Howard watched him with open suspicion. “You mean to do what honor demands,” he said, his voice oily. “That is commendable. I was beginning to fear your temper had outstripped your breeding.”
Victor did not answer. His heart had begun to beat harder in his chest, each thud distinct.
The door opened, and Gwen stepped inside.
She wore a plain muslin gown, the sort of dress a lady might wear at home when no callers were expected. Her hair was neatly arranged, though not in any elaborate style. There were faint shadows under her eyes, but no new bruise marred her cheek.
Victor felt a wave of relief at the absence of visible damage. He scanned her quickly.
Shoulders straight. Chin lifted. Hands clasped at her waist to hide the tremors.
“Gwendoline,” Howard grunted. “His Grace has come to address last night’s scandal. You will listen quietly and accept what is decided.”
Gwen’s gaze darted from him to Victor, and for a moment, something unguarded flashed in it. Victor could not quite place it.
He drew himself up. “Lady Gwendoline,” he began, his voice surprising him with its steadiness. “I ought to have approached you in a drawing room, not a study, and with more ceremony than this house allows. However, given the circumstances, I must speak plainly.”
Howard looked smug. Gwen looked wary.
Victor focused on her.
“I wish to offer for your hand,” he said. “Formally. With all that it entails. I ask you to marry me.”
Silence followed.
Gwen’s eyes widened. Color washed into her cheeks, then drained away. Her fingers tightened around one another.
Behind her, Howard exhaled with satisfaction. “You see,” he said. “A duke knows his duty, after all. You accept, Gwendoline.”
Gwen did not answer. She was looking at Victor as if she were seeing him in a new, strange light, as if the words had landed in a place she had not expected them to reach.
“Lady Gwendoline,” Victor repeated, more softly. “I am speaking to you, not to your stepfather. My question is for you alone. And it was… a question.”
Her lips parted.
“No,” she replied.
The floor might have opened beneath him, and he would have been less surprised.
The word hung in the air like smoke.
Howard’s smile faltered. “No?”
Gwen swallowed. “I thank you for the honor, Your Grace, but I cannot accept. You are released from the scandal.”
Victor could not think for a moment. The structure of the room, the shelves, the window, the desk—all blurred together.
“You refuse,” he said slowly. “Why?”
Gwen lifted her chin another fraction. Her voice shook only slightly. “Because I will not marry you out of obligation. I will not bind myself to a man who feels compelled by scandal and nothing more.”
Something ached in his chest. “You believe that is my only motive?”
“What else could it be?” she challenged. “Last night, my stepfather discovered us in a position that admits no innocence. The ton will talk. You are a gentleman; you must do what honor demands. I will not allow my foolishness to drag you into a marriage you do not truly desire.”
“You do not know what you are saying,” Howard snapped. “Of all the idiotic, ungrateful…”
He advanced a step, his face purpling.
