It was how much she wanted to say yes.
Chapter Four
“You jest.”
The words escaped Sybil’s lips before she could stop them, her fork still suspended halfway to her mouth. She stared at the Duke across the candlelit table, certain she’d misheard his outrageous proposition.
Marriage? To him? The Duke of Vestiaire?
“I assure you, I never joke about matters of such importance,” the Duke replied, his amber eyes steady on hers. There was something almost… amused in his expression, as though her shock entertained him.
He’s enjoying this. The arrogant man is actually enjoying watching me flounder.
“But… why?” She set down her fork with trembling fingers. “You don’t even know me. I’m a stranger who happened to be in the right place when your daughter needed help.”
“Are you?” He leaned back in his chair, studying her with that unnerving intensity. “A stranger, I mean.”
What does that mean?
“Of course, I am. We’ve exchanged perhaps twenty sentences in total.”
“And yet, in those twenty sentences, you’ve revealed more of your character than most women do in twenty years of acquaintance.” His voice held that quiet authority that made her pulse quicken despite her confusion. “You risked your life for children who weren’t even yours. You’ve built something meaningful from nothing. You have experience managing young ladies who are… spirited.”
“Spirited?” Despite everything, she nearly smiled. “Is that what you call your daughters?”
“Among other things.” A shadow crossed his features. “Rosalie is eighteen and about to make her debut. She has opinions about everything from politics to literature, rides astride when she thinks no one is watching, and asked me just last week why women can’t attend university like men.”
She sounds wonderful.
“And the problem with that is…?”
“The problem,” the Duke said carefully, “is that society doesn’t appreciate young ladies with opinions. Or young ladies who ride astride. Or young ladies who question why half the population is denied education simply based on their sex.”
Sybil felt a familiar fire kindle in her chest. “Perhaps the problem isn’t with the young ladies but with society’s narrow expectations.”
“Perhaps.” His smile was grim. “But society’s expectations don’t change simply because we find them unreasonable. And my daughters must navigate that society successfully if they’re to make good marriages.”
Good marriages. Of course.
“So, you need someone to… what? Beat the spirit out of them?”
“God, no.” The vehemence in his voice surprised her. “I need someone to help them channel that spirit appropriately. Someone who understands what it means to be an intelligent, capable woman in a world that doesn’t always appreciate such qualities.”
He’s not wrong. But still…
“Your Grace, I’m flattered by your confidence in my abilities, but surely there are other candidates better suited to?—”
“Are there?” he interrupted smoothly. “Tell me, what would the average duke’s daughter-in-law bring to this situation? A girl fresh from the schoolroom, trained in watercolors and French with no understanding of the real world beyond ballrooms and tea parties?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“Someone like that would either be scandalized by Rosalie’s independent streak or would encourage it without understanding the consequences. You, on the other hand, are managing thirty-seven girls of various ages and temperaments. Not to mention all the previous girls under your care. You’ve dealt with real problems, real crises. You understand both the value of spirit and the necessity of discretion.”
He’s thought this through. This isn’t some impulsive gesture.
The realization was somehow more unsettling than if he’d been acting on mad impulse.
“I am truly flattered by your proposal, Your Grace, but I must inform you, I don’t wish to marry,” she said desperately, grasping for any objection that might pierce his calm certainty.
