Page 6 of Who Wants to Marry a Duke
He tried to remember if his mother had ever said what had provoked his father’s sudden trip to London from Berkshire, but nothing came to mind. What Motherhadsaid was that she and Father had been mad for each other. According to her, their marriage had been the only love match from among her three husbands. Either his father had never had a mistress . . . or he’d hidden the fact so well that his mother had never suspected it.
There was a third possibility—that Mother had known and all this time had been lying to him and Gwyn about the state of her marriage to their father. God, he couldn’t even bear to consider that. Because it meant that the great romantic love Mother had always spoken of so passionately to him and Gwyn was a sham.
That was assuming Lady Norley spoke the truth. As the woman must know, there was no way to confirm or disprove the “secret” she was using as blackmail, not with his mother abroad. As it was, it took months for his correspondence to reach Berlin.
But even if it were a lie, the baroness could still spread the tale. She might even know enough to give it the trappings of truth. And he refused to let this she-devil hurt his mother by doing so. Having such gossip bandied about in the papers would wound Mother deeply, once itdidmake it to the embassy. Nor would it help the career of his stepfather, the British ambassador to Prussia.
“Do we understand each other, Your Grace?” Lady Norley asked, not an ounce of indecision or fear in her voice. She had him in a corner, and she knew it.
He said, with all the nonchalance he could muster, “I’ll be there in the morning.”
Olivia sat stiffly on the drawing room settee the next day while her stepmother fussed with her curls. “Once you marry His Grace, I shall have to instruct your new maid about the proper way to arrange your hair.”
“IfI marry His Grace,” Olivia said woodenly.
“Not that again.” Her stepmother pinched Olivia’s cheeks. “Of course you’ll marry him. He’s handsomeandwealthy. You can’t go wrong. You must have thought so, too, given the clever way you got him off to yourself.”
“I wasn’t . . . I didn’t expect that we would be . . .”
Her stepmother raised an eyebrow.
Olivia sighed. She probably shouldn’t admit that she hadn’t expected to be caught alone with him. “What does Papa say?” She hadn’t seen him last night, since he’d already headed off to his club.
Her stepmother waved her hand. “You know your father—too busy with his own affairs to care about ours. But he did promise that once you accept the duke’s offer, he would entertain that selfsame offer himself. To that end, he is staying in his study until the duke has finished with you.”
After Olivia’s mother had died when Olivia was eight, Papa had withdrawn from her life, leaving the care of her to nursemaids and governesses while he indulged in gentlemanly pursuits . . . like drinking, gambling, and going to his club. Sometimes she suspected he’d only married her stepmother so he wouldn’t have to deal with his daughter.
His awkward, chemistry-loving, no-nonsense oddity of a daughter.
“Are you both that eager to get rid of me?” Olivia asked, hoping she hid her hurt well.
To her gratification, her stepmother looked truly shocked by the question. “Get rid of you? Don’t be silly, my dear. We just want to see you marry well. And once you do, you and I can have so much fun shopping and riding out on Rotten Row and paying calls to all the best people.”
Leave it to Mama to choose entertainments that Olivia didn’t remotely find “fun.” “You’re assuming that the duke will actually make an offer.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Her stepmother’s tone had turned steely. “Hewilloffer for you.”
She seemed oddly sure of it. Not for the first time since last night, Olivia wondered how Mama had persuaded him to agree. Or was he simply that much of a gentleman?
Somehow she doubted that, having seen his face as he’d stormed from the library last night. He hadn’t even stopped to bid her good-bye. That had wounded her, but she couldn’t think about it right now. She had to figure out what she would say if hedidoffer.
It was a hard choice. After all, he was the first man ever to kiss her on the mouth. It had been shocking. Delicious. Utterly unexpected. She’d always thought kissing on the lips sounded unpleasant, but she’d enjoyed it. A lot. It still gave her swirly sensations in her stomach. Who could have guessed?
And when he’d slipped his tongue inside her mouth . . . Oh, Lord, she’d felt entirely out of her depth. He’d slid his tongue in and out, so slyly and pleasurably that it had enticed her to do the same with hers.
That had seemed to startle him, but not for long. With a groan, he’d caught her about the waist and pulled her up against him. It had been wildly exciting. She supposed most ladies would call it romantic, but she didn’t know about that. She wasn’t sure what “romantic” was, exactly, having never really experienced it for herself.
The clock sounded the hour, and she jumped. Now was the time when everyone paid calls. Not that anyone ever called onher. Olivia wasn’t good at offering pleasantries or making small talk about the weather, so she didn’t draw scores of admirers like some of the other ladies. It had never bothered her. Indeed, the daily ritual of waiting for callers was just something she had to get through so she could go to her uncle’s and help him with his experiments.
Part of her hoped the duke didn’t show up at all. Then she wouldn’t have to decide what her answer should be. She’d been weighing both sides all night, and still hadn’t made up her mind.
On the one hand, he was very handsome and apparently found her attractive enough to kiss. He was good at the kissing, too, though she had nothing to compare it to. And there was another point in his favor—if she married him, she need never make small talk again. He didn’t strike her as a small talk sort of person. That was certainly an advantage.
On the other hand, she doubted that His Grace would allow her to run her own chemistry experiments or to help with her uncle’s. A man of his consequence would expect an obedient, domestic sort of wife, and she wasn’t that. Why, she wasn’t even sure how she felt about bearing children.
And a small, foolish part of her—the part that had read fairy tales as a girl—wanted affection, even love, in her marriage. But that seemed a bit much to hope for from Thornstock.
The knocker sounded on the door downstairs, and she tensed. Several minutes later, the Duke of Thornstock was announced.
