He was walking toward her now, his amber eyes never leaving her face, and she found herself rising unconsciously to meet his gaze. The movement brought them closer together than was entirely proper, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his irises, close enough to catch that warm, masculine scent that made her stomach flutter.
Step back. You should step back.
But her feet seemed rooted to the floor as he stopped just within arm’s reach, close enough to touch but maintaining that thin veneer of propriety.
“I don’t want you to agree unless you’re certain of what you’re taking on,” he said quietly. “This wouldn’t be a typical society marriage with separate lives and polite indifference. I would expect you to be actively involved with my daughters, to help guide them through their debuts and into suitable marriages. You would be taking on responsibility for their futures.”
Their futures. Not just their deportment or their wardrobes but their actual futures.
The weight of that responsibility should have terrified her. Instead, she felt a familiar stirring of purpose, the same feeling she’d had when she’d first taken on the orphanage.
These girls need guidance. Real guidance, not just empty rules about curtsying and playing the pianoforte.
A duchess.The word sent a shiver down her spine. All the power and influence that came with that title, all the good she could do…
“Besides,” he said, and something in his tone made her look up sharply. A slow smile spread across his face—not the grim expressions she’d seen from him before but something warmer, more genuine. More dangerous.
“I’ve always had a thing for brunettes.” His voice dropped to that intimate register that made dangerous heat pool in her stomach. “Especially ones who try so hard to convince themselves they don’t want to be desired.”
What?
Heat flooded her cheeks as the implications of his words sank in. He was talking about attraction. Physical attraction. To her. But more than that, he was suggesting he could read her desires better than she could.
This is not part of your practical arrangement, Your Grace.
But before she could formulate a response, he was moving closer, backing her against the sideboard with predatory grace. She watched, transfixed, as he lifted her gloved hand to his lips, his amber eyes holding hers with calculated intensity.
“You can pretend this is merely business,” he murmured against her knuckles, his breath warm through the thin material. “But we both know there’s something more here, don’t we?”
His thumb traced a slow circle against her wrist, and she felt her pulse leap traitorously at the contact.
“Think about it,” he said, his voice like warm honey laced with sin. “Think about what it would be like to stop fighting what you want.”
Then he was gone, leaving her standing alone with her heart hammering against her ribs and the uncomfortable realization that he’d just proven he could manipulate her responses as easily as breathing.
Just like Emmie’s rake. Pretty words and practiced seduction.
Practical arrangement, indeed.
Hugo found his daughters exactly where he’d expected—huddled together in Rosalie’s bedroom, supposedly preparing for sleep but obviously plotting something. They looked up guiltily as he entered which only confirmed his suspicions.
“Papa!” Melanie launched herself at him with typical twelve-year-old enthusiasm. “Did you really save Lady Sybil from the fire? They say you climbed up the building like a knight in a fairy tale!”
More like a desperate fool, but I suppose the result was the same.
“Lady Sybil saved herself,” he corrected gently, settling into the chair by Rosalie’s dressing table. “And the children. I merely provided assistance.”
“She’s very pretty,” Leah observed with fifteen-year-old directness. “And she wasn’t afraid of you at all which is more than most people can say.”
“I’m not that intimidating,” Hugo protested though he knew it was a lie.
All three of his daughters looked at him with identical expressions of amused skepticism.
“Papa,” Rosalie said carefully, “we heard the servants talking about Lady Sybil staying here while the orphanage is rebuilt.”
Here it comes.
“That’s correct. She and her staff will be our guests until alternative arrangements can be made.”
