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A Bride and a Child for the Beastly Duke

Page 9

by Daphne Byrne

At least I will no longer be subjected to his demands.

“Your Grace, I cannot tell you what an honor this is! What an honor for my family. I always knew my Laura would make a fine match, given the right gentleman, one with the… the discernment to see past a young lady’s more spirited moments!” He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed his hands together.

“Sign the contract, My Lord,” the Duke said with enough finality that her father’s hands dropped back to his sides.

The pen scratched twice. First her father’s signature, hurried and looping, then the Duke’s, slower, deliberate; the letters of his name pressed hard enough into the paper that Laura could see the impression from where she stood. Her signature, of course, was not required.

Lord Alden added his own beneath both, clearly pleased at having concluded a successful business deal. “A pleasure, Your Grace,” he said, rising. “I trust we’ll see you again.”

The Duke didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Lord Harwood.

“I will obtain a special license,” he declared. “There is no reason to delay this longer than necessary, for anyone’s comfort. I will see to the preparations myself, and I will be in touch with your household regarding the date.” His gaze shifted to Laura and softened slightly, though his voice remained as even as it had been all evening. “All you need to do is appear at the church.”

Laura’s throat had become too tight for words, so she gave only a small nod. Her eyes held his; she could not look away.

“I’d like a word with Lord Alden,” the Duke then said to the room at large. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Her father was already moving, bowing his way toward the door and thanking them one last time. She followed him out of the office.

The door swung shut behind them before she’d fully understood the conversation was over. She had just been signed, sealed, and disposed of, all without once being asked a single question.

What about what I want?

Before the door closed entirely, she looked back.

The Duke was still watching her. He hadn’t looked away, not once. Not while her father spoke, not while the solicitor gathered his papers, not while the door slowly swung shut between them.

Even as the gap narrowed to a sliver, and then to nothing at all, Laura carried the look in his eyes with her out into the corridor, unable to decide whether she had just been rescued or claimed by a different danger altogether.

The door had barely closed behind her and her father when Nathaniel turned back to Lord Alden. He wanted to ask about Cumberlea outright. He wanted to lay the name on the desk between them and demand what Alden knew of it.

But he did not.

A man like Alden, who had built an entire enterprise on the promise of secrecy, would close ranks around a business partner the moment he suspected that one was being hunted. One wrong word now, and Cumberlea’s trail, thin as it already was, would go cold for good.

Nathaniel could not have that. So, he did the harder thing: he baited and waited.

“You run a tight operation, My Lord.” He kept his tone easy.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Care for a glass of wine? I keep the finest vintage here, for my most exclusive clients.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Alden filled two glasses at a small drink cart and handed one to him.

“I confess I expected chaos,” Nathaniel said.

“Chaos?” Alden echoed, swirling and sipping his wine.

“A room full of masked men and unwilling women is the sort of thing that invites disaster. And yet everything this evening proceeded with…” Nathaniel searched for the right word. “Precision. Like a surgeon in an operatory.”

“You are most kind.” Alden’s expression warmed with each sip of wine. “Precision is the entire business, Your Grace. Anyone can host an auction, but very few can host one that no one outside this house will ever hear a whisper of.”

“And yet men speak of it.”

“Do they?” Alden raised an eyebrow.

“Discreetly, of course. But I must confess, I heard your name mentioned twice tonight before I ever set eyes on you.”