“This is worse than the Cousin Bess scandal.” Mama waved a fan frantically in front of her face.

“Well he isn’t a vicar’s son at least,” put in Catherine.

Emma winced at the reddening of her mother’s cheeks. Now was not the time for jokes. Everyone had seen her in that pickle with Lord Radcliff. Every high-ranking, well-to-do member of society had come upon them tangled up and looking as though he had pounced upon her. The Cousin Bess scandal had tarnished them all but her sisters’ marriages was bringing them slowly out of the mist.

Now she had ruined it.

No, Lord Radcliff had ruined it. If he had not been jumping out of windows none of this would have happened.

She looked to Amelia, the oldest sister. Surely, she had something useful to say? Amelia gave a little shrug and turned her attention back to the cup of tea in her hand. Though they were in Cousin Ellie’s house, her mother’s cousin had politely given them some space in her parlor to discuss the matters. Having been practically dragged away from the assembly ball and shoved into a carriage, Emma was feeling rather like a captured animal with all eyes upon her.

“I didn’t do anything,” she said quietly, poking a finger between the lace holes on the sleeves of her dress, one-by one, as though that repetitive movement could distract her from the sickening feeling in her stomach.

Cousin Bess has chosen ruination, she had not. But Emma was aware what happened to girls who were caught in unfavorable circumstances with a man.

Marriage.

Emma tested the word in her mind. Marriage. Marriage to Lord Radcliff. She tried to picture it but could not. He had several good qualities. Handsome, well-liked, did not step on women’s toes when he danced with them, rich, of course, not to mention an earl.

However, she had an excellent example of his not-so-good behavior already. Sneaking out of windows was not something a good man did. He was surely slipping away from a lover.

“No one will even remember Cousin Bess after this.” Her mother shook her head. “Oh no, all shall be talking of Emma and the earl. Goodness, you poor dears.” She reached out for Julia who had remained quiet since they had all convened in the parlor. “It shall taint you and your husbands so.”

“Guy and I can survive plenty of scandal, Mama. He is a duke after all.” Julia grinned a little. She flicked a red curl from her face. “Everyone cannot wait to be my closest and dearest friend now. It is quite amusing really.”

Mama shook her head and her curls moved vigorously. Unlike Emma and her sisters, her mother was fair and a little on the plump side these days. Mama blamed their ruddy looks on some Irish heritage on their father’s side that no one could ever confirm. Emma was not as freckled as Amelia though she sometimes wondered if she’d prefer being totally covered instead of having odd random spots of freckles on the tops of her shoulders and thighs.

Amelia came to sit by Emma on the sofa. “What Julia is trying to say is that we will weather the scandal if we need to. The Chadwicks have weathered worse.”

Emma nodded slowly. It was true. After Cousin Bess had done her deed, the ton had fairly turned their back on them. None of them were overly fussed as they all had their own pursuits. Even Emma did at the time, though she did not have the same sort of passion for things as her sisters. She envied them that.

The scandal combined with their bluestocking nature kept them quite out of society for a while. Now that they were back in it, could Emma really ruin it all?

“It’s no good,” Mama declared. “You shall have to marry him.”

“Everyone will say I did it on purpose. That I set out to get myself ruined. He is one of the most eligible men in London after all,” Emma protested.

“What other choice do you have?” her mother asked. “You shall never marry after this and Catherine’s reputation will be harmed.”

“I hardly care about that, Mama.” Catherine leaned back against the wall and toyed with the bell pull next to her. “I have no intention of marrying and you know I find London a bore.”

“I did not mean for any of this to happen.” The words were weak and Emma knew it. It did not matter what she had meant to happen, only what had happened, and what had happened was the whole of the upper echelons of society had seen her in a compromised position. Gossip of the incident would be all around London by now.

“I shall have to send word to your father. Ask him about a dowry. He’s still in Lancashire I believe.” Mama pressed her fingers to either side of her head. “I can feel a headache coming on.”

“The earl will not want to marry me anyway,” Emma said, tone hopeful.

Amelia shook her head. “If Nicholas and Guy have anything to do with it, he will.”

Emma lowered her head into her hands. With both Amelia’s and Julia’s husbands on the warpath, the earl was sure to propose. “Oh, this is such a mess.”

“It is not,” Mama said firmly. “He will propose and you will marry, and once you are married to an earl, all this will be forgotten and Catherine can have a chance at marrying too.”

Catherine folded her arms. “I said I do not want to marry.”

Emma stared at the carpet. “Nor do I.” The words were like tiny baby birds fluttering against the storm. Powerless and easily blown away by the dismissive hand of her mother.

Her mother sniffed. “You gave yourself little choice when you decided to spend time with a man alone.”

Emma resisted the desire to roll her eyes. When in the country, the rules for her and her sisters were not so strict. Mostly because their mother had no hope of controlling them. Certainly, they should not be alone with men, but that did not mean it did not happen. Julia had confided that she and Guy had spent time alone together before they had married and, had they not, she might not have realized what a fine man he was.

Unfortunately, time alone with a man in Town was an entirely different matter. Once spotted, one could be ruined with ease. Being spied with a man who was atop her while her skirts were riding high was another thing altogether. She was ruined, there was no denying that.

But did she really have to marry? Being a spinster aunt was enough for her. So what if her dreams of the perfect man coming along were dashed? There was no such thing as the perfect man—at least not for her. Her recent exposure to much of what the opposite sex had to offer convinced her enough of that.

Emma glanced from sister to sister. None could give her the answer. “What would you do?” she asked Amelia. Her oldest sister must have an idea.

“It’s up to you, Emma.” Amelia squeezed her hand. “Do what you think is best.”

“Some answer that is,” Emma grumbled.

The ring of the doorbell quelled the room to utter silence. Emma’s heart thrummed in her chest and a sweat broke out instantly on her palms. She swung a look between her sisters and all had found something else interesting to look at. Catherine twiddled with a loose thread on her skirt. Julia had found an interesting book title to look at on the bookshelf. Amelia merely gave her hand a squeeze.

“Do what you think is best,” she repeated in a murmur. “You know we shall support you whatever it is you choose.”

When the door opened, Emma’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. She pressed a hand to it and sucked in a breath to quell the nausea. Just wonderful. The Earl of Radcliff was going to propose and she was going to throw up all over his boots.

All eyes were on the door as the servant stepped through. She gave a dip and an uncertain look crossed her face. “The Earl of Radcliff, ma’am, and um, a Mr. Bartholomew.”

Everything happened slowly. The tick of the mantelpiece clock rattled in Emma’s ears. Catherine shifted and her skirts rustled. Mama gave a light cough.

The maid stepped back and the air sucked from the room. The earl needed no announcement. The drawing room—an utterly feminine room, designed by her mother’s cousin—had become suddenly masculine. It did not matter that he was entirely outnumbered by women. He owned every inch of the space.

Emma’s mouth dried and she only realized her mouth was hanging open when his gaze landed briefly on her. She snapped it shut. There was no doubting it. Lord Radcliff was a handsome man. From his polished hessians to the breeches that clung perfectly to strong thighs. All the way up to a slightly bent nose and a jaw that could cut diamonds. The man exuded a special something—the perfect balance of charm, elegance, and male ruggedness.

Behind him, Mr. Bartholomew coughed. In comparison to many men, there was little that could be said about Mr. Bartholomew. His stature was nothing spectacular and his hair bordered on a shade between brown and fair. His nose was podgy and his eyes were slightly too far apart.

In comparison to the earl, however, he practically faded into the wallpaper.

“Mrs. Chadwick, how are you?” both men asked at the same time.

The words bounced around the room, stirring them all into action. Emma stood with such haste that she nearly lost her balance and Amelia had to put a hand to her back to steady her.

“Well indeed, my lord.” Mama’s voice came out in an odd squeak and she addressed only the earl. “Well indeed.” She gripped the shawl around her shoulders as thought it was the very object keeping her standing.

The earl took a step forward, coming slightly in front of Mr. Bartholomew. “I was wondering if I might have a word with Miss Emma.”

“I was wondering the same,” Mr. Bartholomew declared.

Her mother pressed her lips into a tight smile. “I see. Well, perhaps you might wait in the dining room with me, Mr. Bartholomew, while Lord Radcliff speaks with her, then perhaps you might have an audience after.”

Mr. Bartholomew’s cheeks reddened and he sent a sour look Lord Radcliff’s way. Emma could not fathom why Mr. Bartholomew was here.

“Come on, girls. Make haste.” Mama gave Catherine’s arm a none-to-gentle tug. She latched onto Mr. Bartholomew and fairly dragged him from the room.

“At least he’s handsome,” Catherine whispered with a wink as she walked past.

When Emma met the earl’s gaze, she noted his amused look. He must have heard what she said. She grimaced inwardly. Mama ushered all her sisters out but not before mouthing something at Emma. She was fairly certain it was ‘marry him.’

Lord Radcliff clasped his hands behind his back and waited until the door closed gently shut. “It has—”

“Lord Radcliff.” She bit on her lip. “Forgive me, what did you wish to say?”

He smiled. “You go first.”

“I-”

She dropped her gaze to the floor and huffed out a breath. When she had imagined receiving a proposal it had not been like this. Sometimes—on those long, lazy days where she had little to occupy her—she had laid back on the grass in the garden and imagined a handsome man dropping to one knee and professing words of love for her.

Emma straightened her shoulders. It might not be some romantic dream but she was not going to be a coward. This was a mess of her making too. She should have stayed in the assembly room where she belonged and then none of this would have happened.

She forced a careful smile. “I understand Guy and Nicholas paid you a visit.”

Lord Radcliff’s grin turned wry.

“They did.”

“Um.” Emma tried to picture Nicholas and Guy hurling threats at him. Lord Radcliff did not seem like the sort of man frightened by a few threats and Guy was the earl’s closest friend according to Julia, but the men were naturally protective of all the sisters.

“Say it, Emma.”

Her gaze shot to his. The use of her name, combined with his sharp command startled her. “Say it?”

“Whatever it is you are dancing around.”

“Did they force your hand?” she spilled out.

He gave a chuckle. “Your brothers-in-law can be intimidating when they wish to be, but it takes more than two glowering men to force me to do anything.”

“So you are, um, going to, um...”

“Request your hand in marriage?”

“How can you be so blasé?”

After all they were talking about marriage. A lifetime commitment. It was not as though he was merely asking for a dance.

He lifted a shoulder. “Through no fault of our own, we have ended up in this situation. There is only one way to fix this and while I might not always be the most honorable of men, I have little intention of hurting your family.”

“A little bit of it was your fault,” she muttered.

“I never had any intention of landing on you, Miss Chadwick.”

His eyes were crinkled in amusement. It made her feel hot, and not in a pleasant way. They were talking of spending the rest of their lives together—two complete strangers—and he kept smiling and laughing.

She folded her arms and scowled. “What sort of a man tries to leap from a window anyway?”

“It seemed an excellent idea at the time.”

“Perhaps you should think twice next time.”

He pressed a hand over his heart. “I vow I will. I have learned my lesson, I promise.”

Too late for her, though. She skimmed her gaze over him. It could have been worse. As Catherine said, he was handsome. Everyone she met liked him. She did not know him well enough to understand why but if everyone else liked him, why would she not?

“So...” She wished he would stop looking at her with amusement. That smile slightly tugged up to one side, his dark eyes twinkling away. Did the man take nothing seriously?

“So,” he mimicked.

Emma blew out a breath of frustration. “Are you going to ask or not?”

His grin grew. “I suppose I better had. Especially considering your sisters’ ears are likely hurting with being pressed to the door.”

The sound of a scuffle and someone scolding someone else came from the hallway. Emma rolled her eyes. Did they really have to listen to this whole humiliating episode?

Arms still folded, she waited and even added in a tapping foot for good measure. He might be eager to play a game but she was not.

“Guy warned me the Chadwick women have little patience. I see he was right.”

She glared at him.

“Very well then. Miss Emma Chadwick...” He shrugged to himself. “I have no flowery words. I shall confess I did not think this through very well.”

“What are you saying? Are you saying you do not wish to marry me?”

The tight noose that had circled her throat since the previous night loosened. If he decided he did not wish to, then she had no choice. And she rather liked that idea. Yes, she would be ruined but through no fault of her own, and did Catherine not say she had no interest in marrying? Besides, her titled brothers-in-law would not suffer. Titled men never did.

“No. No. I have every intention. I just did not think quite how to put it.”

The noose tightened once more. If he offered, she could not say no, could she?

“Perhaps if you just say it very quickly,” she suggested.

“Yes. Of course.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Miss Emma Chadwick. Will you marry me?”

No. She could say it. No one was here to force her to say anything else. No. It was easy. One simple little word. One syllable.

“Yes.”

The word shot from between her lips. She nearly clapped a hand across her mouth, such was her surprise at the response.

A flash of relief mingled with a little tension around his lips, crossed his face. “Excellent.” He took a step closer. “Shall we...?”

“Shall we what?”

“Seal the deal with a kiss?”

“Um.” Was this what ruined women did when men offered to save them? She had little idea. But if he was to be her husband, she would have to kiss him. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

“I hope it will be a little more than acceptable.”

She had no time to puzzle over those words. He took her arms in his hands and angled his head. Emma closed her eyes instinctively and held her breath. The first touch of his lips sent tingles racing down to the ends of her fingertips. The second touch made her knees feel as though they had vanished and she was not entirely sure how she was still standing. Lord Radcliff came in for one more touch, settling his lips with more intent over hers. He pressed firmly and a guttural sound of appreciation came from him.

“You can open your eyes now.”

She snapped them open, aware of heat traversing every corner of her body. Who knew kisses could be like that? She touched a finger to her lips. “I—”

“Definitely more than acceptable.” His wicked grin sent a shiver through her.

Perhaps she really could make this marriage work. Especially if there were more kisses like that.