Anyone she wished to marry?
Could he have not, at least, said anyoneelse? Was he really so blind as to ignore the truth? She’d never have made love with him if she was pining for another man.
‘It does not matter,’ she repeated, more for herself than him. ‘I am far more worried about your reputation. The world will think you are a trifler of women’s affections when you have to explain to the countess that there is no Tom Smith. I hope it is not too late for that already. What shall you do if she is already spreading the story about?’
He looked down at the flowers again. ‘That is not a matter of flesh and blood. Just words. I have a perfectly good explanation.’ He reached down and plucked a daisy, then handed it to her. ‘I will tell her I was never trifling with you.’
Had he loved her since the first, then? If so, everything made sense. The ruse was just an elaborate game to make her prove her worthiness. Or perhaps he had been trying to win her hand.
Or perhaps it still made no sense at all? But it did not matter. He wanted to marry her!
He went on, paying no attention to her growing excitement. ‘After all, what is one more lie when I have told so many?’
‘Of course,’ she said in a weak voice, as her newborn happiness crystallised and shattered.
‘And after what we did together, the path forward is quite clear.’ He added a shrug to remind her that, like it or not, a decent man who had ruined a lady had no choice.
This was what she’d always hoped to hear, yet it was so very wrong. If the way forward had only become clear to him because he’d taken her maidenhead, then he would only be offering for her out of duty. Where was the talk of love that she’d heard from Tom Smith? Today, she was with the duke and he made a union between them sound like an obligation.
His weight shifted and she feared he meant to drop to one knee. ‘We are being watched,’ she reminded him hoping to stall the inevitable for a moment.
‘What your grandfather sees does not matter to me. Soon it will not matter to you either,’ he said.
‘It does matter,’ she protested. ‘I would prefer that. If there is something you wish to say, be it done plainly and with no ceremony.’
He seemed surprised, but he did not smile. ‘It shall be as you wish.’ He took a breath. ‘Miss Skeffington.’ Another deep breath. ‘Louisa. Our sham engagement has been the most pleasurable time of my life. Would you do me the honour of making it a reality? Be my duchess. Be my future. Be my wife.’
The words were right. She’d imagined something similar more than once, when there had been no hope of it everhappening. He’d even been willing to get down on one knee while her grandfather watched.
But had he said anything of love? He had spoken of pleasure. But that might just as easily have described lust. And he’d admitted that he had not been sure at first. He had also lost sight of their original goal.
‘What of my inheritance?’ she asked. ‘It was the reason you came here, after all.’
‘You will not need it,’ he said. ‘I certainly do not. I came here because I wanted to know that you would be happy and taken care of. I have more than enough money to look after you. I will do everything in my power to see that you are happy.’ He took another breath and grimaced slightly. ‘I think it is time to admit that I am no use to you as Tom Smith. He could not help you. But Bonham can, if you will let him.’
‘No.’
The word hung in the air for a moment. She could almost see it, shimmering between them, then popping like a bubble to reveal his shocked face.
She did not blame him. She was almost as surprised as he was. His words today had made it clear. Tom Smith had been openhearted, free with his love and unashamed to speak it. He’d come here, sure that love was all they needed to succeed. To survive.
But it was the duke who had proposed. Bonham had been a beautiful dream, but he was not enough.
‘No,’ she repeated, sure of her decision.
‘You do not want to marry me?’ he said, stunned.
He wanted an explanation. If she gave it, he might even say the words she wanted to hear, like a trained parrot. But love gained like that would mean nothing. Her mind raced to find an excuse.
‘When I was in London, I ran Percy’s household for him,’ she said cautiously. ‘Here I do the same for my grandfather.’
‘You are very efficient,’ he agreed. ‘Sensible and smart. The table is superb. The servants seem happy. You will make an excellent wife. I could not find a better duchess.’
‘If I married you, it would be more of the same,’ she agreed blithely. ‘Only more so. I would go from running one household to running an even bigger one. More servants. Several properties. Parties and balls to organise. Charities to run.’ The words tumbled out of her as she imagined her future. ‘It would be nothing like living in a rose-covered cottage.’
‘You would be a duchess,’ he repeated, as if this should be every woman’s goal.
‘You claim you could not find a better one,’ she reminded him. ‘But you knew me in London. You watched me tripping on my hem, or over my own two feet. If I was your duchess, I would become an embarrassment to you. The poor woman trailing her sleeves through the gravy and spilling wine down her bodice.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t think either of us would like that. So, no. I will not marry you, Your Grace.’
