Nell couldn’t understand why the question made the breath catch in her throat. Whom this man married was none of her concern.
Not anymore.
Not since he revealed he was a duke an hour or so ago.
And yet when his gaze shifted and met hers, her breath refused to dislodge.
“I’m hoping someone will have me.”
She might never draw breath again.
* * *
Lucas knewhe should release Nell’s gaze, but he wanted this to be absolutely, without-a-doubt clear to her.
He was speaking to her.
She needed to understand that.
The words he’d spoken to her this afternoon, they were only the beginning. He wanted to expand on them.Here… now.Even in front of his family. If this was his only chance, he would stop at nothing. She was the only woman for him, and he’d known this afternoon—at the river… inside the cottage—she’d felt the same about him.
But, then, he’d been a valet.
Now he was a duke.
One who had hidden his identity from her.
A liar and a duke.
He wasn’t sure which was worse in her estimation.
“Well,” said Mama, allowing her empty plate to be replaced by the main course of leg of lamb, “any bride of yours will need to be utterly enamored of the country.”
“That has certainly been established,” said Elizabeth, the more mischievous of his two sisters. “Isn’t that correct, Farmer Duke?”
He couldn’t help smiling. Even when Elizabeth was wreaking the most havoc upon him, it was always done with a light, loving touch.
“Shall we go out into the fields and pluck out a farmer’s daughter for you?” asked his mother, exasperated. “Truly, Lucas.”
“I’m not sure we’ll have to go that far,” said Lucas, stealing a glance at Nell, who was staring down at her roast lamb as if it were the most fascinating joint of meat she’d ever laid eyes upon. The twin blushes staining her cheeks gave her away, though. She was listening most intently. “She will need to be pretty.”
“Of course, she’ll need to be pretty,” said Catherine, with an unladylike snort. “You’re a man, aren’t you? But what of her accomplishments? How many languages would you like her to speak?”
“One,” said Lucas. “English, preferably.”
“Now don’t be too hasty, Amherst,” said Lord Chandos, Elizabeth’s husband. “You might consider the advantages of a wife who speaks a different language.”
This drew a hearty laugh from the room, and a lighthearted, “Oh, you insufferable man,” from his wife.
“Should she play an instrument?” asked Catherine. Her interrogation wasn’t finished. “Night can be long in the country without sufficient entertainments.”
“The sounds of crickets and frogs will do.” Lucas tried to recapture Nell’s eye and failed.
“What about a lady who can paint?”
Lucas shrugged. He didn’t know if Nell spoke a dozen languages, could paint, or play an instrument, and he didn’t care.
“Oh, Lucas,” said Mama—her exasperation with her only son had grown over the duration of the meal. “Do you even care if she can read?”
