A Lady of Persuasion (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #3)

The musicians struck up a new melody, but no one in the room was dancing. All eyes were on their little tableau.

“In a moment,” Toby said smoothly, enjoying the upper hand. He refused to let Grayson cow him. The man might be a dockside laborer in gentleman’s clothing, but Toby was taller. “I’m still waiting on a word from Miss Grayson. I’ve asked her a question, and she hasn’t yet answered.”

He turned back to Isabel, tripping straight into her solemn, remarkable eyes. A strange sense of destiny overcame him. In his gut, Toby knew that the events of the next minute could very well mean the rearrangement of his life, his face, or both. He had a choice. He could release her, from his embrace and his question, surrender a second lady to this thieving bastard, and continue the miserable pastime of searching for his misplaced self-worth at the bottom of brandy decanters.

Or he could hold on to this beautiful, intelligent, passionate woman. Perhaps forever.

Grayson scowled. “Bel, what the devil is he talking about? You don’t have to answer this man anything.” He lowered his voice to a gruff whisper. “Do you want me to hit him?”

“No!” she gasped, her gaze flitting around the assembled crowd. “No, nothing of the sort. Sir Toby just asked me—”

“To marry him,” Toby interrupted. Loudly and clearly, with a certainty that surprised even him. An excited murmur swept the crowd.

Leveling a cool gaze at Grayson, he continued, “I’ve asked your sister to marry me. And now I’m waiting …” He glanced over his shoulder. “It would seem we’re all waiting … to hear her reply.”

The excited murmur dissolved into silence. Grayson’s face turned a satisfying shade of ash. And suddenly, Toby was having the time of his life. He’d stolen Isabel straight from the scoundrel’s arms, and he was not going to give her back. Not without a fight. He released Isabel’s waist and took her soft, delicate hand in both of his. “Was it public notice you wanted? All eyes are on you now, my dear,” he said, grinning. “And I must confess, I’ve always wanted to do this.”

She stared at him, mute with shock, as he sank to one knee.

“Miss Isabel Grayson.” His voice echoed off the marble tile. “Would you do me the inestimable honor of becoming my wife?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“I’m engaged.” Bel joined her brother and sister-in-law at the breakfast table the next morning.

“Can you believe it?”

“No,” Gray said tersely, his face hidden behind a newspaper. “I can’t.”

To be honest, neither could Bel. She’d passed a fitful night, plucking at the lace-edged coverlet and reliving the evening’s events again and again in her mind—each time hoping for a different conclusion. By dawn, she’d nearly convinced herself the entire episode was simply a strange, vivid dream. But judging by her brother’s ill-humor this morning, it would seem to have been real.

“I’m engaged,” she said again. If she said it enough times, she might begin to believe it. Gray cleared his throat. “For God’s sake, Bel, you’re not—” He stopped himself and appeared to consider before beginning again, more softly this time. “Your … engagement” —he ground out the word—“is still a matter of discussion.”

“What your brother means to say, is that it happened so quickly,” Sophia said. “It’s taken us all by surprise.”

It had taken no one by surprise more than Bel. She couldn’t even recall her thoughts at the moment when her traitorous lips had formed the word “yes.” Obviously, there had been no thoughts in her head at all. Only the sight of Sir Toby’s devilish grin, and the warmth of his hands grasping hers, and the sound of a hundred pairs of lungs seizing in anticipation of her very next word.

And—God help her—some emotion akin to enjoyment.

Madness, that’s what her acceptance had been. A moment of sheer insanity. Not that she could let anyone suspect it now. No, the only thing worse than impetuously accepting a proposal at her first ball would be callously breaking it the next day. She would appear fickle, immature, prone to wild vacillations of emotion: everything a lady of influence was not. The decision had been made in a moment of madness, but as Sir Toby himself had pointed out, a marriage to him could still further her goals. So long as, from this point forward, she behaved with restraint and acted as though it were all part of her plan.

“Yes,” Bel replied. “It did happen quickly, and I’m glad of it.” She nibbled at a point of toast.

“But why did we have to leave the ball so early? People wanted to congratulate us.”

“There’s nothing to congratulate, not yet.” Gray attacked a slab of ham with knife and fork. “I haven’t given my consent.”

Bel stared at him. “You don’t mean to withhold it? You promised I might marry whomever I choose.”

“I should know better than to make promises,” her brother grumbled around a bite of ham.