The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(67)

His hands tightened on hers and he inhaled, leaning in. But despite the hungry look in his eye, he didn’t make good on his promise.

“Alas,” he said. “Business comes before pleasure. There’s something you must know.”

Business. She could hardly care about business when he’d called her maddeningly beautiful, when he’d taken her hands and threatened to kiss her.

He eyed her. “James Delacey is targeting you again.”

Of all the things she thought he might have come to tell her…

Free frowned in confusion. “And you heard this all the way in Toulouse?”

“I hear everything.” He said this with a small smile. “There are some things you ought to realize. First, they’ve quashed the permit for your demonstration tomorrow. You should have received notice of that, but he managed to quash that, too.”

“That’s an annoyance.” Free frowned. It was too late to call matters off. They had no way to contact the participants, not at this late a date. The last call had gone out in their papers two days before. And she couldn’t leave the women to face the consequences alone.

“It’s more than an annoyance.”

“Yes, it’s a crying shame. We had planned such a nice demonstration, too. For every four women wearing white, we’ll have ninety-six in black wearing gags, to represent the proportion of women who would be able to vote under the proposed bill. It’s going to make such a striking display. We’ll have photographs of it all.” She sighed, but then brightened. “And the only thing that could make it better would be if they arrested the lot of us. Then all the newspapers will cover the story.”

He didn’t smile. “This is different. The constables have orders not to release you. And Delacey has plans for what will happen afterward.”

She shrugged. “My brother will raise the biggest… Ah. Well. I suppose he won’t.” He couldn’t, at least not immediately. He was out of the country with his family. “My father?”

“A fine pugilist, but he hasn’t the political clout necessary to effect your release. Free, I don’t think you’re taking this seriously. You don’t know what Delacey will do to you, and—”

She couldn’t think about that, not without a shiver of fear. Free shook her head. “What about the Duke of Clermont? He’s in town. He’s my brother’s brother. It’s complicated, and I’d hate to lean on him, but in a pinch, he’d do.”

He looked faintly annoyed. “I wasn’t thinking of Clermont,” he grumbled. “You’re making this difficult. You see, I had rather hoped that you might ask your husband to release you.”

Free’s mouth went dry. Her mind ceased to function.

“I haven’t got a husband.” But she could not look away from him, from his dark eyes resting on her. His hands still held hers. “And even if I did, he hasn’t any political clout.”

“Ah, but here’s the thing,” he said. “If you did have a husband, he might come up with any sort of political clout he wished. A signed, sworn statement of release from dead Prince Albert, if that would do the trick.”

Free choked. “Please don’t do that.”

“Of all the things that James might threaten, holding you in custody and doing you harm… I can’t bear thinking of the harm he might do.” His voice was low. “I’d learn necromancy and raise the dead myself, just to get you out.”

He was driving all possibility of thought from her. All thoughts of permits and arrest had been driven from her mind. She swallowed and looked up into his eyes. “Luckily, you don’t need to learn necromancy.”

“Luckily,” he agreed, “I don’t.”

“Even more luckily,” she heard herself say, “I don’t need a husband for that. I have you, and you could forge me false release papers without marrying me. Even if that were our only prospect. Which it isn’t.”

“Unluckily,” he said, without breaking into a smile, “you are right. There are several sad, gaping holes in my logic. I don’t suppose you’re interested in marrying a failed logician with necromantic tendencies, by any chance?”

Free took a deep breath. It didn’t seem to calm the whirl of her head. “That’s…a proposal of marriage? I just want to clarify matters. You see, it could also be a madman’s babble, and I want to be certain.”

“It’s a proposal.” His hands squeezed hers. “Of marriage. And this”—he reached into his pocket—“is a special license. Did you know the vicar will be around today until six?”

“Oh my God.” She dropped his hands. “Are you asking me to marry you today? Before you’ve had a chance to meet my parents? With nobody around to witness but Amanda and Alice?”

“I’m asking you to marry me within the next hour.” He simply looked at her. “I can’t think of a reason why you should. I have no moral sense to speak of. I lie, I cheat, I steal, and I’ll probably drive you away screaming within the week. But if you marry me, I’ll only do those things on your behalf.”

She shook her head reprovingly. “Edward.”

“Was that not any better as proposals go?”

“No. Not particularly. I can’t even tell if you mean it seriously.”