Page 75 of The Madame Catches Her Duke

“My intentions were to see you suffer.” His admission didn’t shock her in the least. “I wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting.”

“And instead, you were my savior. Because of you, I met the duchess.” Marce couldn’t help but smile at the mere mention of the elder woman. “It was like having my mother back. Someone to guide me through the difficult times. And now we know it was because she knew my mother, was aware of my struggles, and loved us both enough to go along with our charade.”

“My mother said that she could not fathom what brought you and I together.”

“And I cannot fathom what could keep us apart.”

Marce had never been more honest and forthright with anyone in her entire life—not even Garrett or her sisters.

Rowan had been a mystery, an utter stranger only a few days before, but Marce suspected that she knew—and understood—him on a level far deeper than he even knew himself.

“What now?” Her stomach clenched as Rowan sagged against the lounge, his voice thickening with defeat.

“You two make things official and give the duchess what she wants. We all know we are helpless to go against her wishes.” Marce and Rowan turned toward the door as Tobias entered the study, a wicked and pleased grin on his boyish face. “A spring wedding at Hadlow, in Leona’s treasured gardens, would do nicely. That is enough time for you to collect all your wayward siblings and bring them to Kent, is it not, Lady Marce?”

“It could be arranged,” Marce stumbled over her words, knowing exactly what her response meant—she’d agreed to yet another plan. However, this one was of her making.

“Spring it will have to be, and not a moment sooner as it will take that long to repair the damage Rowan did to the area.” Tobias turned a stern glare on his best friend but softened immediately at Rowan’s dour frown. “Come now, my man, ask the lady what needs asking and let us tell Leona the good news.”

“Is it so simple?” Rowan asked, hesitation lacing his words as if he could not believe he was worthy of any of it.

“Sure it is,” Tobias laughed, walking farther into the room. “Marce, do you find your heart fluttering with anticipation each time Rowan walks into a room? You know what I’m speaking of—pulse racing, cheeks heating, palms perspiring…” He waggled his brows up and down. “Do not make me detail all the sordid little particulars.”

“It is everything I’ve felt for some time—”

“Great!” Tobias exclaimed, clapping his hands once for emphasis. “Now, Rowan, do you not find yourself completely at a loss when around Lady Marce—your nerves frayed and your words and actions seemingly out of your control? Your thoughts not your own, your mind wandering to things you’d rather not dwell on—perchance the precise hue of someone’s”—He winked in Marce’s direction before continuing—“golden curls or whether her lips are more of a rosebud shape or a heart? Oh, and do not inspire me to lament on the subject of the softness of said lips…not that I would know, mind you.”

“Well, I—“ Rowan began, his stared trained on Tobias.

“Precisely what I already deduced. You love him.” He pointed from Marce to Rowan. “And you love her,” Tobias said, reversing the action. “It is settled. And now I think it is time for a drink to celebrate. Rowan, will you be having sherry or something a bit stronger as the occasion calls for?”

“Tobias.” Rowan pushed to his feet and took two steps to cut Tobias off as he moved toward the decanters lined up on the sideboard. “You cannot come in here and order us about. This is a matter between Marce and me, not us, you, and my mother.”

“The facts remain the same, my friend.” Tobias pushed Rowan from his path and continued to the sideboard. “Drinks?”

It was her turn to speak. “Tobias, I must say I agree with Rowan on this.”

Tobias spun around, a smile pulling his lips wide. “See, already joining forces against a common foe. This marriage will be blessed—very blessed indeed. Now, sherry or scotch?” He paused for only a brief moment before collecting a goblet and two tumblers. “I say I pour us refreshments and we head upstairs to impart the good news to the duchess.”

“What makes you think I will agree to wed the duke?” Marce asked, taking the goblet Tobias offered. She stood at Rowan’s side, her arm brushing his as they both faced down Tobias.

“Simple, you already agreed to wed the scoundrel on one occasion, and I dare say the offer was not as appealing as it is this day.” Tobias shoved a tumbler into Rowan’s hand and tapped his cheek in thought, his eyes rolling to stare at the ceiling. “I suppose the two of you can deny your attraction for one another, refuse to accept your mutual affection for Lord knows how long, and in the end—after months, possibly years of denying your hearts’ desire—come to finally wed. However, you’ve both wasted nearly eight years on this charade. If we know anything, it is that life is too short to wait for tomorrow.”

Marce felt Rowan’s heated stare on her as she focused on the sherry in her hands. Odd that neither had been startled to hear the other confirm their love.

“Perhaps Tobias is correct,” Marce mused.

“Of course, I am,” the earl scoffed.

“You truly love me?” Rowan asked, his voice deepening.

How was it easy for him to accept his love for her but not fathom that she could return the sentiment? Marce didn’t need to think on his question; however, a simple yes would not do. Rowan was a man who spoke only when he was certain of his words, arranging them in the perfect way as to embody his exact meaning.

Marce owed him the same.

When he shifted away from her, their arms no longer touching, Marce knew she needed to speak—and now, before Rowan receded once more, taking his heart and hiding it again.

“A part of me believes we have continued in this indeterminate state for so many years because I was fearful of lifting the mask you wore to keep me at arm’s length. I wanted to continue in my hatred of you, which kept my resolve strong, and allowed my need for survival to prevail. But in turn, I robbed us both of so many years of happiness—either together or finding love with another.”