“I am grateful,” she said.
“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said in a harsh voice.
“I don’t understand.” Tilly dug her toes into her shoes to stop from moving at the fierce look on his face.
“You will not go driving with Howard, Tilly. Promise me.”
“Why? What possible reason could you have to speak that way? Mr. Howard is a nice man and no threat to me.”
He closed his eyes briefly, and her heart sank. Something had happened.
“What has happened? Is someone hurt, or abducted. Is it?—”
“No, it is nothing like that.” He seemed to collect himself before continuing. “This will come as a surprise, as it does for me, considering our relationship, but I must be honest with you now.”
“Of course. Please continue.” This man had saved her, and for that, she would listen to whatever he needed to say.
“I am not the easiest man, or so my sisters routinely tell me, and am quite set in my ways.”
He looked nervous now, and for the life of her, she could not fathom why.
“They say that love and hate go hand in hand,” he continued. “So I’m just going to ask what I need to, Tilly.”
She nodded, suddenly tense.
“I love you. Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage, Miss Matilda Wilson?”
The shock of those words had her mouth falling open.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, and finding you inside that crate will haunt me for the rest of my life. I want to marry you and keep you safe. We will argue, but?—”
“No!” She pulled her hands free, heart thumping. “I-I can’t marry you.”
His frown was fierce now. “No? I know you care for me, I have seen it in your eyes. Our kisses?—”
“No.”
“Damn you, yes.” He grabbed her, pulling her close, and kissed her again. It was hard and wonderful, and she wanted desperately to hold him close.
“Put your hand on my chest,” he whispered against her lips. “I want to feel it there.”
She nearly complied. Nearly wept, but instead, she found the strength to pull away.
“I cannot marry you, Lord Talbot. I have my reasons, but as I have made my wishes clear to you, please do not approach me again. Good day.”
“No, damn you! You are lying to me. Why?”
She didn’t answer him, just walked from the room.
“Tilly?”
“See Lord Talbot out please, Mother,” she said, heading to the stairs. “I am going to my room, as I have a headache.”
She ran then, picking up her skirts and fleeing up the stairs to her room, where she shut the door and braced herself against it.
Ambrose had asked for her hand in marriage, and she had refused because she’d had to. There was no other choice. Pressing a hand to her chest, she felt like it was caving in on itself. The pain was strong. Her heart ached, and she was shaking now.
Stumbling to the bed, she fell face-first onto the soft coverlet.