as his rightful possession.
Then he remembered where they were.
Setting her back on her feet, Ben looked into her eyes,
questioning her. He spoke softly. “Marry me, Jean?”
“Yes, Mr. Tilbury, I accept your offer.”
Relief weakened his knees and he fought the urge to yell.
“Ben, please call me Ben.”
Jean’s face glowed and her eyes sparkled like sunlight on
the ocean. “I must tell Mother.”
“I’m afraid there is someone else you must speak to first.”
She frowned, then her mouth rounded. “Oh dear, I’d forgotten
about him. I must go to him.” She patted at her hair, her gown, her lips.
“He’ll be able to see it in me, that I’ve been kissing you.”
“He will see nothing but the beautiful young lady he
probably wishes to propose to.”
“I must hurry.” She scurried out into the hallway.
Ben watched her go and wished she appeared well and truly
branded by his kiss. He gained satisfaction and relief in knowing Jean was
finally his. And that she’d been able to forget Lord Milquetoast in the brief
moments of their embrace.
Chapter Six
Jean nearly floated to the morning room but forced herself
to some small sedation before greeting Lord Milford. He appeared put out by
having been kept waiting but smiled when she approached.
“Miss Seton, how are you?”
“I am well, thank you.”
“Might I have a moment with you in private?”
Biting her lip, Jean wondered how one was supposed to handle
such a situation. Two proposals in one morning? Agnes would be in high dudgeon.
But perhaps she would recover quickly when she realized this meant Lord Milford
was back on the market. “Yes, if you wish it.” She peered around him to Mrs.
Granderson.
“I believe the parlor should suit your need,” the woman said
with her all-knowing smile.
Walking briskly, Jean led the way to the parlor, grateful
she’d closed the library doors. Once more facing a nervous gentleman, she
waited for the first opportunity to redirect the conversation.
“Miss Seton, I'm certain you know my feelings for you—”
“Please, my lord, do not continue.”
“But I must. It’s why I came to see you.”
“I only wish to save you any discomfort. I have recently—quite
recently, in fact��accepted an offer from another gentleman. So you see, there’s
no need for you to say anything more.” She knew she was babbling, but the words
spilled out even as she tried to think of what to say.
“I see.” Lord Milford cleared his throat. “I had no idea…”
“I do hope any discomfort this brings you will be of short
duration, my lord.”
He bowed abruptly. “I have stayed overlong. I wish you a
pleasant morning.”
Jean waited until the front door closed and she knew the man
was gone, then she idled her way to the morning room and took her seat. She
sipped her tea, which had gone cold, and stared at the wall opposite her,
imagining what her life was going to be like.
Mrs. Granderson folded a letter with excessive noise. “I
wonder where that nephew of mine has gotten to?”
“Oh!” Jean set her cup down with a clatter. “Oh.”
Mr. Tilbury—Ben, sat on the chaise in the library, his head
in his hands. Was he already regretting his proposal? Jean’s heart squeezed
tightly. No, she must stop doubting him. “Ben, are you unwell?”
He jumped to his feet. “I am well, I assure you. I confess,
I had some qualms over your visit from Lord Milford.”
His hair showed the result of his fingers tugging at it, and
Jean refrained from repairing the style. Was that too forward of her to do so
now? Folding her hands in front of her, she smiled up at him. “That gentleman
won’t be calling here anymore.”
“I am glad of it.” Ben’s voice came out husky. “We should
speak to your mother, I suppose.”
“I am fairly certain both she and your aunt are fully
knowledgeable of what words were exchanged here.”
“Not all of them, I hope.”
The warmth of her flush began low on her neck and
Then he remembered where they were.
Setting her back on her feet, Ben looked into her eyes,
questioning her. He spoke softly. “Marry me, Jean?”
“Yes, Mr. Tilbury, I accept your offer.”
Relief weakened his knees and he fought the urge to yell.
“Ben, please call me Ben.”
Jean’s face glowed and her eyes sparkled like sunlight on
the ocean. “I must tell Mother.”
“I’m afraid there is someone else you must speak to first.”
She frowned, then her mouth rounded. “Oh dear, I’d forgotten
about him. I must go to him.” She patted at her hair, her gown, her lips.
“He’ll be able to see it in me, that I’ve been kissing you.”
“He will see nothing but the beautiful young lady he
probably wishes to propose to.”
“I must hurry.” She scurried out into the hallway.
Ben watched her go and wished she appeared well and truly
branded by his kiss. He gained satisfaction and relief in knowing Jean was
finally his. And that she’d been able to forget Lord Milquetoast in the brief
moments of their embrace.
Chapter Six
Jean nearly floated to the morning room but forced herself
to some small sedation before greeting Lord Milford. He appeared put out by
having been kept waiting but smiled when she approached.
“Miss Seton, how are you?”
“I am well, thank you.”
“Might I have a moment with you in private?”
Biting her lip, Jean wondered how one was supposed to handle
such a situation. Two proposals in one morning? Agnes would be in high dudgeon.
But perhaps she would recover quickly when she realized this meant Lord Milford
was back on the market. “Yes, if you wish it.” She peered around him to Mrs.
Granderson.
“I believe the parlor should suit your need,” the woman said
with her all-knowing smile.
Walking briskly, Jean led the way to the parlor, grateful
she’d closed the library doors. Once more facing a nervous gentleman, she
waited for the first opportunity to redirect the conversation.
“Miss Seton, I'm certain you know my feelings for you—”
“Please, my lord, do not continue.”
“But I must. It’s why I came to see you.”
“I only wish to save you any discomfort. I have recently—quite
recently, in fact��accepted an offer from another gentleman. So you see, there’s
no need for you to say anything more.” She knew she was babbling, but the words
spilled out even as she tried to think of what to say.
“I see.” Lord Milford cleared his throat. “I had no idea…”
“I do hope any discomfort this brings you will be of short
duration, my lord.”
He bowed abruptly. “I have stayed overlong. I wish you a
pleasant morning.”
Jean waited until the front door closed and she knew the man
was gone, then she idled her way to the morning room and took her seat. She
sipped her tea, which had gone cold, and stared at the wall opposite her,
imagining what her life was going to be like.
Mrs. Granderson folded a letter with excessive noise. “I
wonder where that nephew of mine has gotten to?”
“Oh!” Jean set her cup down with a clatter. “Oh.”
Mr. Tilbury—Ben, sat on the chaise in the library, his head
in his hands. Was he already regretting his proposal? Jean’s heart squeezed
tightly. No, she must stop doubting him. “Ben, are you unwell?”
He jumped to his feet. “I am well, I assure you. I confess,
I had some qualms over your visit from Lord Milford.”
His hair showed the result of his fingers tugging at it, and
Jean refrained from repairing the style. Was that too forward of her to do so
now? Folding her hands in front of her, she smiled up at him. “That gentleman
won’t be calling here anymore.”
“I am glad of it.” Ben’s voice came out husky. “We should
speak to your mother, I suppose.”
“I am fairly certain both she and your aunt are fully
knowledgeable of what words were exchanged here.”
“Not all of them, I hope.”
The warmth of her flush began low on her neck and
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