“True enough,” he agreed. “You wished to speak. Let us be candid now.”
“Why do you suppose we would be safer with you than we are here?” she asked.
It was more than time for them to cease dancing about each other. He was glad for her directness.
“I do not fancy myself omnipotent. However, my household is larger, my servants greater in number, and I am the Duke of Northwich. That alone ought to provide more deterrent to these fiends than your current state.” He paused to take another sip of tea, for it truly was perfection. He did not think he had ever experienced a better-prepared cup. “In addition, you have my promise that I will defend you myself as best I can. I would also recommend a visit to my country estate in Yorkshire, at least until Chief Inspector Stone has more of an inkling as to who is responsible for these crimes. With distance, I have no doubt, shall come greater safety.”
“I can visit my brother in the country just as well,” she pointed out.
Quite logically, of course. However, he did not miss the hesitation in her voice. He suspected—or at least hoped—he knew the reason for that reluctance.
“Your brother lied to you.”
He was speaking, of course, about her brother’s assertion—propelled in some fashion, Roland had no doubt, by George Shaw’s manipulations—that Roland had been threatening to call in some sort of debt which had never existed. Indeed, if the debthadexisted, it had likely lain with Shaw, for the devil had shown a shocking lack of compunction about blaming others for the sinshehad committed.
“I do not know for certain that he did.”
Roland knew for certain.
He met her gaze, unflinching. “Pippa, your brother did not owe me any funds. As I told you before, I never loaned even a ha’penny to Lord Worthington. Nor have I ever played the money lender to anyone. I will own that I am not an ideal duke. I possess many sins. But I would never force you or any other lady to marry me. Indeed, I should hope I would neither require force nor bribery to persuade a lady to become my wife.”
Or to persuade one woman, specifically.
Her.
It had always been her that he wanted at his side, in his bed. Would forever beher.
She was staring at him over the delicate rim of her cup as she took a sip of her own tea.
For distraction, he supposed.
No response.
“What lies have I told you?” he pressed, sensing the change of the tide.
“I cannot say.”
“Because there are none. I havenevermisled you, Pippa. This I swear, unequivocally and without hesitation.” He lowered his cup and saucer to the table separating them and pressed a hand to his heart. “I would not lie to you.”
He understood her husband had lied to her. George Shaw had deceived her in a terrible fashion.
“The discoveries I have made concerning my husband,” she said slowly, painstakingly, as if each word she uttered hurt, “they have changed so much for me. I could never have imagined the depth of his deceit. Indeed, I fear I am only beginning to understand…”
“Of course.” He could not imagine how it must feel to realize she had been the unwitting dupe of such a criminal, a man who had brought danger and violence down upon his wife and child in the wake of his death because of his dubious connections. “I understand your wariness.”
“And why would you wish to marry me?” she asked suddenly. “Would you not want to seek a happy marriage for yourself? Would you not desire a union with a lady who is not…damaged?”
Damaged? Was that what she thought of herself? Was that how she imagined he viewed her? If so, she could not be more wrong.
“You are not damaged, Pippa.”
“But I am. I do not know if I can ever truly trust anyone again.” Her expression was stricken as she made the revelation. “And you have not answered my question. Why marry me? You are a handsome duke. Surely you could have your choice of any lady in London.”
He did not want any lady in London. He wanted her.
But now was not the time for romantic revelations.
“I am ambivalent to the institution,” he said instead, which had also been the truth ever since she had married Shaw.
