Page 14 of Secrets of a Duke's Heart
She didn’t mention the kissing.
Clarissa wasn’t precisely certain how much danger there had actually been. For once, she didn’t particularly care, either. Precision was less useful than venting her spleen. She would have preferred to die in that sea cave than be humiliated by Montague’s begrudging offer of marriage.
For the span of a morning, he had acted as if he genuinely liked her company. But just like her onetime beau, that only applied when no one was watching.
Tears burned her eyes. She swallowed. Nathaniel strode to the globe, tipped back the lid, and extracted a cut glass bottle of brandy. He poured half a finger and splashed water into it, then held it out to her.
“If you don’t want to marry him, you don’t have to. If a child results from your indiscretion, Montague can afford to set you up with a tidy property somewhere?—”
Clarissa took a long, burning sip of her drink and choked. Her vision blurred, but the brandy’s fire scorched her tears away. She laughed and coughed in equal measure, pounding her chest. When she could finally speak again, she croaked, “Too far, Thaniel. No clothing was removed.”
“Clothing doesn’t need to come off, Cousin.”
“I don’t need to know the details,” she snapped, though she did know from personal experience. “It was one kiss, and we were caught. Marriage seems like an excessive punishment for what was a minor error of judgment.” Her humor dissipated as quickly as it had come on. “I might have actually considered the notion if he had asked me with an ounce of enthusiasm instead of acting like he were being led to the gallows.”
“Have you ever known a man to be enthusiastic about the prospect of getting leg-shackled?”
“Yes. Most of them are more eager than the brides,” she said flatly. Her cousin’s lips twitched.
“Touché. I suppose that’s true. We complain and fuss about finding a wife but we’re rarely hesitant to claim our prize once we have found a lady who suits.”
A servant brought in a tray of biscuits and scones. Clarissa abandoned her brandy in favor of tea and helped herself to a currant scone.
“Despite his poor delivery, you might wish to entertain Mr. Montague’s offer for other reasons,” said Nathaniel.
“Such as?”
“They are not my secrets to divulge.”
“Mysterious. How am I to consider them when I don’t know what they are?” She tapped her lips with her forefinger.
“A fair point, and that is all I will say about the matter. This is between you and him.” He craned his neck to peer past her. “If you want to avoid the gentleman in question, you might wish to make yourself scarce. He’s coming up the drive now, on foot, and he doesn’t appear to be overly pleased.”
Clarissa stuffed the remaining pastry into her mouth and scooped up another one to take with her. She had had enough of Mr. Montague’s company for one day.
* * *
Jude strodeinto Prescott’s study where the footman had informed him that he would find the viscount.
“Calamity upon calamity befalls us,” he said by way of greeting. “I regret to bring you bad news for the second day in a row.”
“Clarissa says you have compromised her,” Prescott said without preamble.
Shame seared down his spine. He was unworthy of the Montague name. A duke courted ladies of great fortune and even greater beauty before selecting a wife who would be a credit to his coffers and uphold the family name. He did not accidentally get trapped in a smuggler’s sea cave with a woman of low birth and blurt out a proposal that she promptly rejected. It simply was not done.
“I have. We must therefore marry, and quickly.” His pulse quickened at the thought. There was more than one way to win a reluctant wife. Clarissa wasn’t immune to social pressure, and he wasn’t afraid to resort to such tactics if that was what it took to get her into his bed.
“That might not be possible. My cousin is notoriously hard-headed about these things. Perhaps tomorrow you will have better luck convincing her to be your bride. May I suggest asking instead of ordering her to the altar?”
Jude’s grinding teeth echoed hollowly within his skull. His had been a shite proposal by anyone’s standards. Especially his own. He wasn’t prepared, and he hated having to improvise on the fly.
“I don’t have time for this distraction. I am here for a fresh horse. I will accompany the Riders up the coast in search of theSpectre. Inform Clarissa that we must be wed at once upon my return.”
“That isn’t possible, even if she were amenable, which she is not. She is not a resident of this parish and neither are you.”
“She cannot refuse me,” he seethed. Harriet always hated it when he got his dander up, but Jude couldn’t help it. He wasnotthe sort of scoundrel who ruined a lady’s reputation and then left her hanging. He had no respect for such men. There was no other option. “You must make Clarissa see reason.”
“Does she know you are a duke?” Nathaniel asked idly.
