“Even better.”
Even better?
“I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t wish to marry either,” the Duke said matter-of-factly. “I’m far too busy managing my estates and raising my daughters. The last thing I need is some simpering debutante nearly the same age as my own child, trying to mother and guide my girls while simultaneously pursuing the futile goal of winning my affections.”
Futile goal?
Despite everything, Sybil felt a spark of indignation. “You’re rather confident that any woman who married you would be disappointed in that regard.”
Something flickered in his amber eyes—surprise, perhaps, or approval. “Most marriages among our class are business arrangements, Lady Sybil. Romantic attachment is a luxury few can afford.”
Romantic attachment.The phrase made her chest tighten with old pain. She’d seen what romantic attachment could do—how it could destroy a young woman’s life when the object of that attachment proved unworthy.
Like Emmie. Poor, trusting Emmie.
“You make marriage sound positively mercenary,” she said, pushing the memory away.
“Isn’t it?” His tone was pragmatic, almost clinical. “You need resources to rebuild your orphanage and continue your work. Ineed a wife who can guide my daughters through society without crushing their spirits. We both get what we require without the messy complications of emotional entanglement.”
“What about the scandal?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. “Your daughters are about to debut, and I’m hardly what anyone would call a suitable duchess. My reputation?—”
“Is the product of circumstances beyond your control,” the Duke cut her off smoothly. “Anyone with half a brain and the full story could see you were never at fault for what happened to your family.”
The full story.Her breath caught. How muchdidhe know? Nothing of what happened was confirmed, right?
“I’m not sure society shares your generous interpretation of events,” she said carefully.
“Society can go hang itself,” he replied with such casual vehemence that she blinked in surprise. “You’ve spent eight years proving your worth through your actions. That carries more weight with anyone whose opinion matters than outdated gossip about events that had nothing to do with you.”
He really believes that. The confidence in his voice…
“Even so, there must be other candidates. Widows, perhaps, who understand the expectations of running a ducal household?—”
“Do you want to know what other candidates bring to the table?” The Duke’s voice took on an edge that made her shiver. “Ambition. Social climbing. The desire to be a duchess for the sake of the title, the jewels and the privilege. They would see my daughters as obstacles to their own children’s inheritance or as pawns to be married off for political advantage.”
He’s not wrong about that either.
“You think I don’t have ambitions?”
“I think your ambitions center around helping orphaned children, not advancing your own social status.” He leaned forward slightly, his intense gaze holding hers captive. “I think you would see my daughters as individuals deserving of respect and guidance, not as problems to be solved or tools to be used.”
Stop making sense.
Stop making this sound reasonable.
“This is insane,” she said weakly. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough.” His certainty was maddening. “The question is whether you’re willing to consider an arrangement that could benefit us both.”
“An arrangement,” she repeated slowly. “Not a marriage.”
“A marriage in name and law. An arrangement in practice.” He stood abruptly, moving with that fluid grace that made her entirely too aware of his height and breadth. “The final decision is yours, Lady Sybil. I won’t coerce or manipulate you into agreement.”
Though I suspect you could if you wanted to.
The thought was unsettling, particularly because she wasn’t entirely certain she would resist such persuasion.
