carriage, the driver left me to go and find help, and Lord Glenbrook happened by,” Tilly said.
“Later we shall discuss your harebrained decision to return to London alone,” her mother said through her teeth. She always did that, as if she thought no one else could hear her when she spoke that way except the person she was specifically addressing—whom more often than not was Tilly. It was irritating to say the least. Not to mention embarrassing to be chastised in front of Sullivan and his mother.
“It would seem that someone saw the two of you exiting a room at an inn. Together. From the same room,” her father said.
“Someone of note,” her mother added.
Her father cut his eyes to her mother, but it only made her mother nod indignantly.
“Oh dear,” Sullivan’s mother said. “Then your reputation must be in ruins, Matilda.”
Tilly dared a glance at Sullivan who’s penetrating brown gaze was locked on her. She sat up straighter and tilted her chin up ever so slightly.
“Sullivan will do the honorable thing by you, my dear,” his mother said and reached over to pat her son’s knee.
“Yes, of course, I will,” Sullivan agreed.
What?
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother argued. “No one here is assuming that Lord Glenbrook took advantage of the situation. Matilda is a spinster and more than likely the gossip will die down after she spends some time in the countryside. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.”
“Mama!” Tilly said. She looked to her parents. Her father’s eyes were closed and his fingers pinched at the bridge of his nose, whereas her mother frowned at her.
“Honestly, Tilly, you are three and twenty and have no suitors to speak of, unless you have something you wish to tell us. We thought the higher dowry your father offered on your behalf would help secure you a husband, but it would seem it is not enough to overlook your peculiarness.”
Humiliation ate at her insides. She hated that her mother just announced her higher dowry in front of Sullivan, though he probably already knew. Likely all of London knew how Lord Lowell had to increase the amount of dowry on his youngest daughter because no one wanted to marry her.
“Peculiarness…that is not even a word, Mama,” she said.
Her mother threw her hands up in exasperation.
“Ladies, there is no reason to argue. I take full responsibility for what happened,” Sullivan said. “I shall secure a special license and Tilly and I will marry as soon as possible.” He came to his feet as if that settled everything. “Come along, Mother, it would seem you have a wedding ball to plan.”
His mother clapped her hands gleefully and stood. She immediately came over to Tilly and grabbed her for a hug. It was shocking, but also so full of maternal comfort that tears sprang to Tilly’s eyes. Which was ridiculous. “Welcome to the family, dear.” Thankfully, the woman released her and went over to speak to Tilly’s parents.
Sullivan stopped next to Tilly and glanced at her.
He reached down and engulfed her hand inside of his own. Warmth spread through her entire body. Despite the gentleness of his touch, there was something in his gaze she didn’t understand. Something dark and intense. Something that made her flush with… Well, with what must be anger or indignation. Or perhaps it was more indigestion.
With a healthy dose of embarrassment to go alongside it. Because why was everyone acting as though marrying her was a tremendous sacrifice on his part?
It wasn’t as if he had some other woman he’d been courting. Even though she wasn’t a great beauty, like Melanie, she was not hideously unattractive. Even though she was a tad… well, peculiar, to use her mother’s word…she was still a respectable lady, from a respected family, with a sizable dowry. Frankly, Sullivan could do worse.
Not that she wanted to marry him, but nor did she want to feel like he was a martyr for offering.
“We shall make the most of this.” He squeezed her hand, and then nodded once as if everything had been settled.
As soon as he released her hand, she bolted to her feet. “Perhaps I do not wish to marry you,” she said tartly.
Both her mother and his gasped at her words.
She could practically hear their thoughts, in addition to seeing their accusations in their eyes. What was the matter with her? Why did she insist on being so rude to him? Why was she—again—being so peculiar?
When he—sainted, martyred Sullivan—was offering to save her?
Well,