Page 55 of The Lyon Rampant

Chapter Twenty-Five

Piers had never wanted anything more desperately than he did now. There was no time to waste—Belinda mustn’t be allowed to become bored or frustrated.

“Piers, what on earth are you doing?”

“I’ll only be a moment—be patient, I beg you.” He wanted to do this properly. At least, as properly as one could while half-naked, partly wrapped in a sheet, and with none of the trappings normally connected with a proposal.

“Piers.”

“No, seriously, just bear with me—there’ll be one in one of the prop boxes. Ah! Here we are.”

He dived into a chest containing fake jewelry, mostly made from paste and bronze, and all of exaggerated size so it could be seen by the audience. Aha! That would do. He grabbed the ring and hastened back to Belinda, looking soft and glorious on their improvised bed. Her blue eyes seemed huge in her elfin face, and she looked solemn.

“Piers,” she began again, but he pressed a finger against her lips.

“My beloved Belinda,” he said, getting down on one knee, “Will you make me the happiest man alive and agree to be my wife?”

He waited, his thudding heart seemingly the only sound in the room. He held out the ring for her inspection, a gaudy piece he’d seen on Desdemona’s hand during a performance of Othello. “It won’t fit, of course, but it’s only a token. I had hoped it would amuse you.”

She held his gaze, and there was no smile on her face. The gay, giggling young woman of a few hours ago had been replaced by someone who seemed far older and weighed down with troubles. A sliver of fear slid down his spine.

After some difficulty with the sheet, he crouched next to her on the heap of costumes and took her cold hand in his.

“Do you doubt me, my darling? If I appear foolish, it is only because I am so deliriously happy. And it is you that has made me so. You have already agreed to a false engagement—had you never considered what it might be like to be genuinely betrothed to me?”

“Oh, Piers—I don’t want to hurt you. What we have found together—it’s better than I could ever have imagined. But how can I trust words spoken in the heat of the moment? In the cold light of day, you will regret having made your offer.”

Her negativity unnerved him. He regretted nothing, but perhaps she did. Had he just made the most stupid mistake of his life?

“Then don’t hurt me. Marry me. It would solve your problems, wouldn’t it? I swear on all that’s sacred that I’ll give you whatever freedom you need, and you never need to worry about money again. I also swear to be faithful—you already know that my relationship with Sally and Katie is purely a front. I have no mistress and never will. What I mean is—why would I ever leave your side, or seek the company of any other female but you?”

He pressed his temples. Was he going in the right direction with this? He hadn’t had any time to think about what he was going to say—he only knew what his heart told him. And there was only one thing that could stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. He needed a simple “yes.”

“You’re very kind, Piers, and I’m sure that you’ll do those things and be good to me. But I worry that you have been pressured into this by the requirements of Society—that kiss being witnessed by your father propelled us along this path, and after tonight, you feel you have to do the right thing by me. But we might escape detection. There are plenty of disguises in this room, and if the first person to unlock it is Phillips, then I’m sure he won’t spread any rumors for fear of losing his position. I can be masked. I can be anybody.”

She was becoming remote from him, building up problems and obstacles, coming up with solutions . . . anything to avoid having to marry him.

“Forget about Society. Forget about reputations. I’ve spent enough time in your company to know that I want to spend more, and I’m jealous that some other man will win your heart. Call it selfishness, but I want you to be mine and nobody else’s. Is that selfish?” He took her hand, and pressed it against his chest. “Can you feel my heart?”

She nodded.

“It is beating for you, only for you. There is nothing I want more in the world than to spend the rest of my days with you.”

“Piers—you have come to mean so much to me, and I don’t think I’ve ever met a better man. Admittedly, I didn’t like you at first, but I’ve learned not to be so judgmental of other people. But even if I trust in your promises, there are still aspects of your life that make me uncomfortable. I know they may not seem important in this strange world between worlds, where magic and romance are intertwined and anything seems possible. But you have your son to think of. I would hate myself if I ever came between a father and his child, particularly a loyal father like yourself who has put up with so much over the years and never had any joy.”

He saw her blink away a tear and knew she was thinking of what she’d missed after her baby was stillborn. He kissed her tears away, and held her against him, resting his chin on her hair, and wishing with all his heart that she could feel his sincerity beating through him. Yes—he would have to find a way to ensure that his son had a good life and Charlotte was happy. He would live in hope that one day, he could persuade her to let him at least have access to Oliver. But what would happen when he and Belinda had their own children? How would Belinda feel if he adopted Oliver as his heir, thereby depriving her offspring of their inheritance?

“Thank you for your compliments, my darling. I understand your concerns about Oliver. I have them too, and I’m glad you’ve opened my eyes to the potential problems. But they are only potential, and they may never amount to anything—there are always ways in which such things can be overcome. You mustn’t be afraid. I’m not going to disappear, I’ll not put my life at risk, like Lieutenant Coyle. I will always be there for you, and whatever problems we encounter, we’ll face them together and conquer them. So please, please, don’t worry about Oliver and Charlotte. Just say you’ll marry me.”

He understood entirely why she wanted assurances. And she wasn’t just thinking of herself—she was thinking of him too, bless her heart.

“I—I cannot ask this of you, Piers. It’s about your mine, Wheal Betty.”

“Hmm. I could change its name, you know. How does ‘Wheal Belinda’ sound to you?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m thinking about what you’re mining and what it’s used for. The lead that’s used to make ammunition.”

He drew back from her, puzzled. “What’s wrong with lead shot?”