Page 13 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
The Duke nodded.
They all sat down. Catherine could tell that Oliver was mystified by the call. Clearly, he and the Duke of Newden were acquainted but not on calling terms. Oliver would be wondering why on Earth the gentleman was here. Perhaps sheshouldhave given him a warning that the Duke might call today, but it had seemed presumptuous. Like tempting fate.
He is not here to ravish you, nor declare his undying love. If he still wishes to marry you, it is for convenience alone. He told you that plainly last night.
Suddenly, she noticed that Patrick was glaring at the Duke, the look in his eyes so venomous that it was rather embarrassing. Sometimes her friend went a trifle overboard trying to shield her from unsavory gentlemen.
Oliver cleared his throat again, turning to the Duke. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company today, Your Grace? Is there something happening at White’s that I should be aware of?”
White’s was the gentlemen’s club that Oliver frequented which the Duke was a member of as well. That was probably how they were acquainted.
“No,” the Duke replied, shaking his head. “I am not here as an emissary for the club, Whitley. I am certain they can manage their own publicity.” He smiled slowly, looking straight at Catherine. “I am here to ask for your sister’s hand in marriage.”
Catherine almost dropped her teacup. She hadn’t expected he would announce the intention so bluntly with other people present. It was a trifle disconcerting.
Patrick almost spat out his own tea, coughing. Beatrice’s eyes were wide with alarm, darting around the room.
Oliver was so stunned that he simply gaped at the Duke. “Pardon?” He smiled uncertainly. “Did I hear you correctly?”
“You did,” the Duke replied in a confident voice, crossing his legs and settling back in the chair. His eyes never left Catherine for an instant.
Oliver let out an awkward bark of laughter. “I am sorry, old chap, but it is unlikely that my sister will accept you.” His eyes flicked to Catherine. “And I cannot force her hand. I would never do that.”
Catherine’s heart was beating uncomfortably. Of course, Oliver knew her views on marriage and how she wanted to stay independent for as long as possible.
They had discussed it often, and her brother had always been stoutly loyal, telling her he would never force her into marriage against her will. He knew how fiercely she was opposed to the institution but not the real reason why.
She had never told him about how she had found their father with his mistress when she was a girl, shattering all her illusions about marriage. Oliver and their father had been close, and she had never wished to ruin their bond, nor sully it after his death by telling her brother that their father had routinely betrayed their mother and was in fact a serial adulterer and libertine.
Suddenly, she became conscious that everyone was looking at her, waiting for a response. The Duke was still lounging in the chair, an amused look on his face, full of brazen confidence. Patrick looked so affronted that it was almost painful. Beatrice was pale. Oliver was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to keep pace with the speed of the proposal.
Catherine gulped, fidgeting uncomfortably in the chair before taking a deep breath and sitting up straight. She looked directly at her brother, trying to ignore the Duke’s simmering amusement… as well as his blatant allure. It was too distracting.
“You are very gallant, Oliver,” she replied, tilting her chin higher. “But you need not assume that I am unreceptive to His Grace’s offer.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “In fact, I ampleased to say that I am highly receptive to it. I am very flattered, and I aim to accept it… with your permission, of course.”
If Oliver had looked shocked by the Duke’s sudden proposal, it was as nothing compared to how stunned he looked now. His jaw dropped. It was almost comical.
There was a fraught silence. Patrick looked thunderous, his head swiveling from her to the Duke and back again. Catherine ignored him, staring directly at her brother, raising her chin higher.
It was unfortunate that the Duke had spoken so plainly in front of everyone. She wished he had been more discreet, but there was nothing she could do about it now. The cat was out of the bag, beyond any hope of containment.
“You are both jesting with me,” Oliver said slowly. “This is so sudden. There has been no courtship, nor intention of courtship. I do not understand…”
The Duke suddenly got to his feet, looking down at him. “Might I suggest that we discuss this privately, Whitley?”
Oliver gaped at him then turned back to his sister, looking so confused that she felt sorry for him. But again, there was nothing she could do about it now.
Catherine nodded her head, indicating that he should do what the Duke suggested.
Oliver seemed to snap out of his trance. He nodded, taking a deep breath and getting to his feet. Catherine almost slumped with relief.
“Well, I will be a monkey’s uncle,” he muttered, shaking his head incredulously. He turned to the Duke. “As you wish, Your Grace. We shall adjourn to my study to discuss the matter further.”
It was so silent as they left the room that Catherine was certain she would hear a pin drop. She felt sick and giddy and terribly mortified… but she was also beset by a strange elation, unlike anything that she had ever felt before.
We are saved. Oliver will not lose either of the houses and will not end up a titled, homeless pauper. It is as if I have turned back the hands of time, and everything is as it once was.
But she knew that she was deluding herself. Everything wasn’t as it once was. She had given her consent to marry a stranger… a gentleman with a notorious reputation with women.
