“Of course they are. That is exactly what I meant. Can you bear it?”
“Vicious gossip is best ignored!” she said, her determined chin jutting up. She may be young, but her backbone and character rivaled anyone’s.
“What else did your uncle say?” For a man in a hurry to marry her off, the old man certainly tried to sow seeds of doubt.
“He told me to ask you about the duke, but I already know the duke is alive and well somewhere, and I heard Eustace create rumors to the contrary out of thin air myself.” Mia’s direct gaze gave him confidence. “Did the duke really send you here?”
“He did, over my objections. He wishes me to be well acquainted with the duchy.”
“It is part of your heritage, too, is it not?” she asked innocently.
The complication of illegitimacy and an invalid inheritance was another subject too convoluted for this conversation, though he ought to explain it to her before they married. There would be time later. “You know my father called me a bastard.”
She shook her head impatiently. “Such an ugly word. It says more about your parents than about you.”
If he had been seeking a wife, she was the sort of woman, one who matched beauty with strength and intelligence, that he might have sought. He dismissed the seventeen-year age difference. Other successful marriages flourished in spite of such a gap. He captured her other hand and gave them both a tug. “In that case, Miss Euphemia Selwyn, I believe we will do well together. Would you do me the great honor of marrying me?”
They sat opposite each other, hands clasped between their knees, leaning forward so they were within inches of each other. She studied his face as if she might find the secret to the meaning of life there. Perhaps she could. “But this is being forced on you,” she whispered.
“Do I strike you as a man who allows himself to be forced to do something he doesn’t choose to do?”
Her sweet lips spread in a smile. “I think not.”
“I would have your answer, Miss Selwyn.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I’ll marry you.”
A surge of joy startled him, but it felt right. “May I kiss you?”
Her eyes widened, and he feared she would deny him, but the lids drifted shut as she leaned closer to receive him. His mouth touched hers in a gentle salute, one he found wholly inadequate. He stood, bringing her to her feet with him, and kissed her again, gently at first. He leaned back, searched her eyes for denial, and kissed her yet again, taking her mouth with fierce possession.
Mine, he thought,from this moment on.
Chapter Nineteen
“Mrs. Morrit saysyou must rest as much as you like, but that other Miss Selwyn is demanding that you come, and Mr. Kendrick keeps asking after you,” Mercy said.
Mia sat up in bed with a tray in front of her and gave free rein to her suddenly ravenous hunger. She glanced around the strange room Gideon had insisted she needed if she was to get enough sleep. It wasn’t as large as the one she’d shared with Selina but much better than the tiny one they’d first been given. She’d been too tired the night before to argue or take in details.
The confrontation with her uncle had left her drained and weak at the knees. Only Gideon’s hand at her elbow and, once, around her waist gave her strength. The entire episode felt unreal, yet she knew it had happened. She was to marry Gideon Kendrick. She’d said yes and then—that kiss! She filled with heat at the memory of his mouth, hot and searching, on hers. It had been… Overwhelming. Engulfing. Wonderful. It had been wonderful. He’d gazed at her as if he’d expected her to be shocked afterward. The only shocking thing had been her reaction. She hadn’t wanted him to stop.
“Right unhappy is your cousin.” Mercy puttered about, hanging clothes in the press and folding personal linens. She’d fetched them from the sickroom soon after she’d arrived with the breakfast tray.
A change would have been enough. I’ll go back to Selina today, won’t I?“I’ll go to her directly,” Mia said.
“Mr. Kendrick may want to see you first. I almost forgot,” the maid said. She reached into a pocket sewn in her skirt and handed a crumpled piece of paper to Mia.
Mia examined the message and glanced at Mercy, who tried to appear innocent. Mia was more surprised the girl could read than that she had snooped.
“I’m pleased you are able to sleep in peace. I beg leave to speak with you as soon as you awaken. Gideon.”
Gideon. My fiancé.
She sipped her chocolate and tried to sort her feelings about what had happened. Relief, certainly. Uncle could have done much worse. Humiliation at being forced on a good man who had done her no harm. Even more humiliation over Uncle’s insistence she had no dowry. Other feelings gnawed at her belly. Not fear. He’d never hurt her. Worry, perhaps. Uncertainty about many things. She could manage a house, but would his children accept her? He didn’t love her, and she wasn’t the wife of his choice. Would he come to resent her?
He wants to speak to me. Has he changed his mind?
Mercy watched her avidly. Storing up tidbits of gossip, no doubt. Fodder for talk below stairs.
