Page 16 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
He smiled. In the days since he had decided to pursue this plan of his mother’s, Clark had investigated theCrenshaws to determine if the suit was worthwhile. It was, and the investigation had thus far turned up no mention of a fiancé. He need not have asked, but he did because he could not walk away from this sparring session with her. “Yes, Miss Crenshaw?”
She nibbled her bottom lip and then seemed to come to some decision. “I’m afraid it’s your nature as a gentleman that I must call upon.”
“The very nature that you abhor?” He scoffed.
Her lips pursed together so hard that a tiny pale line appeared around the edges. “Violet is expecting to marry a family friend. Nothing has been announced yet, but an engagement will be forthcoming.”
“And your parents have agreed to this match?”
“Not yet.” She said the words like they had hurt her on the way out.
“Ah... then your sister is indeed free to marry me.”
“I suppose that depends on your definition offree. If you can live with yourself knowing that the woman you are wed to wants someone else, then yes.”
He laughed at that. “Miss Crenshaw, I am the twelfth Duke of Rothschild. My family line can be traced back to the Norman Conquest. In the countless unions between then and now, I am unaware of a single one where the parties involved desired the marriage for reasons that were not mercenary. Historically, it is very low on the list of requirements in a suitable match.”
“You mean you never actually intended to look for a woman you want to marry?”
He shrugged. “Hundreds of families are depending on me to save my estates. I have four houses that are threatening to crumble down around me. I have two sisters who must be launched into society next year, and a mother who must be cared for. Finding a woman Iwantto marry is a luxury I do not possess.”
She seemed a bit stunned by that admission. Her eyes widened the slightest bit, and she sat back on her heels. Her thoughts were nearly visible as they spun in her head. Had she believed that he was wife hunting because he wassimply inconvenienced by his lack of funds and needed a new suit of clothes? God, if only things were that simple.
“All right.” She took in a breath. “I can see things are direr than I anticipated.”
He nodded, remembering when he had had that same realization, though his had involved considerably more alcohol.
Her color receded, and she blinked up at him. “With that in mind, I am very sorry to say this.” She paused, and a hint of pity passed across her eyes before she stomped it out. “But I know who you really are.”
He could not help but grin as his gaze automatically fell to her lips and that kiss played across his mind. “The Duke of Rothschild?” he teased.
She took another breath, and the words rushed out of her. “I know that you are the prizefighter they call the Hellion.”
Her eyes had gone fierce again, though she kept the fire contained. He wanted to see what would happen when she let it loose, so he said, “Why do you think that?” A coil of anticipation tightened low in his gut.
“Do you have the audacity to deny it?”
“That is a strong accusation. How would you know such a thing?” Did she think of that kiss like he did? His gaze dropped to her lips, wanting to taste them again and be allowed to take his time. His blood heated and thickened just imagining it.
“Do not tease me.” Her voice shook, but it had lowered an octave. She was not quite bold enough to have the entire dinner party know of her attendance at that fight, it seemed. “Your hair is lighter, but you have the same strong nose, the same smile. The way you speak is the same. And your hands.” She gestured to his right hand, which had yet to heal completely from the last fight.
His thigh still pained him, as well, but he could walk without a limp when he needed to. Oddly moved that out of all of that she would find his smile noteworthy, he asked, “Not that I am admitting to anything, but why are you accusing me of this?”
She crossed her arms over her chest again and glanced toward the drawing room. They were around a hedge, but it was not so far away that someone could not easily come upon them. Satisfied that they were still alone, she met his gaze with the solemnity of someone condemning a soul to the gallows and said, “Because if you continue in this pursuit, then I will be forced to explain your true nature to my parents and anyone else who will listen. You will only have yourself to blame for pushing me to it. Leave Violet alone, and I am willing to keep your secret.”
“I ask you again, how would you even know about this fighter?”
She sighed in exasperation. “I was there, you dolt. I nearly fell into the fighting ring, and you caught me, and then you... then we... well,you know.”
Never in his life had anyone called him a dolt. They might have thought it a time or two, but even at Eton, being the son of a duke came with a few privileges. Her honest rage soothed away any anger that her words might have evoked. He instinctively knew that he would always get the truth with her. His palms itched with the desire to hold her again, so he fisted his hands to stifle the impulse.
“And you would tell your parents this?” A crease formed between her eyebrows. Ah, she had not considered how she would explain her knowledge of him. “You would tell them that you attended this dangerous fight, nearly injured yourself in the process, and this prizefighter came to your aid, after which you...” He allowed his voice to trail off as she began to understand what he meant. A flush worked its way up her chest to her face. Perhaps he should be smiling in victory, but pressure tightened his chest instead as she came to her realization.
She could not out him without implicating herself. Some in society already suspected his prizefighting. Those close to him already knew it. There had been whispers in broader circles, but nothing was confirmed. The truth was that they did not care. At most it was a minor scandal. At worst, it would close a few doors to him. Unfortunately for her, the people who would care about his prizefighting were thesame people who would look down on her even more for attending such an event.
He knew the exact moment she came to that same conclusion, because she stepped back and turned as if in revulsion. Whether that distaste was reserved for society or if he was included, he did not know. He only knew that he did not want to be included. He wanted the woman who had seen him at the fight and kissed him. Her truth and her fury.
Bloody hell.He was making a mess of this conversation. He had meant to let her know that her plan to blackmail would come to naught. Instead, he had very nearly crushed her with the awful truth of the world in which they lived. Reaching out to touch her shoulder, he let his fingers close into a fist and fall back at his side. There was no way in hell she would welcome his touch.
