Page 88 of The Dueling Duchess

Cecile stared for a moment, sorely tempted to slap him—hard—and then throw him out of her house.

Instead, she smoothed her already straight skirts, wishing she could smooth her temper as easily.

“This is work; he is not my lover now. Not that it is any of your concern,” she added sharply. “Do I interrogate you about your lovers, past or present?”

“No, you don’t,” he said, using the irritatingly soothing tone he might also use on a child or an animal. “And no, our arrangement is not . . . exclusive, so it is not, in fact, my concern.”

“I will leave the issue of your spying, for now, but suffice it to say that I am most displeased that you would bribe my employees.”

“All is fair in love and war, my dear.”

“But we are neither in love nor is this war,” she pointed out. “I thought I made that clear from the outset.”

“You did, you did.” He hesitated, and then added, “But given the history you share with Darlington, I would have thought that he’d have looked elsewhere for employment.” He chuckled. “It’s not as if he has any experience in this sort of work—surely he could have found something more suitable to do.”

“Suitable, how?” she asked evenly.

Nathan sighed and took her hands, holding them tightly when she would have pulled away. “Don’t rip up at me, you little termagant, I only meant it is a strange trajectory—from duke to circus employee. I don’t think you could argue with that, could you?”

“No, no, of course not. You are right.” She struggled to regain control of her temper. “But I do not wish to talk about him.”

“Good, because I’d rather talk about the two of us.”

Cecile didn’t like the sound of this.

“Nathan, there is no us. I told you when we began this that it was nothing more than pleasure.”

“Yes, you did tell me that,” he said, his handsome face wearing the bland mask she’d come to recognize as concealing an exceptionally stubborn man who always got what he wanted. “But, for some time now, I have wanted . . . more.”

“I will not become your mistress and go—”

“I want you to marry me, Cecile.”

Cecile knew that the expression on her face—eyes goggling and jaw hanging—was not especially attractive, but she couldn’t seem to close her mouth.

He chuckled. “Why do you look so surprised?”

“Because you are a wealthy peer, and I am a circus worker!”

“My title is so new it still pinches, I continue to earn money in trade, and—most importantly—I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks about me. What’s the point of being screamingly wealthy if one conforms to the expectations of others?”

Cecile couldn’t help smiling. “That is, I must admit, an excellent philosophy, Nathan.”

“So?” he said, his eyelids lowering and his clever hands sliding up her arms and then around her shoulders in a way that made her hiss in a sharp breath. “Will you marry me, my dear? Will you allow me to dress you in silk and velvet and furs and spoil you with diamonds and emeralds?”

What about love?

The voice was so quiet that she barely heard it. It wasn’t her voice—that much was certain. When had she ever thought about love?

“But—Nathan, this is so—”

“Don’t say it is so sudden, Cecile. You must know how I feel about you?” His normally lazy, mocking gaze was suddenly sharp and possessive. “I don’t like thinking of you working so hard, and I hate thinking of you with other men.”

Was the man mad? They’d shared a few dozen meals and engaged in sex perhaps the same number of times and he fancied himself in love?

You’ve been his lover for nearly five months; that is more than twice as long as you were with Guy.

The thought was rather shocking. Mainly because she felt nothing for the handsome man beside her.