Page 27 of Nothing Compares to the Duke
He could almost see the conflict inside her, the struggle between acceding to her parents’ wishes and pursuing her own happiness.
“Iwillneed to marry,” she admitted in a begrudging tone. “But not any of these men. Hammersley is too old and stuck in his ways. Lord Wentworth is too taciturn.”
Rhys stifled the impulse to ask what he was. But he already knew. Too reckless. Too debauched. And, of course, too muddle-minded to decipher a few estate ledgers, though he knew she’d never let him speak of himself that way to her aloud. She’d always been his staunchest defender and she’d never minded when he needed her help.
As if she sensed the turn of his thoughts, Bella said, “I’ll assist you in return, of course. With Meg and the ledgers.” She turned to glance at the messy pile of scribbled notes and open books on his desk. “We could begin tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, it is. And tonight we will celebrate your birthday and I will play the role of suitor.” He winked at her, as he’d done a thousand times before. In the past, it had drawn a giggle, a punch on the arm, or a wink in return.
Today she looked horrified.
“You’re not a suitor.” Bella hated the way her cheeks caught fire and her voice went raspy.
She wasn’t inviting him to Hillcrest to woo her. Not in any true way. She wasn’t even asking him to cause a scandal. Hopefully his mere presence would disturb Hammersley and Wentworth enough for them to give up any thought of pursuit.
The Claremonts had always been a family that trampled the bounds of propriety. The ducal title had simply allowed Rhys’s father to do as he pleased with more impunity. From all that she’d heard of his London shenanigans, Rhys had spent the last few years trying to outdo his father’s infamy.
Men like Hammersley and Wentworth wouldn’t wish to associate with him privately, or marry a young woman who counted him a friend.
“Bella?”
Her mind had wandered while she’d stared at him, and he’d stepped closer without her noticing.
“I’m banking on your reputation. Being pursued by you never crossed my mind.”
“I see.” He wore an irritatingly amused expression,as if he knew some great secret she did not. “But you areawareof my reputation.”
“Of course. You throw a lot of parties and drink to excess and there are a great many women.”
He tipped his head and glanced up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Accurate enough that I won’t quibble.” When he looked back at her, his gaze had changed. No more amusement, just seriousness. “My concern is foryourreputation.” He paused, pursed his lips, and then continued. “If I dance with you, they will think we’re enamored.”
“That’s ridiculous.” The entire notion made her pulse jump at the base of her throat. A single dance meant nothing. “People dance at balls who don’t even like each other. I assure you, I’ve partnered with many men I’ve never spoken to again.”
Rhys dragged a hand across his jaw and stared at her dubiously.
“Fine,” she told him a little too loudly. “We needn’t dance.”
The more she thought about it, the more the prospect seemed a step too far. Face-to-face, body to body, hands clasped and his palm against her waist. That much nearness was entirely unnecessary.
“I’m not saying I don’t wish to, but rumors will start soon after.”
Bella laughed. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I am.” He spoke the two syllables without a hint of bravado.
For a man who’d once doubted his intelligence and let his father’s disdain weigh on him, she was pleased to hear the confidence in his tone.
But he was wrong if he thought they’d start a scandal.
“Louisa knows why I’m inviting you, and my parents still think of you as the boy who spent his days at Hillcrest. No one will think we’re paramours. I promise.”
“If you say so.” His smile was too knowing, but then he turned away from her and lifted his cravat from the back of a chair. “The steward was due today, but I don’t think he’ll appear. I’d be pleased to join you for dinner.”
She desperately wanted to inquire why he was in such a state of undress, but held her tongue. He slid the fabric around his neck and then focused on the task of rolling down his sleeves.
The motion drew her attention to his bare forearms. To the muscles flexing as he moved and the dusting of blond hair against sun-kissed skin.
For a man she’d once known well, she found herself intensely curious about him. In the years since they’d last spoken, he’d lived much more than she had.
