Page 49 of The Last Duke She'd Marry
“No, but at least I understand your value. He doesn’t. He thinks that he’s doing you a favor when he asked you to marry him.” He crossed the floor to grab her around the waist. “Whereas that’s anything but the truth.”
His touch crashed through her. She should push Evesham away. If she did, he’d let her go. But her traitorous body arched closer and when he pressed his lips to hers, she answered with unrestrained need, spiced with sparking animosity.
Rancor set the kiss on fire. Volcanic heat engulfed her, overpowering even her acrid humiliation. Then, so abruptly that she staggered, he was gone.
She remained where she was, shaking and distressed, yet longing for more kisses. For more than kisses.
Because while she might remain a virgin, she was no longer an innocent. A man’s weight had crushed her into a mattress. Masculine hands had explored the secret hollows of her body. Most of all, she now knew how lust could overcome every scruple in one steamy instant.
More than angry, she was afraid. Not that Evesham would force her into his clutches, but that she’d throw herself at him of her own accord.
Chapter 14
The next morning, Juliet waited to meet the Duke of Granville in the summerhouse by the lake. It was early, and mist lay across the water as the sun appeared over the hill.
Granville stepped through the doorway. “Lady Juliet, you asked to see me?”
She rose and performed a quick curtsy. “Thank you for coming, Your Grace.”
She’d been here since dawn, although she hadn’t expected Granville to be out quite that early. After a horrid night of admonishing herself for what had happened with Evesham, it had almost been a relief to dress and come outside.
“Your note said it was urgent.” He looked curious, but not overly concerned. Why would he be? Much as she hated to agree with Evesham, she knew that he was right about one thing. Granville believed that he’d bestowed inestimable favor upon her when he asked her to be his wife.
“It is.” She’d asked a footman to deliver her message to His Grace the moment that he stirred. Luckily for her twanging nerves, the Duke of Granville woke early, as befitted a man noted for his regular habits. She wasn’t sure that she could survive waiting too much longer to do what she must.
“Is there some trouble?” He’d picked up the strain in her tone. Or perhaps he’d noticed that she was yet to call him Alaric rather than Your Grace.
She straightened her spine and made herself meet his eyes. Her hands twisted together, until she forced herself to bring them to her sides. “Yes, there is.”
He stepped up beside her, catching her arm. “Juliet, tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll help. Your troubles are mine.”
Oh, he was a good man. A tad self-important, perhaps, but then he was an undoubted power in the kingdom. All her life, she’d imagined marrying someone just like him. Someone clearheaded and purposeful, who would work with her to make the world a better place. Someone she could respect and like and support.
She sucked in a shaky breath and reminded herself that there was no other way. “You’re too kind, Your Grace. But I’ve asked to see you because I’d like to withdraw from our arrangement.”
He frowned in confusion. “Our arrangement?”
Juliet bit her lip. He wasn’t usually slow on the uptake. But then it wouldn’t occur to him that any woman would reject his proposal. Especially after she’d already accepted it.
“I’m asking you to release me from the betrothal that we entered into yesterday.”
He lurched back as if she hit him. “You don’t want to marry me?”
His tone suggested that she wasn’t making sense. She supposed from his point of view, she wasn’t. He was the most eligible bachelor in the land. Rich. Handsome. Highly principled. More, he’d devoted the season to wooing her and she’d given him every encouragement.
“I’ve reconsidered my future,” she said unsteadily. She hated how inadequate she sounded.
Anger flowed in to replace shock, and his hands fisted at his sides. “I’ll bloody kill him.”
His belligerence startled her. It was widely assumed that the Duke of Granville didn’t possess any of the stronger emotions. But hadn’t gossip said the same thing about her? In the right circumstances, anyone was capable of a powerful reaction.
Her hands had gone back to twining together at her waist. “You mistake me, Your Grace. I assume you refer to the Duke of Evesham. This decision concerns nobody but you and me.”
His eyes glittered with fury. “Horseshit.”
Juliet flinched. She hadn’t expected such a volatile reaction. Granville didn’t love her. He’d told her so. “When you accept my decision, you’ll come to see—”
“This is that noxious bastard Evesham’s doing. I should have shot the swine nine years ago.”
