Free Midnight Marriage: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Series) by Lucinda Brant Page A

wink at his godfather that did not go unnoticed by Deborah. “Maman blames herself. She has a sparrow’s appetite, yet when she was pregnant with me she craved all this. Rather an omen. Poor mon père ,” he laughed, “how he must have suffered.”
    Martin Ellicott thought such intimate conversation unfit for the ears of a young lady and his whole being stiffened. Yet he needn’t have concerned himself Miss Cavendish would take offense. She barely heard a word Julian had said for she had fixed on her host’s quickly corrected slip of the tongue and the wink of secret understanding that had passed between the two men. Her gaze flew across the table to the Marquis, who was looking at her intently, before she lowered it to the contents of her coffee dish.
    “Ah. Apologies,” he said as he pushed back his chair to stand. “Martin will be appalled at my lack of manners.” He made her a short bow. “Allow me to introduce myself: Julian Hesham Esq.” He glanced at the old man. “Miss Cavendish and I have been discussing our marriage—”
    Deb’s eyes immediately lifted from her coffee dish as a ready blush of embarrassment seized her throat and cheeks. It was one thing to jest of marriage with her in private conversation, quite another to continue the jest in front of her host who, one swift glance in his direction told Deb the old man was in utter disbelief at his godson’s pronouncement.
    “You must stop this nonsense at once,” she demanded in a low voice, up on her feet.
    “—and how I put my foot down at inviting her brother Sir Gerald to stay overnight,” the Marquis finished off, both men instantly on their feet the moment she scraped back her chair.
    “It wouldn’t have mattered to me one jot had you been an adventurer,” Deb continued, napkin cast aside. “But to tease a girl you have only met once and in-in trying circumstances, a girl you know not the first particular about and who knows nothing about you, with an offer of marriage, an obligation you have no intention of fulfilling, is beyond forgiveness .”
    Julian appealed to Martin Ellicott. “Tell her I am in earnest, mon parrain .”
    “I do not know what circles you mix in, Mr. Hesham, if that is in truth your name, but in the society to which I belong, your actions would not only be considered heartless but unconscionable! And—and those of a-a lunatic .”
    “Please, Miss Cavendish, if you would—”
    “Why do you smile? Do you think it amusing? Do you see me as an object of fun, sir? To a gentleman of your address, adventurer or no, I suppose a spinster nearing her twenty-first birthday must amuse someone used to the attentions of—oh! a dozen females at every ball and rout. Well, I assure you, yours is not the only marriage proposal I’ve ever received! In fact, the ones I have received were in earnest, not made as a cruel jest! Indeed I had one this morning. And from a gentleman who would never make me such an offer unless he truly meant it!”
    “I repeat: I am in earnest.”
    “To think I went to the trouble of bandaging you up!”
    “And a very good job of bandaging you did too. May I know the fellow’s name who proposed to you?”
    “No. You may not!” she breathed indignantly and then opened wide her brown eyes at his look of amusement. “Oh, I see. You don’t believe me, is that it?”
    “Of course I believe you, Miss Cavendish,” he assured her, following Deb to the low wall, a handkerchief at the ready. “It’s just that I wonder why you have not accepted one of these proposals before now…?”
    Deb rounded on him then and he found it hard to keep a straight face because she was scowling at him and it brought back a flash of vivid memory, of a thin shouldered barefoot girl in an over large nightgown. It amazed him to think he had not recalled her before now.
    “I will not take offense at that remark because you do not know my history,” she said in a low voice, the scowl deepening spying the handkerchief