Page 107 of The Duke's Bartered Mistress

Demon didn’t bother hiding his eyeroll, as Thorne laughed.

“Milady, if anything, yer puir lad beat my ar—” He cut himself off with a throat clearing. “By which I mean to say, ahem, that we’ve been having a vigorous discussion.”

“About what?”

“About yer son’s marriage plans.”

Mother sucked in another gasp and whirled back to Demon. “Is this true? I’ve been saying for years you need to settle down, but now you’re a Duke—oh, Demon! I’m so happy.”

Demon held up his hand, palm out, to stop her before she started interviewing potential officiants. “I’ve made nae plans. Merely discussing with Thorne.”

“I can’t wait to discuss options with you!” His mother started to pat at her bodice, then her hips. “Oh, drat, why does one never have a notepad and pencil when one needs one? I’ve already started compiling a mental list of candidates—now, don’t look so peeved, every mother dreams, darling. But you must tell me what interests you the most; big bosoms? A large dowry? Oh, a horse farm would be splendid. Lord Gigleigh owns one in Yorkshire, and his daughter has already accepted the invitation to Friday’s ball, it will be a splendid time to introduce you—”

A laughing Thorne gently interrupted her by taking her hand. “Milady, I’m certain yer list is perfect.”

Perhaps she could store it in her turban.

His friend continued, “But Demon doesnae need yer help. He’s already chosen his ideal candidate for the position of his wife.”

To give her credit, Mother didn’t look put out to discover she didn’t need to make matches. Indeed, she appeared even more excited. “Who? Who?”

He wasn’t able to make Thorne shut his gob quick enough.

“The elder daughter of the Earl of Bonkinbone. Lady Georgia Stoughton.”

This time, when Mother gasped and whirled about to gape at Demon, she looked in serious danger of passing out.

Demon scowled. “Kindly sit down, madam, before the oxygen overloads yer brain.”

But Mother ignored him, instead groping blindly for Thorne’s arm. “Lady Georgia Stoughton?” she repeated weakly.

“The same.” Demon kept his tone bland. “No doubt ye’ve heard the rumors.”

“About her being your mistress? About her bartering herself in exchange for the Earl’s vowels? About you keeping her prisoner for a month in your ruined castle, debauching her thrice daily, feeding her naught but bread and water, forcing her to serve you as a maid, all instead of doing the honorable thing and allowing her father to pay his debt?”

“Aye,” Demon drawled drily. Oh, hell. “Those rumors.”

Remembering her reaction when he’d brought Georgia to London, he wondered just how many of those rumors Mother had started.

Judging from the guilt in her expression, more than a few.

She drew herself up, settled her shoulders, and cleared her throat. “Is there anything I can do to convince you this is a bad idea? A bad match?”

“Nay,” Demon immediately replied. “Because it is a perfect match. I am a Duke; she is an Earl’s daughter. Our reputations—the bloody rumors started by those who’ve deliberately tried to hurt us—mean nothing.” When she winced, he knew his shot had hit home as he shrugged. “Besides, I love her. I cannae no’ be with her; it would be like no’ breathing or no’ eating.”

To his surprise, her expression melted into something like sorrow, but also…pleasure? “Oh, Demon,” she whispered, opening her arms to him. “My darling lad. You’ve fallen in love?”

Did she expect him to embrace her? Surely she didn’t think he wanted to hug—why was she coming toward him? Was she going to—?

She did. She was doing it.

Demon held himself stiffly, the whisky cradled in both hands before him, as she gently embraced him. Then she pulled back, leaving her hands on his arms, and tipped her head back to look into his eyes.

He blew the feathers out of the way.

“Demon, all these years, I’ve always wanted the best for you. I know my best and your best might not always align, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to be happy.” His mother’s hands tightened. “I love you, son, and if marrying your paramour will make you happy, then despite the scandal—”

“She’s only my paramour because I couldnae get my head out of my arse soon enough to see what an amazing woman she is,” he snapped. “This situation is my fault, and I will rectify it.”

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