Page 620 of From Rakes to Riches

He sat forward, when what he really wanted to do was shoot to his feet and leave this room. But he couldn’t until the duchess rose first. He yet possessed a few of his manners. “Are you very disappointed?” he asked. It seemed like a natural question, given the circumstances.

Her gaze lifted toward the white coffered ceiling. “Disappointed?” she scoffed. “Oh, you haven’t any idea.”

“You aren’t…weren’t…in love with me, I hope,” he said. Her response was setting him on the back foot, truth told, so use of the past tense only seemed sporting.

Another stony laugh burst from her. “Of course not.”

Rake couldn’t stem the tide of relief.

The duchess, however, wasn’t finished. “Why ever would you suppose such a thing?”

“Your reaction for starters.”

“Oh, it most definitely isn’t the loss ofyouthat’ll have me crying into my pillow tonight,” she said, words dripping with scorn. “It’ll be the loss of your—” She bit off the rest of the sentence and shot to her feet, giving Rake the excuse he needed to rise.

“Stables,” he finished for her.

Her eyes went utterly serious. “Something like that.”

What was going on here, anyway?

But Rake hadn’t the time or inclination to pursue the question.

For her part, the duchess snorted. Possibly the first snort to emerge from her ladylike nose in all her life. “Men,” was all she said, as if that said it all. Her eyes, which had only ever gazed upon him softly, went hard. “And I’ll be keeping Silky Sadie.”

Rake’s brow formed a deep furrow. “Now, let’s not get carried away.”

She lifted a single eyebrow. His protest had no chance of catching purchase on that stony ground.

“Of course,” he groused. Damned dishonorable was what it was.

But he couldn’t very well blame her.

She’d thought there would be no risk in using Silky Sadie as bait, because upon marriage, their stables would combine.

Then there was the fact that he intended to leave here and immediately pursue another woman.

The duchess could have her mare.

He would have something far more valuable.

A life with Gemma.

If she would have him.

He spoke a hasty, “I wish you all the best,” and his feet were hastening across the room. Another stony scoff met his back as he exited.

Outside, he took the front steps down two at a time and called up to his coachman, “The London Docks.”

He would catch Gemma before she set sail and proclaim his feelings—if he could find a way to gather them into coherent sentences.

And if she still wanted to leave after that, then…

Actually, he couldn’t think of anything afterthen.

He wasn’t sure he could go on without her.

It would sound like maudlin rot—if it didn’t feel so true.

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