“I can see that,” the squire’s wife said, her tone gloating.
Arden fixed her with a quelling glance. “You will do me the courtesy of keeping this unfortunate incident to yourself, Mrs. Goodey. Miss Loring has consented to be my wife, and I don’t wish my duchess’s reputation to suffer. You understand, of course.”
His startling pronouncement had the desired effect: The matron’s jaw dropped in astonishment.
Even realizing his purpose-to shut up the nosy woman by giving her a more juicy tidbit to chew on-Roslyn froze in dismay and only just managed to keep her own jaw from dropping.
She certainly was in no position to deny the betrothal, however, so she merely forced a smile to her lips. “I admit I was quite surprised by his grace’s offer myself,” Roslyn murmured. “You are the first to hear of our betrothal, Mrs. Goodey. But perhaps you will be kind enough to keep the news secret until I have had the opportunity to inform my family and close friends.”
The squire answered for her. “Of course, Miss Loring. My wife won’t mention a word of any of this, will you, dear? We wouldn’t want your little mishap to be misconstrued.”
His wife looked a little indignant and mulish, but the squire ignored her. “Pray, how may we be of service, your grace?”
Arden offered him a bland smile. “Now that the storm has passed, I would like to take Miss Loring home, so a loan of a vehicle would be welcome. And I must arrange proper care for my horses-they’re stabled in the shed-and have a wainwright fetched to repair the wheel.”
“Leave everything to me, your grace.” The squire bowed deeply. “I will take the Missus home and send our carriage back to you, to use at your leisure. And my servants will see to your curricle wheel and horses.”
“Thank you, Goodey,” the duke replied. “I will be greatly indebted.”
“Think nothing of it, your grace.” He took his wife’s plump elbow. “Come, dear, we must give this betrothed couple some privacy,” the squire insisted, before ushering the sputtering lady out of the cottage and firmly shutting the door behind him.
Chapter Twelve
My dearest Fanny, disaster has struck and I fear it is very much my own fault! I am now betrothed to the Duke of Arden.
– Roslyn to Fanny
Roslyn stared speechlessly at Arden, wondering frantically how they could escape this wretched catastrophe.
To her surprise, he didn’t seem nearly as dismayed as she was. Indeed, his expression seemed almost nonchalant as he crossed to where her clothing hung. His tone was just as bland when he declared, “We need to dress. The Goodey carriage will be returning for us shortly.”
“That is all you have to say?” she demanded in disbelief. “We are facing utter calamity and all you care about is getting dressed?”
He lifted an amused eyebrow at her. “Would you rather remain half naked?”
“No, of course not-”
“Then put on your clothes, love. This is hardly the calamity you think it,” he added as he retrieved her still-damp corset and held it out to her. When Roslyn made no move to take the undergarment, he tugged the quilt from around her shoulders. “Don’t be so missish,” he ordered, tossing the quilt on the chair. “We are betrothed now.”
“We are not betrothed. You only said that to blunt the disgrace of our being discovered together.”
“No, I said it because I have every intention of wedding you. Now turn around so I can hook you up.”
“I can dress myself!”
He wasn’t listening, however. His hands clasping her upper arms, he spun her so tha
t her back faced him. Roslyn had no desire to don the cold, clammy corset, yet she could hardly leave her lingerie there in the cottage or carry it with her, so she raised her arms and allowed Arden to slide the garment around her torso. She shivered when moisture seeped through her thin chemise, and squirmed when he fitted the bustle beneath her breasts.
“Hold still.”
Although gritting her teeth, she dutifully stood as he fastened the hooks, but when she felt his lips caress the bare curve of her shoulder, she whirled and glared at him mutinously. “Will you please leave off your lechery long enough to discuss this predicament seriously?”
“What is there to discuss?”
“Our betrothal, what else! You are purposefully being obtuse.”
“No, I fully comprehend your problem. You do also, or you would have refuted my announcement in front of our unexpected guests instead of waiting until we were alone to argue with me.”