“A service?” It was a harmless enough word. There was no reason it should make her stomach pitch with alarm, but she was obliged to steel her spine and raise her chin before she could meet Lord Dunwitty’s gaze without flinching. “What sort of service did the Duke of Grantham require from you, my lord?”
“You must understand, Miss St. Claire. This was before I knew you. Almost as soon as I met you, I knew I could never go through—”
“It’s quite all right, my lord.” But itwasn’tall right. Nothing would ever be right again, once he told her the truth. She knew it, and yet the only thing worse than knowing what he was about to say, wasnotknowing it. “I would be grateful to you if you’d simply get on with it.”
“Of course. Forgive me.” He blew out a breath. “I was to come to Fairford, sweep you into a whirlwind courtship, and propose marriage to you before the house party ended.” A dull, red flush crept into his cheeks. “Then, once we’d married, I was to—”
“Turn over my share of Hammond Court to the Duke of Grantham.”
Dear God, what a fool she was! How could she not have realized it at once? Handsome, fashionable aristocrats like Lord Dunwitty didn’t single out inconsequential young ladies like her for their flattering attention.
Neither did dukes.
How easy she’d made it for them! And how they must have laughed at her.
She was going to be sick. Bile was crawling up her throat, flooding her mouth. She was going to cast up her accounts, right here in the duke’s elegant portrait gallery.
“Yes.” He gave her a miserable nod.
“I see. That’s . . . well, it’s a clever scheme, isn’t it?” Clever, ruthless, and unconscionable. In short, a scheme worthy of the wicked Duke of Grantham.
If she’d been a different sort of lady—the sort of lady who’d marry a man she didn’t love in exchange for a title and money—it might have worked. But she was far from being that lady. If Max had known her at all, he would have realized from the start his scheme would never work.
But that was the point, wasn’t it? Hedidn’tknow her, and she didn’t know him, and a few seductive kisses and false promises didn’t change that. No doubt they’d been part of his ploy to begin with.
“From the very start, I thought it callous, and heartless.” Lord Dunwitty’s tone was grim. “Yet to my everlasting shame, I agreed to it for my uncle’s sake, and I don’t know if I shall ever forgive myself for it. Once I came to know you, I realized I could never go through with it. You deserve a great deal better than to be the victim of such a cruel deception.”
Rose nodded, but she hardly heard him.
All this time—the ice skating, the sleigh ride, those devastating kisses, and the passion that had burned so brightly between them—while she’d been sighing over Max, and weaving romantic fantasies, he’d been plotting to steal Hammond Court from her.
“I beg your pardon most sincerely, Miss St. Claire.” Lord Dunwitty caught her hands in his and pressed a feverish kiss to her knuckles. “If you could forgive me—if you ever could find it in your heart to . . . to love me, I’d consider myself the most fortunate man in England.”
Gently, she drew her hands away. “I do forgive you, my lord, and I hope for every happiness for you, but I’m afraid my affections are engaged elsewhere.”
“It’s Grantham, isn’t it?”
Alas, despite everything, it was. Had ever a lady disposed of her heart as foolishly as she? “The heart is a reckless organ, is it not, my lord?”
“Alas, I’m afraid it is.” He hesitated, as if unsure what to say or do, but finally, he offered her a deep bow. “I’m leaving Grantham Lodge early in the morning and am unlikely to see you again. It has been a great honor and pleasure to know you, Miss St. Claire. I will always wish you the best.”
He turned to go but then paused. “I’m no admirer of the Duke of Grantham, Miss St. Claire, but there is something else you should know.”
There wasmore? She’d heard quite enough already, but he looked so earnest, she couldn’t refuse him. “Very well. What is it, my lord?”
“This morning, Grantham called me into his study and told me he’d changed his plans. He warned me to stay away from you for the remainder of the house party. To his credit, I believe he thought better of the scheme.” He gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know if that makes any difference to you, but I thought it right you should know.”
Did it make a difference? She hardly knew.
Their tryst in the kitchens at Hammond Court had taken place the afternoon before Max’s chat with Lord Dunwitty. It wasn’t likely the timing was coincidental, but in the end, what did it matter? After this, she could never trust Max again. For all she knew, he’d given up the scheme with Lord Dunwitty so he could seduce her himself.
Why shouldn’t he? It was as good a way as any to get his hands on Hammond Court, and goodness knew she’d given him every reason to believe he’d succeed, falling into his arms as she had.
But she managed a halfhearted smile for Lord Dunwitty. “Thank you, my lord.”
He nodded, and then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. She was left alone, and as still as the portraits of Max’s forbears hanging silently on the walls. If she moved, she’d shatter into a thousand pieces, so she remained as she was, taking in one shuddering breath after another until she was certain she could keep herself together, just for a little while longer.
Then, she ran.
