What A Gentleman Wants (39 page)

“I was not very kind to you, either,” she said, suddenly remembering all the things she had said to him and the even worse things she had thought about him. She’d been angry, no question, but she’d lost her temper many times and said things she shouldn’t have.

He waved it away. “I gave you no cause to be. And I was glad you weren’t.” She blinked in astonishment. “I would have seen it as proof you wanted to be the duchess in truth. After Susannah…” He cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “I was too accustomed to women who lied to get what they wanted. I would have believed any kindness on your part to be an act, a pretense meant to establish yourself so that I could never get rid of you.”

She shook her head in bemusement. “I shall never understand London ladies.”

“Nor I,” he said fervently, adding under his breath, “thank God.”

Before she could ask what that meant, there was a tap on the door and Rosalind peered in at them. “I’ve spoken to Celia; Molly is sound asleep. Is everything settled here?” she asked.

Marcus looked at Hannah, who smiled widely. It seemed everything was, finally, settled: David and Marcus had patched up some of their differences, Bentley and his accomplices were on their way to prison, and David would be cleared of any charges. Molly was safely tucked in Celia’s bed, and no one was seriously wounded. Things had settled rather well indeed. “No,” he said, to her surprise. There is one vital question left.“

“What is it?” asked Rosalind anxiously, as Hannah turned alarmed eyes on him. “Is David—?”

“No, it’s naught to do with David.” He cleared his throat, then shot Hannah an unreadable glance. “There’s one more thing I must do, but it must be handled with some delicacy.”

There was a moment of silence. Then Rosalind clapped her hands, a brilliant smile creeping over her face. “Oh, Marcus! Do you mean you haven’t already? What are you waiting for?”

“For you to close the door behind you,” he said.

His stepmother made one last chirp of glee, then closed the door softly. Mouth suddenly dry, Hannah hardly dared look at him.

He seemed just as nervous. He leaned over, bracing his hands on his desk, then straightened and put them in his pockets. Then he cleared his throat again and darted a quick glance at her.

“What I said in the carriage this evening,” he began, “I should not have said.”

Her heart dropped a foot. Good heavens. He’d said he loved her.

“It was not the right time or place,” he went on, “to say such a thing. In a speeding carriage, sending you off to summon the Runners alone while I tried to keep David from an early death in my place. I should not have said…” He hesitated.

Hannah cleared her throat. “When did you plan to say it?” she asked softly, barely able to hear her own voice over the thudding of her heart

He was fiddling with a paper. “Tonight I planned to arrange a private dinner in my suite—knowing Rosalind would be ecstatic not to dine with us—and then…” He smiled slightly, unfolding a special license to marry. “I always was a great one for plans, and yet since you’ve arrived, not a one of them has gone off as I expected.”

“Yes,” she murmured. “I know just what you mean.”

His smile grew rueful. “Do you? I wonder why.”

She heaved a sigh, “Yes, I’ve learned so very much since I came to London.”

He chuckled. “And I am hoping to teach you so much more.”

Hannah grinned. “I shall do my best to learn.” He surprised her then by grabbing her around the waist, swinging her up to sit on his desk.

“It may require many”—he cupped her face in his hands—“many, many lessons.”

She met his eyes, now alight with that warmth she loved so well. “I hope so. In fact, I demand it.”

All the teasing left his face, replaced by an expression of such longing and love, Hannah felt the backs of her eyelids prickle with tears. “I think…” he said haltingly. “I believe this is the right time to say it. I do love you, Hannah Jane Preston, more than I ever thought I could love a woman. I want you for my duchess, my wife in everyway.” He paused, searching her face. “If that is agreeable to you.”

“Well, I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I haven’t any wealth.”

“Do you require any?” he exclaimed, looking severely nonplussed.

“Nor any consequence,” she went on. “In fact, the only standing I may have in town is as a figure of fun, for my freckles and common, country ways.”

“No one would dare—” he began swiftly, then stopped short, a knowing look creeping over his fece.

“And if anyone were to find I climbed a chimney only to ruin some of the Exeter pearls, I fear not a lady in London would speak to me again.” She peeked at Marcus, to see if he were following her. A faint smile tugged at his mouth, and that devilish light glowed in his eyes.

“Then we shan’t have to waste our time attending their inconsequential little routs and balls. I’ve a fancy to stay home at nights more, anyway,” he said.

“That is very fortunate, for I have no connections, either,” she finished with a theatrical sigh. “None at all. Quite likely we’ll never be invited anywhere again.”

“Hmm.” He rested his hands behind her hips, angling her back on the tabletop. “You shall be connected to me,” he murmured. “Quite… intimately.” Then he cocked his head, as if listening. “But you’ve not yet mentioned your one asset, poor though it may be.”

Now it was her turn to blink at him in bemusement. Gendy, Marcus took her hand in his and placed it on his chest, pressing it flat with his own hand until she could feel the steady thump of his heart.

For a moment they just stared at each other. Hannah felt herself falling all over again at the expression on his face. “Yes,” she whispered. “All that would be most agreeable to me.”

His grip on her hand tightened for a second. “Can you truly love an arrogant, heartless beast?”

She smiled back at him. “Can you truly love a plain, provincial girl?”

He pondered a moment. “Forever more, or here and now, on this desk?” Hannah’s eyes popped open in surprise, and then Marcus shrugged, pressing her back, crawling on top of the desk above her. “Never mind, for the answer’s the same.” Hannah gave a little shriek, losing her balance and ending up sprawled across his desk. With a wicked gleam in his eyes, Marcus shoved his ledgers and papers to the floor. “I seem to have a problem with tables lately. Every time I see one, I think of making love to you on it.”

Hannah thought of the dozens of tables in Exeter House. She slid her arms around his neck as he bent over her. “I may hold you to that.”

He laughed, his breath warm against her lips. “Just so long as you hold me, darling.”