He had a disconcerting way of appearing aloof and icy on the surface, but there was a smoldering heat that simmered just below that expressionless exterior.
That heat now surfaced as he asked, “Tulip, you have now told me what you think of me and what you think of yourself.But you haven’t asked the most important question yet.”
She had no idea what he was talking about.“What question is that?”
“Do you have any idea what I think of you?”
CHAPTER 3
DO YOU HAVEany idea what I think of you?
This is what Davenport had just asked her, and Tulip did not know the answer to his question.Until tonight, she had not realized he thought of her at all.And frankly, she was afraid to ask him and find out.
How could he possibly think her special in any way when she had never done anything noteworthy or admirable?
How could she ever come close to matching his accomplishments?
Davenport had made quite a name for himself as the London magistrate’s top investigator.
He had earned his good standing in Society.
“Care to give me a hint?”Tulip replied in jest.“I have done nothing of significance in all my life, yet you have solved hundreds of crimes and saved so many lives before ever reaching your thirtieth birthday.I am not counting your proposing to me as a noteworthy feat on my part because it was a matter of entrapment rather than anything to be considered a triumph.”
“I was the one who stepped forward,” he said with some impatience.“You did not make me do it.How old are you, Tulip?”
She laughed.“Twenty.”
“Then you have eight years to catch up to me.You are just coming into your own, and there is no telling what good you will do once you become my duchess.”
She almost stumbled while staring up at him.“You’ve said it again.Are you truly serious about our betrothal?”
He nodded.“Serious.Determined.Implacable.”
“Quite remarkable,” she muttered.“Why?”
Why choose her out of all the young ladies available to him in London?
The reason could not be something as simple as she was from Somerset.
She had a decent dowry, which was why Caruthers wanted her.But it was not an outrageously generous one and could only go so far in restoring the Davenport properties to their former grandeur.
If the general gossip was to be believed, generations of dissipated Davenport dukes had severely ruined many good assets, including Thornwycke Hall, the residence of every Davenport duke for the last five centuries or longer.
The manor house had originally been built as a fortress overlooking the Bristol Channel.It was attacked, partially destroyed, and rebuilt over the years.However, due to the neglect of too many dukes over this past century, Thornwycke Hall was once again in danger of falling into ruin.
Or so it was rumored.
She had never visited the place and did not know its exact condition.A good friend of the family worked there and said it was no place suitable for a young lady, but that was because the dukes were libertines and held wild parties there.She hoped it was habitable, merely needing fresh paint and polish to restore the manor house, since she and Davenport would likely take up residence there.
She continued to ponder the question…why marry her?
He was not seeking a union in order to improve his bloodlines, either.No one in her family held a noble title, and he was fully aware of this.
Not even the hint of blue blood could be found in the Farthingale ancestry.
Only in her generation had some of her cousins married well and gained noble titles through those marriages.
She found it hilarious that Marigold was now a marchioness and that Dillie, the youngest of John and Sophie’s daughters, was a duchess.Several cousins were now countesses, another a viscountess, and yet another a baroness.
