Page 7 of His Tempting Duchess

She handed the letter over to the duke, who unfolded it. She squinted, watching his sharp eyes skim over sentence after sentence. His mouth tightened.

“Hm. I see. What would one call a letter like this?”

“Blackmail,” Emily answered shortly. “It is blackmail. I am to marry you, or my secret is out. That is what your cousin said—the man who calls himself a gentleman.”

The duke winced, carefully refolding the letter and handing it back to her. “Careless, careless.”

Hope jumped in Emily’s chest. She eyed him closely.

“Just a moment…” she trailed off, studying his face. “I don’t believe for an instant that your cousin would have taken such a liberty. I think you knew about mysecret, as you so nicely put it, and you were about to lethimdo the dirty work of forcing me down the aisle.”

The duke stared down at her, something like surprise on his face. And was that admiration? No, surely not.

“You’re a clever girl, Miss Belmont,” he said briskly. “I had hoped Richard would be a little less forceful. The letter reads like a bailiff’s notice. Where is thecharm?”

“Charm?Charm? The subject remains the same. You insist on me marrying you in exchange for keeping quiet about… about my secret. Tell me,Your Grace, what is so repulsive about you that prevents you from finding a wife the ordinary way?”

Anger boiled up inside Emily. She hadn’t eaten a thing all day, and her empty stomach growled. She tasted bile.

Taking a step forward, she glared up into the duke’s face, daring him to answer.

Hewashandsome—not that it meant a thing. In her experience, handsome men were just as likely to be cruel as plain ones, which the Duke of Clapton was demonstrating very nicely.

Even so, there were plenty of ladies in Society who did not care about that sort of thing. They would happily snap up a duke of any age without regard for looks, and the duke was… well, hewaspleasant to look at if one liked that sort of thing.

The most handsome blackmailer I have ever seen.

He held her gaze for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

“How forthright you are, Miss Belmont. My cousin mentioned that your sister was the firebrand, but I feel that you are every bit as fiery, and distinctly prettier. My reasons for seeking a wife are, after all, my own, but perhaps I have resorted to such a method becausetimingis an issue.”

She blinked, trying to understand. “Timing? What, are you dying of consumption?”

That did not earn her a smile.

“Very amusing, Miss Belmont,” he said dryly. “I want a marriage of convenience. I don’t care to fall in love. It seems like a nasty business, with a great deal of risk involved. I never was much of a gambler. If you had married me, we might have gone about our own lives without bothering each other in the slightest.”

“I could never live the life I wanted with a man who threatened me into marriage,” she snapped.

Far from being offended, he only smiled.

“Persuaded, my dear. Persuaded into marriage. And I’m sure you would manage quite nicely. You do enjoy your peace and quiet, don’t you?”

She took a moment before responding.

“You know so much about me,” she murmured. “Why take so much effort to learn about me, only to blackmail me?”

He shrugged. “I like to understand my rivals.”

“But I am not a rival. I am your bride-to-be. Or at least, I was,” she corrected. “I think it’s safe to say that the wedding is off now.”

He looked sharply at her, and she realized in a rush that it was not over. Not by a long shot.

“Oh, my dear Miss Belmont, this is a mere hiccup in our wedding plans,” he said, his voice even and unconcerned. “There’ll be a small delay, but you and I shall trip down the aisle together once more. Hopefully, next time you will wear your spectacles. I daresay you’ll enjoy the ceremony much more if you can see it. This embarrassment, you know, will not affect me very much. As a man and a duke, my reputation is unharmed, and any humiliation will roll off my name like water off the back of a duck.”

Emily took a step backward, panic and anger fighting for dominance inside her. She wanted to scream, to hit him, todosomething, even if that something was turning and running for her life. Most of the congregation had filed out by now, and they would soon be alone at the head of the church.

Another part of her was—it was awful to admit it—enjoying their exchange. It was rather like playing a game of chess with a truly worthy opponent. Achallenge.

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