Gillian waited until after her uncle left, then looked cautiously at the earl. “Am I?”

He stepped forward and took her hand. “Are you what?”

“Your dear?”

Weston stilled and held her green-eyed gaze with his own. “Your uncle has given me permission to pay you my addresses. I would not offer for a woman unless she was very dear to me indeed.”

“Oh.” Gillian tipped her head to one side and wondered that she didn’t float away with this feeling of happiness. “Very well. I accept.”

She smiled to herself over the fleeting look of surprise on his face. She had a feeling it wasn’t easy to disconcert the earl, and she relished this experience. A little giddy, she watched as he made a bow, kissed her hand, and matter-of-factly informed her that unless she had objections, they would be married immediately. He had secured a special license and suggested two days hence as their wedding day.

“I have no objections at all, my lord; your plan is quite agreeable.”

Weston stared at her, surprised by her quick acquiescence. It was his experience that even the most eager of brides demanded declarations of love or assurances of undying devotion before they accepted a man. “Do you have any questions? Concerns? Comments?”

This last was said with an emphasis Gillian couldn’t help but notice. She gave in to a smile and shook her head. “No, none at all. Do you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No, I believe my questions have all been answered. Gillian—” He stepped forward and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. Gillian held her breath as the featherlight touch raised goose bumps on her arms. “You are easy in your mind about this match? I would not have you fear me. Despite what you may have heard, I am not a cruel man, nor am I given to mistreating anyone who depends upon me.”

While he spoke, he pulled her into an easy embrace. Gillian had to remind herself to breathe as the spicy essence that was the Lord of Miracles curled up and around her. She met his unblinking gaze with a steady look that she fervently hoped belied her racing heart and shaking knees. “I am quite easy in my mind, my lord. I believe we will suit very well indeed. You seem slightly concerned about my reaction, however. Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, Gillian, I am not. As we are now betrothed, do you think you could use my Christian name?”

“Certainly, my lord. What is it?”

“It’s Noble.”

Gillian smiled. “I am sure it is. Your parents would hardly bestow an unsuitable name on their firstborn son. What is your name?”

Weston closed his eyes briefly. “My name is Noble.”

“Yes, I know.” Gillian nodded encouragingly. “And it is…?”

“Noble,” he ground out, cursing his mother’s whimsy and his father’s lack of foresight. “My name is Noble.”

Another smile lit Gillian’s face. “Oh, your name is Noble. How interesting. Is there a story behind it?”