Page 552 of From Rakes to Riches

Again, Rake wasn’t all that charmed.

“Whim was a bit of an understatement. But I thought there was no time like the present.”

Rake didn’t know the duchess—Celia—well enough to gauge the veracity of her words, but he sensed a certain falseness within them.

He shifted his attention toward Silky Sadie. The mare was a fine piece of horseflesh, her chestnut coat shiny, her black mane lustrous, and her demeanor settled.

He walked around and inspected her from all angles. “She’s without flaw.”

“Of course, she is,” said the duchess—Celia, he kept having to remind himself.

A pleased smile played about Celia’s mouth, as if he’d paid her the compliment. Of course, how many times had this flawless woman been paid that compliment in her life?

Countless, no doubt.

He nodded. “She would be a fine addition to my breeding stock.”

Something flickered behind Celia’s eyes.

If he wasn’t very mistaken, it was very akin to distaste.

Perhaps she’d been described in such terms. Most prospective duchesses were.

But this duchess didn’t like it.

He couldn’t say he would, either.

Then the moment vanished, and, dutifully, she gave a light laugh. “I believe it might be possible that you and I already agree on her price.”

In an instant, the price struck him.

Marriage…

Theirs.

Here was his opportunity. He could propose marriage to this woman right here and now, and he would’ve secured both mare and duchess.

And yet…he couldn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

And he couldn’t understand why not.

Standing before him was the duchess he wanted—possessed of flawless beauty and the sort of body that could breed more than a few heirs and spares.

Sure, he was thinking of her in horse breeding terms, but he couldn’t help thinking she was presenting herself to him in those terms.

She hadn’t simply wandered the fifty miles from Ashcote Hall to offer him her horse—but to offer him herself too.

Her approach to the state of wedded bliss might rival his for clear-eyed cynicism.

Instead, however, he found himself asking a different question, lest he propose marriage to a duchess on the cobbles of a stable yard. “Would you like to go for a ride?”

She blinked. Perhaps she had been expecting that marriage proposal. Most men would’ve done, if presented opportunity and encouragement. “A ride?”

“I could have a couple of hunters saddled within ten minutes.”

The more Rake considered the idea, the more he liked it. It would give them something to do other than stand here, not agreeing to marry one another. He suspected that proposal of marriage might very well slip out for want of anything else to say.

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