“That should be easy,” Aunt Helene reassured him. “You are the Duke of Marchingham. Any lady in England would be thrilled to take her place.”
Her confidence in him pleased Lion. But if she had only witnessed the debacle he had made with Addy several nights before, he had no doubt that her opinion might have been a different one. Still, he could hardly explain to his aunt that he had deflowered Addy in his bed then hopelessly mangled his attempt at offering for her.
So he gave her a tight smile instead. “Thank you, Aunt Helene. Your faith in me is greatly appreciated.”
He could only hope that her belief was not misplaced.
Addy hastened to her room,her eyes so blurred by tears she could scarcely find her way through the sprawling manor house. Somehow, she managed to make it to the private sanctity of the chamber, closing the door at her back before she began to weep.
Dandy, who had been sleeping on the bed, leapt off at once and raced to her with a little bark as if to ask what was wrong. Sniffling, Addy bent down to pat her beloved companion’s silken head.
“Oh, Dandy,” she whispered. “Everythingis wrong.”
Dandy licked her hand, offering comfort.
What a fool she was.
She had fallen in love with a man who not only didn’t return her feelings, but who wanted to marry her only for the fortune she could bring him. Two whole days of holding her head high, pretending as if her heart didn’t beat for him, as if her breath didn’t catch and heat didn’t lick through her veins each time she inhabited the same room as him. Two days of waiting andhoping that he might approach her and give her a reason to stay on at Marchingham Hall after Christmas. And in the end, she had learned of his intention to propose marriage in the cruelest possible way.
With a sob, Addy marched to the linen press as Dandy trailed after her, throwing it open and unceremoniously hauling all the garments that had been placed within yet again after she and Aunt Pearl had decided to stay on at Marchingham Hall for Christmas.
There was no chance of that now.
She could not possibly bear to remain beneath the same roof as Marchingham for another night. She would have to give Letty and Lila their gifts before she went. Addy dashed at the scalding tears on her cheeks with the back of her hand.
Lady Hargrove’s voice had carried to Addy when she had innocently approached his study door, intending to have an audience with him after being unable to find him alone for the past two days.
Marrying her shall solve all your financial problems.
Addy had halted at the threshold, wondering if Lion had a betrothed and he had neglected to inform her.
Then his voice had come, deep and sure.
Yes. It will.
An American heiress is precisely what you need, Lady Hargrove had said.
Addy’s heart had fallen, her chest seizing as she’d realized they were speaking about her. That Lion, the man who had kissed her so ardently, touched her so reverently, had only done so because of who she was and not because he had wantedher.
Everything had been a lie.
It is long past time that the leaking roof is repaired and the threadbare Axminster is taken away, he had said conversationally, as if he and his aunt were discussing nothing ofgreater significance than what was to be had for breakfast in the morning.
Meanwhile, her heart had been quietly shattering into a thousand pieces.
Lady Hargrove had carried on in her no-nonsense fashion while Addy’s stomach had churned, making a list of all the repairs that could be made and the new servants to be brought on. Addy hadn’t been able to bear another second. She had rushed away, not caring if anyone heard or saw her. Not caring about anyone or anything, trapped in the vicious maw of betrayal.
She ought to have known.
She was no stranger to fortune hunters.
All around her had been the signs that Marchingham Hall was failing, that Lion was in desperate need of funds. Threadbare carpet, missing pictures, few servants, simple fare at the table, overgrown gardens. Letty and Lila themselves had recently been lamenting the lack of pin money their brother had granted them, of the necessity for reworking their gowns from previous seasons so that they weren’t outmoded.
And what had Addy done? She had served herself to him on a silver platter, chasing after him like a brazen strumpet. Giving herself to him.
Had his lovemaking been a lie as well?
Dear God, how utterly mortifying.
