Page 88 of The Truth About Love and Dukes

“But you didn’t say a word, not one word, about loving me at all, Henry. I was so angry, and so hurt.” She wrenched free. “I still am.”

“And you were right to turn me down, Irene, because when I proposed, even I didn’t understand my own feelings for you. Only after you refused me, and I knew I’d never be able to have you in my life, did I begin to understand the true depth of my love for you. It’s not just physical desire or infatuation, but I wasn’t prepared to acknowledge that until you refused me. And I didn’t know after what happened between us how I could make you believe me. All I could think at the time I proposed was that I wanted to make you openly mine, and I wanted to be openly yours. I am not the sort of man for an affair. It’s marriage or nothing with me. I’m old-fashioned like that.” He paused, and slowly, he reached for her hands and took them in his. “So, will you, Irene? Give me the chance to court you properly and honorably, and prove to you that I would be a better husband than I have heretofore demonstrated?”

She looked up at him, into his brilliant gray eyes, and she was still baffled as to how she could ever have thought him cold. “As long as you understand that our daughters will have a university education if they want it,” she burst out, “and I don’t give a damn if you like it or not.”

His face twisted, went awry, and only then did she realize he’d been dead scared she’d refuse him again. He let go of her hands, cupped her face, and kissed her mouth. “They’ll have it,” he promised and began pressing kisses to the tears on her cheeks. “If they want it. They shall be the ones to decide the issue, not us, for they will be possessed of their own thoughts, their own opinions, and—given their mother—their own will.”

She nodded, laughing. “I agree. They shall choose.”

“One thing, though. I have no intention of risking that any of our children are created on the wrong side of the blanket. So until the wedding, we will be properly chaperoned, and your reputation protected. Carlotta shall be chaperone.”

“Carlotta?” Irene was appalled.

“Well, it can’t be Mama. She’ll be in Italy. By the way, you know she married Foscarelli, of course?”

“Yes, I know. And,” she couldn’t help adding, “I also know that you and all your family went to the wedding.”

“We did. You may be glad to learn that afterward, I requested that Mama introduce me to her husband.”

“Goodness,” she murmured, smiling as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’m surprised the earth didn’t stop revolving. And now that you’ve met him, have you softened your opinion of him?”

“No,” he said promptly. “He’s a bounder, Irene, and he makes my boot fairly itch to kick him.”

“You didn’t kick him, though.” She eyed him with doubt. “Did you?”

“No. I shook his hand in the proper manner, welcomed him to the family, and assured him that he’ll be under my protection—and my eye—from now on.”

“Oh, dear.” She laughed. “That probably made the poor man quake in his boots.”

“He did go a bit pale, now that I think on it. I just hope I impressed him enough with the threat of my wrath that he behaves himself.”

“I’m sure he will. Speaking of wrath . . .” She paused and grasped the facings of his gray morning coat in her fists. “I believe you still deserve some of mine. The wedding was Tuesday, and it is now Friday. Friday, Henry,” she repeated for emphasis, tugging on his lapels. “Which means three full days before you came to see me, and I’ve been in utter misery the entire time.”

“Have you?” He looked far too pleased by that news. “That’s unfortunate.”

She scowled. “Damn it, Henry, what took you so long?”

“I needed the time. Not only to write my letter, but also to commit it to memory.”

She laughed, picturing him pacing back and forth at Upper Brook Street, saying the words he’d recited over and over. “But how did you slip it in here?”

“Your sister. We arranged to substitute my letter for the column you’d written, and timed it properly so that I was in the outer office when she brought you the stories for editing. My sisters acted as intermediaries.”

“It was”—she stopped, her throat clogging up—“a beautiful letter.”

“Yes, well . . .” He shifted a bit, embarrassed. “Thank you. Romantic speeches are not really my gift. You may never hear another one.”

She smiled. “What changed your mind about your mother’s wedding?”

“You, of course. You think I was eloquent in my letter to you? Your words to me a week ago were scathingly eloquent, and they have haunted me ever since you said them. I deserved every condemnation you hurled at my head. I was wrong in my decision not to attend her wedding, for it is impossible for me to serve the interests of the family while simultaneously turning away from any member of it. I realized you were quite right, that my first duty was to stand behind Mama in her decision. And when it was put to the family, they all agreed with me. Even Carlotta, although I suspect that was only because David threatened to petition for legal separation if she did not. I’ve never seen anything shut Carlotta up so quick.”

“Good for David. That’s what she needs, for him to stand up to her. But does she really have to be our chaperone?”

“Well, as I said, Mama can’t do it. Nor can your grandmother, Viscountess Ellesmere. She is going blind, and she’s deaf as a post, and not the least bit reliable as a chaperone. And I need someone who will keep me sternly away from you and make me behave myself. It’s Carlotta or no one, I’m afraid.”

“I prefer no one. We’ve done all right so far.”

“No, Irene, your reputation hangs in the balance, and my nerves won’t stand the suspense.”

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