Page 28 of Her Ruse with the Rakish Duke
“I agree,” the excitable Melanie quipped.
Daphne shrugged and took a sip out of the cup in front of her.
“Harry is another fine man,” her father grunted. He was already in his sixties, ten years older than his wife. But he acted as if the marriage of his daughters would cement his entire life’s achievement.
Daphne had tried twice and managed to pick unruly rakes in the Society. She was just scared that another trial would land her in a worse situation. Otherwise, she would have quickly granted his wish.
She was disturbed after tea and spent the time strolling in the gardens with her maid a few steps behind. Her sister’s warning stayed with her. They had gone to such extent to keep them from causing trouble. Daphne could not ignore it. Nor could she ignore Victor. Several failed trials had convinced her of this fact.
Distracted by her thoughts, Daphne stubbed her shoe on a stone. She cried out and stooped to inspect it. The pain was inside but there was no injury. She rose and decided to do something about her current situation.
It would help her sister and certainly maintain her peace. Today, she stubbed her toe, tomorrow she might kilt over into a well because her mind was in disarray. So, Daphne set off in search of Victor in the company of Melanie.
They found him in Harry’s drawing room. Quietly and with a mischievous expression, Melanie excused them. Daphne drew the duke into Harry’s study for the sake of privacy.
“This had better be good,” Victor grunted when they entered and Daphne almost changed her mind.
What in the world convinced her he would be willing to go along with it? Never mind, she had already begun the process, there was no backing down. Especially when those blue eyes burned down at her, expecting an answer.
“I want you to court me,” she blurted.
* * *
Victor blinked at her, “What?”
He thought he must have gone deaf or his hearing had become skewered.
“I am serious. Our courtship is the only solution. Remember how they tried to deceive us? We should give that back to them.”
Victor was almost afraid to believe the words coming out of her mouth. Out of sight, his hands were clenched. “A courtship,” he repeated.
She nodded, “We would only pretend of course, but to them, it will be real.”
Victor unclenched his hands from behind his back. “You should have started with that last part.”
“Were you shocked?” she grinned. “It had to be the most unbearable thing you have ever heard.”
“Unbearable, you say.”
This woman would be the death of him. People should control how they smile around others and make their hearts leap with hope.
“You should have seen your face,” her gown drifted on the carpet as she moved toward a couch. “Looked as if Frankenstein haunted your dreams.”
“You want to fake a courtship?” Victor prompted.
“Yes, and a truce. No more bickering. We pretend to be a loving couple, at least for the duration of this wedding.”
“What happens after that?” Victor asked, his voice gruff.
She bit the inside of her lips and stared down at her hands, “I suppose the bans would not be read, because we would declare that our union failed its courtship period.”
This was exactly what he wanted. She would be free to marry whoever she wanted. And her association with a duke would cause the other men to find her alluring. Why did the idea cause him to picture his own eyes getting scraped out by large eagle claws?
“You hate the idea?” She pushed off from the seat while saying, “I understand. It was far-fetched and I have no clue why I imagined that you would…”
Victor covered the little space between them in seconds. He swept her into his arms and slid his cool lips between hers. He kissed her for a good while until her body became malleable to his.
Eyes twinkling, he looked down at her, “Is this how we pretend?”
