He ran a hand over his face, then leaned back in his chair. Marriage. He'd known the instant he'd seen the Digby daughters at the tower that he would have to marry Elizabeth. She'd saved his life and ruined herself in the process. Of course, both Digby daughters had vowed ad nauseam, that they wouldn't breathe a word of what they'd seen, and he supposed that was possible. After all, the idiotic chits didn't want him off the marriage mart-unless it was to leg-shackle himself to one of them, a prospect that brought a shudder and had him reaching for his brandy. But their promised silence was not something he trusted.

Marriage. He'd avoided it for years. Yet, for reasons he could not decipher, he wasn't distressed at the prospect. He realized a few eyebrows would be raised at his choice of an American for his duchess, but as she was the niece of an earl, he knew the ripple would quickly quiet.

In fact, he knew damn well that once the engagement was announced, the same people who now disparaged Miss Elizabeth Matthews, Colonial Upstart, would seek to gain the favor of the future Duchess of Bradford. Although the knowledge disgusted him, he couldn't squelch the grim satisfaction that flowed through him. No one would dare utter another unkind word against her without incurring his wrath.

A series of mental pictures of Elizabeth rose before him. Elizabeth tumbling out of the bushes. Sleeping under the huge oak tree. Sketching him. Sliding off her horse. Covered in mud. Smiling. Laughing. Teasing.

A smile tugged at his lips. Although there was no denying this was a marriage of convenience to save her from ruin, he suspected he wouldn't find married life boring.

And of course marriage would allow him to bed her. His pulse stirred at the very thought. He pictured her lying in his bed her beautiful hair spread all around her, her arms reaching out for him. That part of his marriage would be very… pleasurable.

Now all he had to do was propose.


When Elizabeth entered his study late that afternoon in answer to his summons, Austin was amused by the thorough visual inspection she gave him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked looking concerned. "You should be resting."

"I'm fine, thanks to you." He smiled at her and was rewarded with a delicate pink blush.

"Is your wound causing you any discomfort? I can mix you a remedy if it is."

He recalled the last foul-tasting tisane she'd given him and barely suppressed a shudder. "It hardly hurts at all. That salve you prepared worked wonders."

"I'm glad." Her gaze scanned his face, then rested on the bandage at his temple. "It is indeed fortunate that I possess such a robust constitution or you may have frightened me to death." Once again meeting his eyes, she said briskly, "But we've already argued about that. I understand you wish to discuss something with me?"

Austin hesitated, not quite sure how to proceed. He normally was never at a loss for words, especially with a woman, but then he'd never proposed before.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sure you're aware that what happened last evening and our being discovered together this morning essentially destroyed your reputation."

She raised her brows. "Have the Digby girls been gossiping in spite of their promises not to? Caroline all but held me prisoner in her bedchamber since we arrived back at the house this morning, and she's refused to discuss matters with me until you and I spoke. If a scandal is brewing, surely we can squelch any rumors. After all, nothing happened between us."

"Really?" Reaching out, he trailed a fingertip over the pale freckles gilding her nose. "We kissed." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "We spent the night alone together. We were discovered wrapped in each other's arms."

Color stained her cheeks. "You were injured and I helped you. That we spent the night together is totally beside the point, and it was also unavoidable. Surely anyone would understand that."

"No one would understand that, Elizabeth. Most especially not your aunt."

"Oh, dear. Has a scandal erupted?"

"No."

"Then Aunt Joanna doesn't-" "She knows."

"She does? How do you know that?"

"I told her."

She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. "It appears it isn't the Digby girls' mouths we need to worry about running amok. What exactly did you tell her?"

"The truth. That my injuries, coupled with the storm, necessitated us spending the night together at the ruins. Unchaperoned."

"Was Aunt Joanna terribly upset?"

"Not after I assured her that no scandal would touch you. In fact, she was quite pleased with my solution."

"What solution?"

"You and I shall marry."

She appeared frozen in place, a study of blank amazement. She stared at him and a full minute of the most deafening silence he'd ever heard ensued. With each passing second his heart beat in slower, harder thumps until his chest felt as if it would burst. Finally she cleared her throat and spoke.

"You must be joking."

It was Austin's turn to stare. He wasn't certain what he'd thought her response would be, but it hadn't occurred to him she would think he spoke in jest.

"I assure you I am quite serious," he said stiffly. "As my wife, no one would dare utter a word against you. Any dalliance we may have engaged in prior to the actual nuptials would be overlooked because a wedding was in the immediate offing."

She clasped her hands in front of her, twisting her fingers. "Austin, I greatly appreciate this noble gesture, but surely such drastic measures are unnecessary."

"Such measures are absolutely necessary. Even if you choose to shrug off the damage to your reputation, the scandal will attach itself to Lady Penbroke. Do you want to see her ostracized from Society?"

"Of course not! Aunt Joanna has been nothing but kind to me."

"And would you repay her kindness by risking her position amongst the ton?"

Her eyes widened into pools of distress. "No! But-"

"Then marriage is the only way to protect yourself and her," he stated amazed-and damn it, annoyed-by her obvious reluctance to become his wife.

Her golden brown gaze was so filled with worry, he wondered if he'd proposed marriage or a tar and feathering. A thread of unexpected amusement worked its way through his irritation-not at her, but at himself and his own conceit. He'd never expected he'd actually need to convince a woman to be his bride.

One look at her face told him he'd have to do just that.

Adopting a mildly teasing tone, he said "Your expression, which can only be described as troubled, indicates you haven't taken into account the fact that marriage to me would come along with certain benefits."

His pride took another slap at her confused look.

"Benefits?"

"Yes. It is an English word meaning 'good things.' For instance, you would be a duchess."

Every drop of color drained from her face. "I do not want to be a duchess!"

He would have staked his own life on the certainty that he'd never hear those words uttered from any woman's lips. Before he could fashion a reply, she started to pace in front of him.

"Surely you can see that I'm a social failure and would make a dreadful duchess," she said. "People snicker at me from behind potted palms. I'm awkward. I know nothing about fashion. I'm a miserable dancer. And in case you haven't noticed I'm horribly tall."

Austin's jaw tightened. "No one will snicker at the Duchess of Bradford." Not if they want to keep all their teeth in place. "As for the other things, you can easily learn about fashion and dancing. Between your aunt, my mother, and Caroline, you'll know more than you ever wanted to."

She stopped pacing and faced him, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're quite adept at solving problems, I see. How do you propose we cure my height?"

He stroked his chin and pretended to ponder the matter. "Personally, I rather like the easy access to your mouth, and in case it's missed your notice, I am taller than you."

Her eyes filled with tenderness. "Oh, Austin, you are indeed wonderful to offer to sacrifice yourself this way, but I simply cannot allow you to do so. I would never want to bring embarrassment or shame to you and your family."

He barely refrained from shaking his head in amazement. She wasn't thinking of herself-she was thinking of him. And how ironic that the things she believed were faults-her awkwardness, her lack of dancing ability and fashion sense, and her height-were just a few of the dozens of things he found so unique, refreshing, and fascinating about her. The fact that she would even consider not accepting an offer of marriage from the man dubbed "England's Most Eligible Bachelor" truly stunned him.

And made him all the more determined to have his way.

As for bringing shame to the Bradford name, there wasn't anything she could do that could be worse than the secrets he already lived with-secrets that would destroy his entire family.

"You don't want to embarrass me, yet refusing my proposal will do just that," he said. "Everyone will believe that I'm a dishonorable libertine who ruined you, then refused to offer you marriage." He pushed aside his guilt at manipulating her soft heart and forced himself to add "I'd be summarily cast out of Society, no doubt forced to flee to the Continent like Brummell."

"Oh, Austin, I-"

He touched a single fingertip to her lips. "Marry me, Elizabeth." To his surprise, he realized he was holding his breath, anxiously awaiting her answer.

Elizabeth gazed at his impossibly handsome, incredibly serious face and her insides simply melted. His proposal reverberated over and over again in her mind. Marry me. Marry me. Marry me.