“But I intend you to have children, Elizabeth, and I am afraid it isnecessary that they be born in wedlock.”
The conversation had drifted so far beyond any previous experience thatBeth was forced to resume her seat and say weakly, “I do not understandyou.”
“That, I must point out, is because you have not given me sufficientopportunity to explain, choosing instead to indulge in emotionalism.”
Beth gasped in outrage.
“If,” the duke continued, “you will calmly listen, I am willing toattempt to clarify matters.”
Beth resisted an astonishing urge to throw something at him. She hadnever been inclined to tempestuous behavior. With considerable effort sheassumed an air of icy indifference. “Please do so, Your Grace. Presumablyyou will be the sooner gone. I am afraid you are mad.”
“That would be unfortunate, Elizabeth, as such things are ofteninherited.” Beth stiffened, and the duke broke off and raised a hand in afencing gesture. A sweet smile lightened his face. “I apologize. You seemto have the ability to stir me to goading you. I foresee interestingtimes. . . . No. Don’t poker up again. Listen.”
Beth shut her mouth hard on her words. The less she argued the quickerit would be over. He could offer her nothing to tempt her to join theranks of the decadent, idle rich. Nothing.
“You are, without doubt, my daughter. I have two others who are marriedwith children of their own. I had three sons. The oldest two were drownedmany years ago, and the last, my heir, the Marquess of Arden, is not, infact, mine.”
He paused as if to give her the opportunity to comment on the morals ofthe aristocracy. She was tempted but judged it wiser to maintain hersilence.
“The blood of the de Vaux,” he continued, “has run pure through sevengenerations to the best of everyone’s knowledge. I am reluctant to breakthat heritage. Your children would be its continuance.”
Beth frowned slightly, “But so are the children of your . . . yourother daughters.”
“But they cannot inherit the title. I intend you to marry my son, sothat his sons will be true heirs.”
“But that is incest,” she said in horror.
“No. There is no blood tie between you, and no one need ever know thatyou are my child.”
Beth stared at him. “You cannot seriously expect me to agree to this. Iunderstand your motives, though they are based on outmoded aristocraticpride, but they are no concern of mine.”
“I acknowledge that,” said the duke calmly. “I am afraid I am going tohave to be crude. I had hoped you would be sufficiently attracted by thelife of wealth and elegance before you to need little persuasion, but Ican see that is not so. I admire your principles, Elizabeth, but I cannotallow them to stand in the way of my purpose. I have to say, therefore,that you should not underrate the power of the outmoded aristocracy. MissMallory has mortgages on this establishment and they are now in my hands.The amounts are modest and the lady will be able to meet her debts if theschool continues to prosper. If, however, unfortunate rumors were tocirculate about libertarian principles, moral laxity ?”
“That is unfair!” said Beth, shocked. “Our principles are our own andare only disseminated in the school to the mildest degree.”
“I know that. I am merely giving you fair warning of the kinds ofweapons I can use to force your compliance. If that one fails I haveothers. A word from me to the parents of your pupils and Miss Mallorywould be ruined. You will do my will, Elizabeth.”
Beth was so stunned she was trembling. She had always prided herselfthat she was free of being any man’s chattel. She had rejoiced in herillegitimacy which made her no man’s daughter. Now, suddenly, she wasunder the iron fist with no recourse.
“I am sorry to have to distress you,” said the duke, and he appearedsincere. “I admire you and have no desire to break your spirit. But youmust do as I say.”
“And that is not to break my spirit?” Beth whispered.
“It is one reverse. It is a poor soul that cannot weather one reverse.I demand that you marry my heir, live in his house, and bear his children.I insist on nothing more.”
“You merely want my life.”
“In one sense, yes. But you may conduct yourself as you please, educateyourself as you please, hold whatever opinions you please.”
“And what will your son say to that?”
“He will accept it. In return, I think you will have to grant him thesame freedom.”
“And what arehisbeliefs?” asked Beth caustically.
“You will have to ask him,” replied the duke. “It will give yousomething to discuss on long lonely evenings. But I suspect they encompassthe admiration of a well-turned ankle, the knowledge of fine wines, and anardent belief in the liberty of the aristocracy to do whatever they damnwell please.”
It was a thumbnail sketch of the worst type of libertine, the type shehad always been happy to despise from afar. “You are marrying me to amonster!”
