As the Devil Dares (Capturing the Carlisles #3)(63)
He nodded, but a perturbed frown pulled at his brow. Leading her more slowly now, he shot a glance behind her to where she’d been gazing when she stumbled. “You were looking at Carlisle.”
“Can you blame me?” Perturbed at being so easily caught gawking after the man, she arched a brow and pretended her attentions were simply part of their war. “A wise admiral always knows where the enemy’s fleet is anchored.”
He nodded but wisely kept them moving at a slower pace so she wouldn’t trip again, which was now at half speed to the orchestra and bottlenecked the couples behind them. She affectionately squeezed his hand. Whitby was a dear friend but an absolute menace on the dance floor.
“Didn’t you expect to see him waltzing?” he asked, as persistent as a dog after a bone.
Not at all. But she refused to admit that. “I’m only concerned about his unfortunate partner.” She sniffed and gave a haughty toss of her head. “That the poor girl must suffer his boorish attentions.”
He hee-hawed a laugh. “You’re jealous!”
Horror sank through her. “I most certainly am not!”
“Oh, you are.” He grinned like the cat who caught the canary. “Mrs. Smith is going to crow when I tell her!”
“I am not interested in Carlisle,” she hissed out, with a smile still firmly glued in place for anyone who was watching and a small pang of remorse for lying to her best friend. Whitby didn’t deserve her dissembling, but neither did she want to discuss Robert Carlisle with him. “That man has made my life a confused mess since the moment he walked into it.” And that was most definitely not a lie.
“Yes. But you’re still jealous that he’s waltzing with someone else, while you only had the opening quadrille.”
Blast him for being right! She was jealous. Whitby knew her too well not to notice that it pricked at her. But she would never tell him that she’d found herself attracted to Carlisle, enough that she’d let him kiss her so passionately in the schoolroom. Or admit to the hurt he’d inflicted when he’d made that callous comment about how he didn’t want to burn himself on her.
That other woman was welcome to him. Mariah certainly did not want that intolerable man for herself…but drat it, she didn’t want anyone else to have him, either.
“I will admit,” she answered, deliberately choosing her words, “that Robert Carlisle is an attractive man, if a lady likes that golden Adonis sort.” Which she did. A great deal. “And he does appear to have some fine qualities, if a person is able to overlook that prickly personality of his.”
“Prickly?” He glanced curiously in Robert’s direction. “That’s some neat trick.”
She puzzled. “What is?”
“How a man can turn himself into a cactus,” he goaded teasingly. “But then, Adonis was the god of plants.”
She rolled her eyes with failing patience. “Not of plants, Whitby. The god of spring’s rebirth.”
“So you admit that Carlisle is a god?”
“Robert Carlisle is not an Adonis!”
The aggravated words flew out before she could stop them, and in her pique, just loudly enough for all the nearby couples to hear. The women tittered at her embarrassment, while the men smiled smugly to have their jealous opinions of Robert confirmed.
A hot blush heated the back of her neck. For once, Whitby’s antics were not amusing. She lowered her voice and glared daggers at him, which only broadened his grin. Drat him.
“Robert Carlisle is attempting to take Winslow Shipping away from me,” she reminded him. “And his goal is to marry me off, don’t forget.”
That vanished his grin. He said somberly. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“And risk losing my allowance?” The severity of that thought landed hard on her shoulders, which sagged beneath the weight of it. That was still a very real threat. Papa would never force her to marry the first man who came along just to be wed and out of his house. But if a proper gentleman with a solid reputation and financial resources offered for her, then he might very well carry out his threat rather than let her refuse. “What would Gatewell do then? And all the children? Where would they go if they didn’t have us to shelter them? What would happen to them?”
When he couldn’t answer, she looked away as fresh frustration knotted inside her. Over a month had passed since Papa laid down his ultimatum, and nothing about her situation had changed. Her allowance was still as tenuous as ever, and Whitby certainly wasn’t helping with all his taunts about Robert.
“Then marry me instead,” he proposed earnestly.
Her chest tightened at the sweetness of his offer. One she would never accept. For all that she didn’t want marriage forced upon her, she still held out hope that one day she might find a husband who loved her. Whom she loved in return. And that man was not Hugh Whitby.
With a shake of her head, she answered gently, “You don’t love me.”
“Not romantically,” he admitted, giving her hand a squeeze, “but I do care about you. And I don’t want you to be hurt by Carlisle.”
Her eyes blurred. He no longer wore that silly grin but looked down at her with complete sincerity…and an expression lying somewhere between dreadful expectation and sheer terror that she might just accept. His offer to marry her only proved what a good man he was. And someday he would make a very wonderful husband. To some other woman.