Page 78 of The Design of Dukes
Even Andromeda would need to admit she couldn’t go about designing dresses for the other ladies in theton. He’d have to put a stop to her hobby immediately, though he applauded her ingenuity. She could design and create to her heart’s content. But she couldn’t actuallybea modiste.
“You know why I am here, Andromeda. We must marry.” Greedily, his eyes strayed to the gentle swell of her breasts and delicate line of her neck. He thought of tasting her again. Burying himself inside her. Lacing his fingers with hers and just speaking to her.
The last desire was the fiercest.
Andromeda raised a delicate brow at his declaration. “Must we?”
Did she not understand what it cost him to come to her? By the look on her face, the answer was no. And she didn’t seem to care. Taking a deep breath, David measured his words carefully, not wishing to make the situation worse. “We parted on bad terms, Andromeda, and that was not my intent. I wish to apologize.”
“Apologize? Do you even know what for, Your Grace? Or are you only throwing words out at me in an effort to placate me? I’m fairly certain it’s the latter.”
Damn her.“I used an unfortunate choice of words in the study. I only meant to convey—”
“How grateful I should be that despite so many flaws in my lineage, you are willing to overlook my imperfections and marry me? Tell me, how many of my deficits did you overlook when you took my virtue on the floor of your study? I suppose I should be pleased my meager charms blocked such from your mind long enough for you to bed me.”
The rejection shouldn’t have stung so badly; he’d been subjected to years of disapproval from Horace. But having Andromeda tell him she didn’t want him was far worse. Did she have any idea how he’d struggled with this? With her? He’d apologized. Why couldn’t that be enough?
“Wewillmarry.”
She shook her head. “No. We will not.”
“Excuse me?”
“I refuse your most generous offer, Your Grace. Pith will show you out.”
“A poor choice of words was used,” he hissed. “I misspoke.” His jaw tightened, feeling Andromeda slip through his fingers like grains of sand.
“Did you know, Your Grace, I liken myself to one of the paintings or frescoes you are so proud of; beautiful and aesthetically pleasing until you notice a flaw in the canvas. Or a crack in the tile. Perhaps the colors aren’t as glorious as they once were. You ignore it for as long as you can, but every time you view the painting, the imperfection begins to gnaw at you more. You have it reframed. Restored. But it doesn’t matter becauseallyou can see is theflaw.”
“Andromeda—”
“Someday,” her voice grew thick with emotion, “you will grow tired of pretending you don’t see the imperfections you find in me. Will you then ask the servants to take me down, cover me with a cloth, and relegate me to the attic?”
“You are not a fucking painting,” he roared, his control finally snapping.
There wasn’t so much as a pinking of her cheeks at his vulgarity. She stood her ground, glaring right back at him.
“Your language doesn’t bother me, Your Grace. After all, my mother began life as a lady’s companion. My bastard brother owns a pleasure palace. Clearly, I am low-bred since I didn’t so much as protest when you took my virtue.”
“Stop it.” David tugged at his collar, unable to take a deep breath. “The words I spoke...” He reached inside his pocket where he’d carried the butterfly clip, smoothing his finger over one delicate wing. “They were not—”
“I think you should leave. There is nothing more to say.” She turned, and he caught her arm.
“You love me,” he stated with absolute conviction, watching as her lashes fluttered down to hide the anguish David had glimpsed in their depths. “Don’t bother to deny it.”
“I won’t. But I fear, Your Grace,” her voice trembled, “that I cannot andwill notspend my life with a man to whom I am nothing more than a possession. A possession he owns despite his dislike of itsprovenance. In time, you will be inclined to discard me for being without blemish.”
“Never.” The very idea of bedding another woman repulsed him. “I want you.” He reached for her so quickly, she had no time to move away. His mouth captured hers, all his anger, frustration, and longing for her pouring from his lips.
Andromeda flailed her arms at him, before a choked sob shook her body. She sagged against him, a small whimper sounding from her lips. He could feel every delicious curve of her body as he pulled her closer, running his hands up and down her spine. Their need for each other suffused the air of the drawing room.
Why couldn’t this be enough for her?
Andromeda suddenly wrenched away from David, shaking her head in denial as her gaze on him grew sad.Wounded. “If you cannot acceptallof me, Your Grace, my family, my bastard brother.” She paused and drew a shaky breath. “My partnership with Madame Dupree—”
David struggled to regain his breathing, hearing the dismissal in her tone, and snarled, “A duchesscannotbe a modiste. Or be in trade. Even if I should overlook everything else.” Ice coated his words though he tried to stop it.
“Then you acceptnoneof me.” A tear escaped one eye and slid down her cheek. “I will not be your duchess. Marry Beatrice. She is in London. The Foxwoods will welcome your attentions. Her lineage is unblemished.”
