Page 83 of Nothing Compares to the Duke
“So that’s why you became betrothed within a week of heading to the countryside? To surprise me.”
“Did it work?” Rhys chuckled and struggled to inject any genuine mirth into the sound.
“Perhaps I simply underestimated you.”
“People often do.”
“So... how did this happen? She’s a beauty. I’ll give you that. But she seems far too clever to be as impulsive as you are.”
“She is. As to how, I have known Bella since we were children.”
“And what? She’s been waiting for you in the countryside all these years?”
“Not waiting for me.” Hating him was more likely. “She’s had four Seasons out and knows her way around London society better than most. What matters to her now is her book. She’s been working on a collection of puzzles. Mental conundrums.” Rhys didn’t know how best to describe them, but he suddenly wished he had a few pages to show his friend. He’d be just the sort to enjoy the challenge.
“Cleverdoesn’t do her justice, then, does it? Innovative too. And ambitious.”
“All those things,” Rhys agreed, and drained the tiny glass of sherry he’d poured himself.
Nick assessed Rhys for several silent minutes.
Rhys stood and poured himself another drink, opting for whiskey this time. Even with his back to Nick, he could feel the man’s persistent gaze.
“The engagement is a sham.” He let out a long breath after the confession and his shoulders felt like a weight had fallen away.
But when he turned to face Nick again, all the tension returned with a vengeance.
“You don’t intend to marry this woman.” His glower managed to combine disappointment and anger in a single glare.
“She doesn’t intend to marry me either.” That admission made him feel hollow inside. “It’s a scheme to satisfy her parents. They gave her an ultimatum,and Bella isn’t the sort to be forced into anything she doesn’t wish to do.”
Nick tipped his head. His glower had become a frown. “But she wished to pretend to be betrothed. To you.”
“I was convenient, and I owed her.”
Nick stood and refilled his glass too. “Now that’s intriguing.”
“Not money. I disappointed her many years ago.”
“Disappointed?” Nick’s brows arched high. “Well, obviously she’s forgiven you.”
“I hope so.” An image came to Rhys, so sharp and sweet it stole his breath. Bella beneath him, staring up at him with a look in her eyes that filled the emptiness inside him as nothing ever had. “Yes, I believe she has forgiven me.”
“So when does your ruse come crashing down?”
“I don’t know.” It was the question Rhys asked himself often. The answer to which he’d come to dread. “When her parents are satisfied, I suppose.”
“And then you can go back to your parties and pleasure.” Nick said the words lightly, almost playfully, and then lifted his glass as if offering a toast. “I imagine that will be a relief.”
Rhys felt his mouth tilt in a smirk. “Pleasure is practically my middle name.”
“Why don’t I believe you?” Nick leaned his backside against the edge of his enormous desk. “You don’t want the ruse to end.”
“Nonsense. The sooner we desist with the farce, thequicker I can get back to Claremont House and behaving exactly as I wish.”
“You’re falling in love with her.” Nick ran a hand across his face and tipped his head again as if he could see straight through Rhys. “Or perhaps you have always loved her.”
“Stop being fanciful, Tremayne. Just because you’re entirely smitten with your bride, it doesn’t mean we’ve all succumbed.” Rhys turned his back on his friend and took a long swig of whiskey. He focused on the burn rather than the persistent needling of Nick’s examination.
