“You will have privacy here.” She turned her head with a bit of annoyance. “You are both entitled to privacy, despite what the other houseguests think.”
“I am sorry, madam, to have caused such disruption to your gathering.”
“You have turned it into the social event of the year. But it is not my guests I worry about.” Lady Darlington’s children were grown up and launched, but the mother inside her was still in plain evidence. “Poor Miss Barrett,” she said, shaking her head.
He tried not to take offense, and she quickly remembered herself, flushing pink in the cheeks. “Of course I do not mean— Your Grace—”
“Of course not.”
“She is only so confused. I fear for her. Honestly, I do.”
“You needn’t fear for her any longer.”
She pondered the intent of his words and smiled. “Yes, of course. She will no longer be a woman alone, dependent on an absent father and that gadabout brother of hers. Just know that Miss Barrett will not come to you prepared to accept a marriage proposal. She does not seem to understand the gravity of her situation.”
“I will handle it,” he said with strained patience, “if you will kindly deliver her here.”
“Certainly, Your Grace.”
His hostess left, leaving Court to await the appearance of his future bride. Miss Chaos, the rampant new force in his life. He moved across the prettily decorated room to gaze from an oversize window. Such a bright, clear morning. Really, the weather thus far had been beyond reproach.
He hoped Miss Barrett had not spent a restless night. He had slept the sleep of the dead, the sleep of a man with no avenues left but the one he’d embarked on and thus must follow without question or thought. He would propose to her, she would accept, they would marry and have children, and that would be his life. It was not so very bad.
“Your Grace?”
He turned to find her hovering at the door. She was in pale pink, her hands clutched in a ball before her.
He bowed in greeting. “Miss Barrett, please come in and sit down.”
She hesitated for a moment but then obeyed, perching on the edge of an overstuffed divan. She did not look particularly well, but she wasn’t sobbing either. He walked closer, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Miss Barrett—”
“Your Grace, please, I—”
“If you do not mind,” he interrupted, “I would prefer to speak first.”
She swallowed hard and clamped her lips shut, her hands squeezing and fidgeting in her lap. Even agitated as she was, she looked lovely and fresh, her blonde hair coiffed to doll-like perfection.
“Miss Barrett, I am not a particularly sentimental man,” he began, “but I find you have touched me in some way that is rather…unexplainable. I have developed a great fondness for your unique and amiable nature.”
“Your Grace—”
Again he held up a hand. “Kindly allow me to finish. I confess I have become so taken by your charms that I have asked your brother for the honor of your hand, that I might make you my wife.”
He was rather proud of the way his speech had turned out. He believed he sounded quite sincere in his proposal, but she was on her feet, shaking her head until her curls trembled.
“No, please,” she said. “This is absurd.”
“I promise you, it is not absurd. I have come to feel a deep regard for you. You have brought a light to my life that is…quite…unmatched by any other light.”
“No more of these preposterous endearments,” she cried. “None of what you’re saying is true. All of this, because we rode to Newcastle together? Has the entire world gone mad?”
He wished this was not so difficult for her. His own temper had cooled, his practical side demanding that he make peace with this match. Of course, she had no such practical side—or if she did, he had not yet seen it. Court stepped closer, reached out and touched, very softly, the downy curve of her cheek. “I have besmirched your reputation, and things must be put right.”
She shied away from him. “I told you, I do not care for my reputation. You cannot mean to marry me.”
“It would be most disrespectful to you if I did not.”
“But—”
“There is nothing to discuss. I only await your acceptance of my suit. We will be wed in London, as soon as can be done, in a large and respectable ceremony.” He reached for her, troubled by the way she backed away from him.
“But…if you will only wait and…and let me speak to my father…”
“I will not bend on this, I’m afraid. Nor would he. Perhaps you’ve no care for your reputation, but I am the Duke of Courtland and I do have a care for mine. I will not be seen as a less than honorable man.”
At that, Miss Barrett burst into tears. Court reached into the pocket of his coat for yet another handkerchief and offered it to her, but she did not take it. She collapsed back into the divan, hiding her face against its padded arm and weeping with alarming vigor.
“Come now,” he said, kneeling beside her. “Are you so distressed at the idea of marrying me? Here, look at me.” He touched her chin, made her raise her head up.
She gazed at him through tears. “Please. This cannot be. It is so ridiculous.”
“And what if it is?” He stroked her brow, her little thought lines. “You told me once you did not believe I was a cold man. Have you come to think otherwise? Why this hysterical display?”
“I did not think it would come to this. I did not. I made this terrible mistake, and now you are forced to pay for it for the rest of your life.” She bawled some more, wetting the arm of Lady Darlington’s divan until he finally managed to press the handkerchief upon her. “Your Grace, I am so mortified. I’m so sorry to have caused this disaster for you.”
Two days ago, a week ago, he would have agreed they were barreling toward disaster, but somewhere along the way his feelings toward her had softened. He thought it odd, but in the end he was not one to question things he could not change. He tried to catch her gaze, to reassure her. “It is not a disaster. We will make the best of things.”
She waved his handkerchief about in agitation. “How shall we do that? I never meant to entrap you. Somehow I never imagined…” She threw up her hands. “I never imagined anyone would force such an uneven match.”
“You believed you would be allowed to creep off to the country in disgrace?”
“Yes!”
“While I went about my life without a thought to your lost virtue?” He frowned at her. “You must think me a scoundrel.”
“Not a scoundrel, but a great personage above me. A duke!”
“The fact that I am a duke does not signify. All gentlemen and ladies must follow proprieties.”
“That’s what Lady Darlington said.” Miss Barrett released another barrage of tears.
He eased onto the divan beside her with a sigh. “It is very provoking to have a proposal of marriage reacted to in such a way. My feelings are bruised.”
“I’m sorry!” she wailed.
“Miss Barrett, let there be no more apologies between us. May I hold your hand?”
She sniffled and nodded after a moment, but kept her eyes fixed on her lap. He wished to calm her, to see her smile again as she had the day before at the Roman wall. He first removed her glove, then his. He took her delicate hand and trapped it in his own. “You see, what is done is done. We cannot go back now and change things,” he said, leaning his head to hers. “Allow me to fix this muddle we’ve created. Please agree to become my wife.”
“But you could not want me,” she whispered back. “I will be a tedious wife to a man like you.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“What about your…mistresses?”
Bloody hell. “I have no mistresses. Not even one. You have been misinformed.”
“But… But… The women, they said…”
“None of these are things with which you must concern yourself.”
&nb
sp; “Oh.” She turned her face against his shoulder. He felt frustration, disgust at himself that he’d made such a muck of his reputation. Curse him for his courtesans and parlors and whores. The only reason he could deny he had a mistress was because a mistress would have displeased Gwendolyn, the one-time love of his life.