Page 49 of Nothing Compares to the Duke
Rhys supposed he was a performer of sorts. He knew how to feign laughter, make others happy, and pasteon a smile when he was bone weary. But no matter how many times he tested these words on his lips, hearing them echo in the empty drawing room sent a jolt of shock through his body.
“Lord Yardley,” he said aloud, imagining the older man’s kindly gaze on him. “I wish to make Bella my duchess.”
Yes, better to make it personal. Though making it personal also made the subterfuge feel unsavory.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway and he turned toward the door. But no one came. A servant perhaps?
He’d tried sitting but couldn’t remain still. He strode to the window, pushed the drapes aside, and lifted the frame. Some small insistent voice in his head told him to climb out and avoid this mad scheme.
Bloody hell.What had possessed him to agree to an engagement, even a false one? And to Bella of all the women in England. The one woman he didn’t wish to harm or disappoint any more than he already had.
A flash of movement caught his eye and two servants emerged through Hillcrest’s front doors, their arms loaded with luggage. Wentworth came next and cast a longing glance up at the house’s facade before entering the carriage that awaited him.
Was the man looking with that yearning expression at Bella?
“Did you need air or are you considering an escape?”
Rhys smiled at the sound of her voice. There was a tinge of mischief in it that immediately eased his mind.
“You’re ready for this?” he asked as he turned tofind her fussing with an enormous vase of flowers on a table near the door. She was dressed in a gold gown that clung to her curves and yet wasn’t frivolous. Always practical Bella.
“I’m ready,” she said, on a breathy whisper, glancing back toward the door as if her parents’ arrival was imminent and she didn’t wish them to hear. “I take it you are too.”
“I am.” Rhys slid a hand across his middle and straightened the buttons of his waistcoat.
“Here they come,” Bella said before opening the drawing room door. “Mama, Papa, won’t you sit?”
Lord Yardley’s gaze narrowed the moment he spotted Rhys. “An early hour for a social call, Claremont.”
“Some things can’t be delayed, Lord Yardley.”
Behind him Bella’s mother beamed at him. Rhys knew that of the two of them the viscountess would take the least convincing.
“Shall we all have a seat?” A bit of nervousness had seeped into Bella’s voice.
“You wish to marry, is that it?” The viscount scanned both their faces.
“Yes,” Rhys answered in the same matter-of-fact tone Yardley asked.
“We do.” Bella’s words were spoken quietly.
Rhys was grateful she hadn’t balked. It made him doubt what they were going to do a tiny bit less.
Her father would definitely take some convincing. The viscount assessed Bella with eyes narrowed behind his spectacles. “This is all very sudden, my girl.”
“Is it?”
“Indeed, and rather convenient too.” This time he lowered his spectacles down his nose and peered first at his daughter then Rhys over the brass rim.
“Seems rather inconvenient to me, Papa.” Bella smiled, trying to put him at ease. “Rhys and I have always been friends. This is new and unexpected.”
“Mmm.” The viscount looked supremely dubious. His frown hadn’t softened and he stroked his beard as he settled back in his chair.
Rhys took a seat across from him and offered a smile when Yardley shot a glance his way.
“I know you well, young man. Or I once did. I watched the two of you ramble through this countryside together for years and get into all manner of mischief.” He worked his jaw as if contemplating and then added, “But you bickered too.”
“We debated,” Bella retorted.
