, if you keep at it. I’m halfway to liquid as it is.”
“Ah,” he said, leaning down to her. “Then I’d better stop. I love you with steel in your spine.”
She could not bring herself to let go of him. He was right. There were a thousand reasons she shouldn’t marry him. She didn’t even know the name he’d been born with. That hardly mattered; the family that had rejected him was nothing to her. Still…
“I have a handful of questions.”
“Only a handful?” His tone was light, but his hands tensed in hers.
“I’ll restrain myself for now,” she said, “and delay the other million for some later time. First, what of your business in Toulouse? Will we live here, and if so, what do you plan to do?”
He met her eyes. “I sold my business three days ago; I knew I was returning to England. As for what I am planning to do…” He let out a sigh. “There’s no hope for it, but I am going to pretend to be respectable. If I had my way, I’d start a metalworks here. I’d never interfere with your paper unless you wanted, and alas, I fear that general illicit activities would cause you problems. So I’ll abstain as best I can.”
She nodded. “Only one more question.”
She could feel the tension in him, every muscle from his shoulders on down going rigid.
“And that is: Do you love me?”
“That is a waste of a question.” He let go of her hands, but only to put his arm around her waist and draw her to him. “You know I do. I promised that if you Mr. Clarked me one last time, I’d take my retribution. And while I’m hardly the sort to keep inconvenient promises, this one…”
He leaned into her. His forehead touched hers; her lips warmed with the flow of his breath.
“This promise,” he whispered to her, “is the opposite of inconvenient.”
Free let out a soft sigh and brought her face up that last half inch, touching their lips together. He tasted so sweet that she could scarcely believe that she was kissing him again after all this time. But she set her hands on his shoulders, and he was real and solid. Her body pressed against his. Her mouth opened to him. Kissing him felt like sipping lamplight; she became more radiant with every touch of their tongues.
“Free, darling.”
“Edward,” she breathed.
“I still don’t have a good reason for you to marry me, but I have a multitude of bad ones. It’s impulsive. It’s foolish. I’m a scoundrel. There’s too much I haven’t told you, and no time for me to explain everything. You’ll hate me at least three times after this, before I convince you to love me.” His arm slipped down her body, pulling her even closer.