“I’m a man in love.”
“You make me sick.” Marianne surged to her feet and turned on him. “You don’t love me. You love your vices.”
“This is all very well,” her father interjected. “But everyone in this house saw Tranter with his hands on her. He’s not the man I want for my daughter. He still has to marry her.”
“He’s a cheat and a thief and a slave to the gaming tables, Baildon. I wouldn’t entrust a torn handkerchief to him, let alone my flesh and blood,” Hillbrook said, his voice dripping contempt.
“Steady on,” Tranter said.
“My offer to marry Lady Marianne remains on the table,” Desborough said doggedly.
Marianne realized she’d always underestimated him. And because of that, he merited better than a tepid attachment. “My lord, I appreciate your gallantry, but my recklessness reflects badly on you. I can’t allow you to sacrifice your standing for chivalry’s sake.”
“Then what the devil’s to become of you, girl?” her father demanded. “Be damned if you’ll live under my roof, flaunting your folly.”
“Lord Baildon, I’ve offered your daughter a home while she considers her choices,” Hillbrook said as Marianne flinched from her father’s condemnation.
“We’d love to have you,” Sidonie said.
Her hosts’ generosity overwhelmed Marianne. Bravado told her to claim she could manage on her own, but the sad truth was that without her father’s support, she was penniless. “What about the scandal?”
To her surprise, Hillbrook laughed. “You call this little fuss a scandal? It hardly rates against the storms our family has weathered. Please say you’ll stay.”
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart,” Marianne said huskily. “I’ll be very glad to accept.”
“I commend the Hillbrooks for coming to your rescue, but that’s not your sole option,” a deep voice said from near the
roaring fire.
Marianne straightened and surveyed Elias with all the courage she could muster. “I won’t marry Tranter and it’s not fair to marry Desborough.”
He stayed leaning with apparent ease against the mantel. He was in his shirtsleeves and his black hair was ruffled as if he’d run his hand through it. “You could marry me.”
Chapter Thirteen
* * *
Predictably Elias’s calm statement made Marianne’s father erupt. “Like hell she will. I told you in London that if she weds you, she won’t see a penny of my money. She’ll come to you in her petticoat.”
“And I told you in London that your daughter is treasure enough for me, my lord.”
“Elias…” she said, stunned. “Do you mean it?”
He stepped across and took her trembling hands in his. After Tranter’s violence, the tenderness in his touch squeezed her heart. “Of course I do. I’ve always thought you utterly magnificent.”
“What about when I resisted you?” she asked. As Sidonie stepped away to grant them some illusion of privacy, Marianne caught the satisfied glance she cast her husband.
The familiar smile lengthened Elias’s lips. “Then you were magnificent, but misguided.” His expression turned intent. “So will you take me, my love?”
Feeling unsteady, Marianne curled her fingers around Elias’s. She stared into his face, hoping she was right to read love in his unwavering black gaze. “My father won’t give me a farthing if I marry you. He’s the stubbornest man I know.”
“I don’t give a tinker’s damn about the money. Surely you understand that by now. Even if you don’t, when I marry you, you’ll have to believe I’m no fortune hunter.”
“I won’t change my mind,” her father said mulishly from the middle of the room.
Elias glanced at him. “I never wanted your money. I only ever wanted Marianne.”
Tranter lunged forward. “Get away from her.”