Forsaking the Prize (The Wild Randalls 2)

“Oh, I’m not tame. Need I remind you of our time spent as husband and wife?”

“No.” Blythe rubbed her arms. She couldn’t forget how wonderful he’d been. “I remember everything in vivid detail.”

“Blythe,” Tobias whispered. “What must an improper gentleman do in order to win himself a proper wife?”

It took Blythe a moment to understand him. When she did, her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon.”

“Don’t make me repeat the question. Mercy may become curious and interrupt at any moment.”

She pressed her clammy hands together, shocked that he was serious about the matter. “I. Um. A gentleman would take the time to get to know the woman before he proposed.”

He spoke to Edwin about their game and then smiled at her. “And when he was sure enough of her character, what then?”

“He might steal a kiss to gauge her interest.”

His brow rose. “A little further along if you please.”

“If he was in earnest, he would go to her father or guardian and ask his permission.”

His brow rose. “Even if she were an independent sort and of age?”

“Well, he would need to know the family approved of the match beforehand unless he wanted to start a mar

riage with family strife over his head.”

Tobias set his hands to the floor and moved closer. “This is all before he even asks the woman if she was done with her mourning and gathers his courage to ask her to marry him?”

Blythe clenched her hands together to hide the shake. “Well, normally, yes.”

“Society really does make this harder than it needs to be.”

Blythe rushed on. “After that, he would present himself to the lady in question.”

“Bring flowers, fall upon his knees, and beg to be put out of his misery.”

“Misery? Marriage is supposed to be a joyous event.”

“Yes, B, this part is misery.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Damned complicated business. How might she answer?”

His gaze pinned her in place and she couldn’t speak for a long moment. “It would depend on the lady.”

“Hmm, that I knew from the outset.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Hold onto that thought,” he whispered. “Something’s amiss.”

Twenty Nine

Oliver glanced about them, a touch of nervousness in his expression. “When was the last time anyone saw Wilcox or another servant?”

Leopold frowned. “Not since you first arrived. I was actually annoyed that he’d neglected his duties. Why?”

Oliver scanned the room. “Where are the duke’s weapons stored now?”

“There are none here. I’ve locked them all up.” Leopold gaped. “But I have one on me. Why?”

“There are many footsteps in the entrance hall,” Oliver warned. “Heavy ones.”

Tobias strained but heard nothing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, quite.” Oliver tugged on his waistcoat and stood unsteadily. “They’ve come, as I expected them to come once they’ve realized I have returned. They want the location of the duke’s sanctuary.”