CHAPTER FOUR
“DO TELL US more about your plans, Mr. Drummond,” Mother said, gazing at Preston as if he was the answer to her prayers. Which no doubt he was. “I’m certain we would all find them most fascinating.”
In truth, no one at the table except Mother seemed to find anything Preston said even remotely fascinating, even if her three older daughters—Cora, Rose and Livy—had adopted rapt expressions of interest. Although it did seem there was a fine line between rapt and glazed. Good. Dulcie would need all the support she could gather once she told Preston, and then Mother, she would prefer he not call on her again.
“Are you certain, Lady Middleworth?” Preston said in a mildly flirtatious, teasing manner. The sort of manner one might employ if trying to convince a woman you were the right man for her daughter. “I should hate to be a bore.”
Judging by the impassive expression Father usually adopted when he was bored and the total concentration on the food in front of them by her three brothers-in-law, that possibility was no longer in question.
“Don’t be absurd, Mr. Drummond.” Mother waved off his objection. “I can’t imagine anything more interesting than your plans for the future.” Mother shot a pointed look at Dulcie. “Don’t you agree, dear?”
Any number of answers flashed through Dulcie’s head, none of which even remotely approximated what her mother expected to hear. Nonetheless, Dulcie affixed her brightest smile. “I do indeed, Mother.”
Still, there must have been something in her tone. Mother’s eyes narrowed slightly, Father choked and Rose’s husband coughed, although it sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh, earning him a stern look from his wife.
“As you wish then.” Preston smiled at her in a satisfied and rather possessive manner, as if he were already her husband. Regardless of what Mother or her sisters thought, even if it meant Dulcie would never wed, she had to put an end to this.
Dinner did seem to drag on endlessly but at last came to a merciful close. The ladies stood to take their leave and allow the gentlemen to their brandy.
“Dulcie.” Preston cleared his throat. “Might I have a word with you? Privately?”
Mother beamed. Father looked resigned.
His intentions were obvious. Damnation. Dulcie thought she had forestalled a proposal tonight by deflecting any hint of the subject during their ride home. Preston must have spoken to Father while she was changing for dinner. Well, it couldn’t be helped and it was probably for the best simply to get it over with.
“Of course, Preston.” She cast him a brilliant smile. “Shall we adjourn to the parlor?”
“Excellent.” He smiled with complete and utter confidence. One might almost feel sorry for him.
A few minutes later, Dulcie perched on the edge of the sofa in the main parlor, hands folded demurely in her lap, a pleasant smile on her lips although she suspected this was going to be anything but pleasant. Preston stood by the mantel, the very picture of unquestioned self-assurance. One would think a man about to propose marriage would be at least a little nervous.
“Dulcie, I—” Preston began.
“Preston.” She held out her hand to stop him. It wasn’t at all fair to let him go on. “I really would prefer—”
“I think we should marry,” Preston said in a firm tone.
She stared at him. “Is that a proposal?”
He frowned. “Yes, of course it is.”
“It sounded more like a declaration.” As if there were no need to actually ask. As if he simply assumed the answer. Preston was making this so much easier for her than she had expected.
“Yes, I suppose it does.” He chuckled. “Well, Dulcie, what do you say?”
“I say if you wish me to marry you, the proper thing to do would be to actually ask rather than assume.”
“Very well then.” He sighed in the manner one does when dealing with a petulant child. “Dulcie, would you do me the very great honor—”
“No.”
“No?” His brows drew together. “What do you mean no? I haven’t asked you anything yet.”
“I thought I would save you any embarrassment you might feel at being turned down by saying no before you actually asked the question.”
He stared at her in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you do, Preston.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s really quite simple. You wish to marry me but I do not wish to marry you.”
“Come now.” He scoffed. “Of course you do. I am eminently eligible. My family is well respected, my fortune is more than adequate and any number of women find me most attractive. I am considered quite a catch.”
“And indeed you are. Why, anyone can see that. However—” she shrugged “—you are not the catch for me.”
“Why on earth not?” His frown deepened with indignation. “We are quite suitably matched. Your mother likes me.”
Not a point in his favor.
“And your father has given me his permission.”
She would have to have a word with Father about that.
“I should think you’d be grateful.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Grateful?”
“Without question. While you’re quite pretty, you do have a shocking tendency to say whatever is on your mind without regard to how it might sound.” He shook his head. “I know your mother finds it distressing, as do I. However, I am certain, once you are wed to a husband who will not tolerate such nonsense, you can overcome that particular flaw in your character. In addition, you have an unbecoming bent toward independence. Proper ladies paint only for their own edification and not for commercial purposes. I cannot believe your father allows such a thing. I would not.”
Was Preston really this much of an idiot? Did he truly not realize he was not helping his case?
“Aside from everything else, there is the matter of your age.”
Apparently not. “My age?”
“You have past your twenty-third year and are no longer in the first blush of youth.” He shook his head in a chastising manner. “Potential matches at your age are few and far between. Coupled with your other flaws, I might very well be your last opportunity.”
She widened your eyes in feigned dismay. “Do you really think so?”
He shrugged.
“Goodness, Preston, with all my flaws, I don’t understand why you are willing to marry me.”
“I think you have
