Enough of these two vixens trying to draw her blood with their jealousy. “You can both—”
“Rest assured, ladies, I’m never coerced into doing anything I don’t want to.” In an intimate, comforting gesture, Jules laid his other hand atop Jemmah’s. “And you’re woefully incorrect if you presume there is any woman on earth I’d rather spend time with than my betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” sputtered Miss Milbourne and Miss Dament in horrified unison.
Each appeared to have swallowed wriggling spiders whole.
Jules quashed his laugh, but couldn’t contain the slow, satisfied upsweep of his mouth.
He bent his neck and murmured in Jemmah’s ear.
“I beg your pardon for announcing it this way.”
The Uncles stood slack-jawed and dazed, too.
Zounds, their expressions were priceless.
Jemmah dimpled and lifted a shoulder, whispering back, “I rather enjoyed the results.”
Jules did laugh then, a mirth-filled explosion from his middle, which drew the attention of two lads chasing a pug with a ball in its mouth.
God, he loved her unique perspective on things.
But so much for the romantic proposal he’d intended within the arched arbor facing yonder pond. Inside his coat pocket an emerald-cut, rare blue diamond, a shade darker than Jemmah’s eyes, lay nestled in its ivory velvet box.
He’d arranged a picnic luncheon complete with champagne in the quaint retreat. Damn his eyes, he’d even hired musicians to play in the background and a boatman to make sure the pond’s many swans paddled by in a timely fashion.
His precious Jem warranted such regal treatment.
“You can’t marry the duke, Jemmah.” The elder Miss Dament pointed a shaky finger at her sister, her voice wavering every bit as much as the wobbly digit extended toward her sister. “You must have Mama’s consent. And, she’ll never give it. Never.”
“Then I’ll wait until I’m of age. Or we’ll elope.” Jemmah’s quiet, confident reply sent her sister into high dudgeon.
Face puckered and turning the most spectacular shade of puce, Miss Adelinda fisted her hands and growled. Actually growled, before giving them her back and stomping across the green.
Perkins followed, but not before daring one last lewd appraisal of Jemmah.
He’d bamboozled Adelinda, the imprudent chit.
The club Perkins owned was nothing more than a low-end gaming hell and whorehouse. If the girl had taken up with the likes of him, she was thoroughly ruined. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be spreading her legs for his paying customers.
Jules couldn’t even buy her respectability now, which only made his case for winning Jemmah stronger. Mrs. Dament couldn’t count on her eldest daughter making a suitable match and directing funds her mother’s way.
He could, however, pay them a substantial sum to retire to the country.
Permanently.
If they agreed to never bother Jemmah again.
Yes, that was just what he’d do. As soon as he returned home. Mrs. Dament would have no choice but to agree now.
“Elope? Preposterous,” blustered Uncle Darius, finally finding his tongue, while Uncle Leopold waggled his head up and down like a marionette on a string.
“Utterly absurd. What would people say?” Leopold managed at last.
“Then I suggest you put your support behind Miss Dament and me, Uncles. And convince Mother to do the same. For I shall have no other, and all attempts to dissuade me will be met with swift recourse. Do I make myself clear?”
They nodded, albeit grudgingly. And then, mumbling something about needing to count cigars or some such rot, they departed, their tawny heads bent near. Every few steps, they tossed a befuddled and disgruntled glance at Jules.
He didn’t give a fig whether they approved or not.
He smiled down into Jemmah’s upturned, amazingly composed face. Lambasted thrice in ten minutes and here she stood, the epitome of grace and poise, beaming with love for him—for him!
His heart had chosen well.
Statue still, her countenance pale as the scalloped lace edging her fashionable spencer, Miss Milbourne peered around.
Blinking slowly, as if someone had whacked her upon the head with her frilly parasol, she murmured, “Excuse me. I see an acquaintance I must speak with.”
Head held high, she spun about and glided toward the pond, where nothing but a few ducks napped in the sun.
Taken to chatting with ducks, had she?
“Ho, what have we here?” Sutcliffe gave them a jaunty wave from across the green, and ambled their way accompanied by Pennington. Brow furrowed, he turned and watched Miss Milbourne’s progress.
Jules shook his head and rolled his eyes toward the greenery overhead.
“My God. Did someone extend invitations unbeknownst to me?”
“Invitations? Is there a special occasion I’m unaware of?” Sutcliffe’s attention veered to the departing uncles, Miss Milbourne, and lastly Jules. His grin threatened to split his face in two upon greeting Jemmah.
“Miss Dament.” He bent into an exaggerated courtier’s bow. “May I say how delighted I am to see you taking the air with Dandridge?”
“As am I.” Pennington clasped a hand to his waist and bent low, too.
Jemmah canted her head, and eyes sparkling, offered them a bright smile. “Thank you, your graces. You’re exuberance is... refreshing.”
“Is there any special reason you’re visiting the pleasure gardens today?” One hand on his hip, Sutcliffe, as subtle as a nubby toad on a pastry, attempted a nonchalant expression.
“I intended to propose, if you must know, you two interfering tabbies. But they,” Jules jabbed his thumb in the direction of his uncles’ and Miss Milbourne’s departing figures, “ruined the occasion.”
“By Jove, that’s the best news I’ve heard in ages!” Pennington pumped Jules hand while Sutcliffe bent over Jemmah’s. “Not that they ruined the occasion, but that you’ve at last declared yourself.”
“I wish you the greatest happiness, Miss Dament,” Sutcliffe said. “Now, we’ll take our leave and let our friend be about this most important business.”
Rubbing his thumb across the back of Jemmah’s hand, Jules remained silent as the pair strode away. Everything he’d planned to make the day romantic and memorable had been quashed.
“Jules?”
He met Jemmah’s slightly disconcerted eyes. “Yes, my dear?”
“Why is everyone staring in our direction?”
Jules raised his head and took a casual glance around.
She was right, though several people hastily looked away, finding either the sky or the ground profoundly fascinating.
Damn, the news of his intentions had travelled faster than the wind in sails, thanks to Jemmah’s bitter sister.
Hmm, perhaps not a bad thing at all. With a few dozen witnesses...
He withdrew the ring box from his pocket.
“Jules?” This time Jemmah’s voice went all soft and melty, as did her eyes. “Here?”
“Indeed.”
Raising the lid, he folded to one knee.
His valet would scold him soundly for getting grass stains on his pantaloons. But this was right in its simple, unpretentiousness.