Page 17 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
“Miss Crenshaw... understand that I am not—”
She whirled to face him, but instead of tears as he had expected, her face was livid. “You will not force my sister into marriage. I do not care if I have to risk my reputation to see it done.” With those words, she turned away from him in a whirl of skirts and stormed off toward the drawing room. A soft orange blossom–scented cloud floated behind her, prickling his skin as it settled over him.
His heart pounded with the aftermath of her fury, and he could only watch her go. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, raking his fingers through his once-perfect hair and leaving it mussed.
No one had ever spoken to him that way outside the fighting ring in his entire life. Why did he find it so appealing coming from her? He was not... He had heard that some men liked to be bound and dominated by their lovers. There were whispers that a couple of high-ranking members of Parliament kept women specifically for that purpose. It had sounded ludicrous to him. He was not one of those men.
But her fire was something special. Instead of burning him, it warmed him deep down in a way that he had not words to explain. It soothed him. He wanted it. He wantedher.
A rustle of fabric behind him had him whirling to see awoman in a rose-colored gown standing at the corner of the hedge, watching him. How much of that had she heard?
“Miss Violet.”
“August can be strongheaded at times, Your Grace.” Her voice was soft but firm, and she held his gaze as she stepped toward him. “I would apologize for her, but it seems you knew what you were getting into.”
He liked her at least ten times more in that moment. There was a softness about her, but he now saw the strength he had not bothered to notice before. Her chin was held firm like her sister’s, but her eyes held a mischievous spark.
“Indeed. There is no need for you to apologize. I admit I provoked her needlessly.” He would have done almost anything to be singed by the fire burning in August.
Her lips tightened into a line as she seemed to accept that. Finding her courage, she opened her mouth, and her words came out in a rush. “Was it true?”
Dear God, shehadheard the whole thing. Sweat broke out on his brow as he thought of a way to explain it to her. He did not believe the fighting would break the deal, but he had hoped to have a betrothal contract in place before confronting that.
“Do you really have hundreds of families depending on you?” she continued.
Stunned out of his internal debate, he stared at her and wondered how that would be the most important question on her mind if she had overheard their conversation. “Yes, many of them tenant farmers. We need to modernize with new equipment and techniques. Most are still using field labor. I hope to introduce stock raising.” His voice trailed off as he realized he was explaining far more than necessary.
“That’s why you need an heiress, then?” She cocked her head to the side and looked up at him through narrowed eyes. “It’s not for yourself?” There was far more going on in that head of hers than she wanted people to think.
“Notonlyfor myself.” He would be a liar if he did not confess to being accustomed to the comfortable lifestyle he enjoyed. “I will benefit, of course, but if these families areto survive, we have a lot of work to do. Unfortunately, modernizing is expensive.”
“And you can promise that? Will you put in writing exactly how you intend to utilize a dowry?”
He took in a sharp breath. Was she negotiating with him? Was she about to say yes to a question he had not even asked yet? A mild roar began in his ears. He should be damn near ecstatic. Instead, he glanced toward the drawing room door where Miss Crenshaw had disappeared. He did not want to bind himself to this girl. Not when he wanted her sister.
“Do you or do you not have a fiancé, Miss Violet?”
The corner of her mouth twisted in a rueful smile. “I do not, Your Grace. Not yet.”
“Then why—”
“Good evening, Your Grace.” Her voice was as soft as ever as she walked past him, following the same path her sister had taken moments earlier.
Set down by not one but two Crenshaw heiresses. It was damn near inconceivable. He would not have believed it had he not witnessed the entire debacle. He needed to sit down and absently felt his way across the gravel to a bench tucked against the house. His earlier inkling had been correct. He was mad. He wanted August more now than he had before. He should accept the younger one. She was everything a duchess should be, and by all appearances the match had nearly been made. And she was right. This should be about more than his personal preference. Families were depending on him to do right by them. His own father had neglected them for far too long. It was up to Evan to set things straight.
Still, everything in him resisted walking along like a lamb being led to slaughter. He wanted August. The need for her fire and honesty pounded through him with the persistent beat of fists against a sandbag.
He wanted August, and he would find a way to have her and save hisestates.
Chapter 6
No man chooses evil because it is evil; he only mistakes it for happiness, the good he seeks.
Mary Wollstonecraft
Violet, you seem to have got on well with the duke.” Their mother wasted no time in bringing him up once they were in the carriage. Their father was still settling himself in the seat beside her when she made the comment. Clearly, she had been champing at the bit to hear Violet’s impression of him. Next to Violet, August gritted her teeth but managed to keep her thoughts about him to herself.
“He was... well, a gentleman,” Violet offered mildly.
