“I’ve been told that before.”
His gaze narrowed. “You refuse to make this easy.”
“You are correct.”
He sighed and removed his hat, his hair springing about in an attractive dishevelment of light waves around his ears. Efforts clearly not working, he dropped the charm. “Come to the country with me. Meet my sister,” he said. “Let me wrap you in silks and satin, as you deserve.”
His speech was artless, but his words hit their mark. Camille was glad for the wall behind her, for her legs would surely have given out without the support. Meet his sister... Such things were not done. Ever. His sister was a lady, and Camille... was not. She’d expected him to offer her an insulting but well-paid position as his mistress. She might have even considered it. For a moment, at least. What he was offering now... She had no idea.
“One does not pluck a low creature from the gutter and bring her home like a pet to be groomed. Not even a duke.”
“Is that how it sounded?” He muttered something about being an ass. “I meant what I said before. My sister is a terror but perfect company. I’ve no doubt you’d be thick as thieves before the first course at dinner, and, while your loveliness would raise a mere sack to heavenly standards, that dress you’re wearing is impractical for London streets.”
“And silks and satins are?” Is that all she had to say? He’d as good as offered her a position as his sister’s companion, which would only be acceptable with Camille’s background if he first made her his ward. Even so, that simply was not done. Her own father hadn’t even considered... Renard made no sense. Did he mean to take her to bed or not? He’d clearly not thought of the repercussions of introducing her to his sister.
Her heart froze against such pretty fantasies. She was surrounded by them, after all; she knew when things were too good to be true. “What is it you want from me, Your Grace?”
“You,” he said simply. “I want you.”
Her patience evaporated. “I don’t even know you!” What a cad to come here and weave this beautiful future for her when they both knew it was impossible.
“Then get to know me,” he said.
He was there in front of her in an instant, his gaze serious, calm. No desire or delusional heat evident to cloud his judgement.
“And if you can stomach my awful personality and dreadful handwriting,” he said, “then allow me the privilege to knowyou.”
The ice in her heart was thawing at an alarming rate. “It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it is. I want you. I like you. Plain. Simple.”
“Ha!” she shouted in triumph, ignoring her disappointment. “I knew this was all a game to you.”
“Huh?”
“You’re speaking of feelings; you must not mean them. Didn’t scratch the itch the first time? There won’t be a repeat of yesterday,Your Grace, so you might as well leave.”
“Excuse me.” He shook his head as if removing water from his ears. “The water must have flooded my brain, because nothing you say makes any sense.”
“You said you like me.” Madam’s experience aside... “Your actions are the ones that don’t make sense.”
His eyes went wide. His hands shook at his sides from emotion, though the trembling could have been attributed to the cold.
“You are the most maddening, wonderful, infuriating, charming, lovely,maddeningwoman I’ve ever met.”
Emotion, then.
“I tell you I want you and you shout how it proves me a what—cad? Sexual male? Yes, I’d like to have sex with you again, preferably with you naked this time. No, that isn’t what I’m talking about. I’m—” He shook his head. “Damn it, I don’t know what I’m saying. My life was simple before you arrived. I was content to spend my days as a worthless gentleman, and then you showed up, proud and right, and made me want something more for myself.” He paced as he spoke. “If I were a smarter man, I’d have left hours ago, after it became abundantly clear you want nothing to do with me.” Back and forth, he walked, his hands gesturing in big sweeps, the cup still in his one hand. “But I am an idiot, as you’ve mentioned numerous times.” He stopped in front of her, nothing but sincerity in his gaze. “But I do want you—your mind as well as your body—and I’ll be damned if my idiocy and your madness keep me from getting that through your lovely, stubborn head!”
Camille stared. Her heart pounded wildly, the useless muscle flying with unfathomable emotion and warming her cold limbs.
Hecaredfor her or believed he did. She’d be the idiot to deny what was plainly written on his face.
She cleared her throat and lifted his collar that had fallen during his impassioned speech. Keeping her gaze down, she said, “As far as proposals go...”
He seemed to stop breathing. “Yes?”
“It wasn’t bad.”
