Page 63 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

“Knowing my daughter as well as I do, Ashurst, I think this plan of yours has one major flaw. There’s the matter of her dowry.”

“I’ve already informed Octavia that I have no need of her dowry, and I will sign it over to her, free and clear of any entanglements.”

“And your feelings for her?”

“I’ve brought something I hope will persuade her as to my sincerity.”

“And you’re certain this is what you want to do?”

“Certain?” Atticus’s mouth twisted in a wry grimace. “The only thing I’m certain of at the moment is that I love your daughter. My happiness is in her hands.”

Lord Montford studied him for a moment, then with an abrupt nod, strode to the library door and opened it. While the earl gave instructions for someone to fetch Octavia, Atticus crossed the room toward the painting. Unwrapping it, he studied it for a moment, wondering if he was a fool for thinking the portrait would convince Octavia of his love. The sound of Montford’s soft exclamation as he appeared at Atticus’s side made him jerk his gaze toward the earl.

“If this is the ace in your hand, Atticus, I would wager a fair sum that you’ll be successful in securing my daughter’s acceptance of your proposal,” the earl said softly. “It’s a remarkable likeness that only someone who loves her could paint.”

Atticus didn’t have a response, and instead nodded at the older man’s compliment, before he laid the painting down on the table with the painter’s cloth on top of it. As he did so, the library door opened behind him. Turning toward the sound, Atticus saw Octavia take a few hesitant steps into the room before she stopped. Lord Montford gestured for her to come forward, and she obeyed the silent command, but with obvious reluctance.

“Atticus has explained to me that he’s extended an offer of marriage to you.”

“Yes, Papa,” Octavia’s voice was soft, but still audible. She glanced at Atticus for a brief moment, then returned her attention to her father. Lord Montford cleared his throat.

“He also tells me that you have agreed to accept his offer if I tell you to do so.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“I regret I am unable to do that, my darling daughter.” The earl’s statement made Octavia pale as she stared at her father in bewilderment. Montford crossed the room to stand in front of her. Hands grasping her shoulders, he smiled at her with unmistakable love and affection. “You must decide for yourself, Octavia. You’re the only one who knows your heart the best.”

The earl kissed his daughter’s cheek, then looked over his shoulder at Atticus and offered him a nod of encouragement. Without another word, Lord Montford left the room, leaving Octavia to stare after him with a stunned expression on her features. After a long moment, she turned to face Atticus in a state of utter confusion. Closing the space between them, Atticus halted in front of her then took her hand in his.

“When I asked you to marry me the other day, you asked me to tell you all the reasons why we should, but—”

“As I recall, your grace, you provided me with a number of reasons, all of which were designed to avoid sharing the only real reason we should marry,” she said in an emotionless voice, as she pulled free of his grasp and put several feet between them. “You believed I didn’t have a choice. I can only assume you still believe there will be a scandal—and that if I refuse to become your duchess, everyone will whisper either the Duke of Ashurst failed to do the honorable thing, or I was a fool for not accepting.”

“They will talk, Octavia,” he ground out between clenched teeth, Frustrated she’d not allowed him to finish speaking, he glared at her. “But that’s not—”

“Let them,” she sniffed with a haughty toss of her head. “We agreed we would abide by my father’s decision, and he’s done so. He granted me the right to choose.”

“Then choose me. Choose us.” Atticus took a step toward her, then halted as she retreated a step. “I know I can make you happy.”

“Until you tire of me, of course.” Disdainful skepticism laced her sharp tone, and he stared at her in disbelief. Christ Jesus, did the woman actually believe he’d tire of her in the future after what they’d exchanged last night?

“That will never happen,” he stated with an emphatic conviction that made her raise her eyebrows.

“Of course it will. The Duke of Ashurst will do his duty and sire his heirs, then be done with the duchess he was saddled with because of a scandal,” she snapped. Something flashed in her eyes, and Atticus thought it might be pain. It gave him the courage he needed to confess his soul.

“I can promise you that will never happen, Octavia, because I left out the most important reason for why you should marry me.” His words hung in the air between them, and a look of confusion crossed her face.

“And what reason is that?” she demanded with an imperious tilt of her chin. Atticus’s throat tightened as he prepared himself for her disbelief.

“The most important reason for you to marry me is because I love you.”

Octavia became a deathly shade of white, swaying on her feet as she eyed him in shocked silence before scorn settled on her features.

“You mock me, your grace.”

“No,” he said with unshakeable resolve. Eliminating the distance between them, Atticus caught her by the arm and pulled her toward the table where her portrait was. “I can prove it.”

“Prove it?” Incredulity crossed her face as her gaze narrowed at him. Atticus bobbed his head in a sharp movement, as he halted in front of covered canvas.