“Count Armediano. The first time I met him, I thought he was a trustworthy sort. I sensed something of a kinship there.”
She frowned. “But then you found out he was at Miss Henrietta’s right before the explosion.”
“I hated him before that, darling.” He filled his palms with her rump, enjoying the pliant curves of abundant flesh. “I hated him the moment he touched ye.”
She turned her head so he wouldn’t see her shy but pleased smile, but there was no hiding from him. “I’m glad you’re no longer my enemy. I wanted very much for you to like me from the start.”
“I do like ye.” He touched his nose to hers, learning the language of affection. “It’s impossible not to. Ye have a way that captures everyone’s heart.”
“Not everyone,” she grieved, burying her face in his neck.
Ramsay rubbed his hands across the impossibly smooth skin of her back and locked his arms around her, wondering if he’d ever bring himself to let go.
“You know,” she sighed, “when I was little … I used to dream about this.”
“About what?” he murmured, thinking he might be lulled off to sleep by a goddess.
“I confess I was a lonely little girl before the Rogues came into my life. And I would sometimes think about how lovely it would be for someone to hold me like this. To shelter me. To accept me and care for me. Care about me.”
Ramsay ached for that lonely little girl. If only they’d always been able to keep each other’s loneliness at bay. “I meant what I said. I would care for ye for the rest of our lives.” He held his breath as she stilled, and considered not letting her up when she struggled onto her hands to look down at him again.
“You’re not proposing, Lord Chief Justice?” Her eyes sparkled at him as she regarded him with mock distress. “After everything we’ve said against it?”
He remained stone-cold sober, staring up at her with all the earnestness in the world. “Aye, I’d make ye my wife, Cecelia. I’d not have taken ye to bed otherwise.”
“I know that about you,” she said ruefully. “You’re nothing if not honorable. Though…” She made a great show of looking about their surroundings. “I wouldn’t say you’ve taken me to bed, exactly. More … to nest.” She let out a little laugh, stretching and arching up in a way that lifted her breasts.
Ramsay would have buried his face between them if one thing didn’t trouble him mightily. “Ye havena answered,” he prodded. “Would ye consider being my wife?”
She sobered as well. Leaning back, she dismounted him in a fashion that gave him the most erotic view of his life. Sitting next to him, she dragged a blanket to cover her more diverting bits.
“I worry for our future, don’t you?” She caught her cheek in her teeth in that way she did when she was puzzling over a conundrum. Lord, he wondered how she had any cheek left.
“Ye needn’t worry,” he reassured her. “I ken I’ve been insufferable, but we’ve proven we make better allies than enemies. That we can trust each other. Everything is different now.”
“Is it?” she fretted. “How will you explain taking the Scarlet Lady as your consort? Won’t that make things indescribably difficult for you? Are you willing to give up all you’ve achieved to tie your tidy life to my chaotic one?”
Touched by her concern, he reached out and tucked a silken ringlet behind her ear before lifting her chin with the crook of his finger. “Ye needn’t worry,” he soothed. “It’s no widely known ye’re the Scarlet Lady. Once we indict the criminals responsible for yer troubles, we’ll marry and I’ll adopt Phoebe right away. We’ll dismantle Miss Henrietta’s and sell the property under any number of business holdings I own. No one need trace it back to ye—”
She pulled out of his reach, her face a mask of denial. “I don’t want to sell Miss Henrietta’s.”
“Why wouldn’t ye?” He shook his head at her.
“Because it’s necessary. So many women depend on it,” she insisted gently. “I intend to rebuild Miss Henrietta’s as soon as possible with the help and patronage of Alexandra and others like her. I want Genny and whichever girls still work there to remain, and I intend to expand the school.”
He sat up, his heart pounding. “Ye canna be serious.”
“I’m perfectly serious,” she said earnestly. “I’ve been looking for my path for so long, Ramsay, and I believe I’ve found it. These women, they rely upon me for their incomes. Alexander, Frank, and I have been all over the world, and the one thing I’ve noticed is that when women are educated and able to work, not only are their lives made better but so are those of their children and their communities. I want to be part of that in my home country. I feel very passionate about this.”
“And that is commendable,” Ramsay said carefully, meaning it with every part of himself. “But surely ye can do it in some other way then a gambling hell.”
“Perhaps, but I’m very good with numbers. I could make a go of it.” She thrust her chin forward in a stubborn fashion. “Ever since Henrietta’s was attacked, I’ve become more determined than ever to see it rise from the ashes for the betterment of all.”
“Where does that leave us, then?” he demanded. “Because ye were right to worry, I canna remain Lord Chief Justice and marry an infamous game maker. Do ye have any idea what people get up to in yer establishment? Ye’ve not even opened yet.” His blood began to rise in concert with his fear. Was this falling apart before it had a chance to be knitted together?
“I have some idea, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not asking you to marry me,” she replied with determined patience. “Perhaps we could make a less … conventional arrangement?”
His frown darkened. “I’d not turn ye into my whore.”
“Mistress, then,” she offered with a teasing waggle of her eyebrows.
“Semantics,” he growled.
“Not semantics. You wouldn’t pay me, obviously. We’ve each our own fortunes. We could just … be together.”
“Nay,” he said. “It’s impossible.” He had to have her. To possess and protect her. How could she not understand that?
A sober frown wrinkled her forehead. “But only moments ago, you said you would shoot the moon if I asked it of you. That you could stay here with me forever.”
“Aye, then let us stay here.” He seized her shoulders, desperately needing her to understand. “Let us work the earth if we must. Or do nothing at all. I’m wealthy enough to retire. Let us do anything where we are not considered lower than the sewer rats in the eyes of London society.”
Cecelia put her hands over his and brought one to her lips. “I love it here. But I cannot stay. I am resolved. I would share my life with you, if you are brave enough to share my chosen future with me.” She gestured to the air between them. The space that seemed to be growing into a chasm by the second.
“Ye have to understand what ye’re asking,” Ramsay said. “Ye’re expecting me to give up not only my hard-won position, but my reputation. My very reason for existence.”