Page 54 of The Duke of Ruin
Chapter 11
Diana’s handfroze just before she rapped on his door. She should wait until morning.
But they needed to leave as soon as possible. That is, if he even agreed to her plan.
What if he didn’t?
Her shoulders slumped, and she pivoted from the door. This was foolish. Her entire mad dash from London had been incredibly ill-conceived.
Why, then, couldn’t she regret it?
Clenching her teeth in determination, she turned back to the door and knocked before she could lose her courage once more. She bit her lip as she waited, trapping it between her teeth, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to do that. Only her parents weren’t here to admonish her. In defiance, she snagged her lip again and pushed her shoulders back.
He still didn’t come to the door. He was probably asleep.
Defeat pulled at her spine, and she began to wilt.
The door opened slightly. Simon peered through the narrow gap. “Diana?”
He pulled the door open and ushered her inside. “Come in.”
She lifted her skirt lest she trip over the too-long hem of her borrowed dressing gown and stepped over the threshold. “No one saw me,” she said, sensing his anxiety.
He closed the door behind her. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. No. Probably.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to sit?” He gestured to the wing-backed chair in the corner near the fireplace.
“No, thank you. I shouldn’t stay long.” She shouldn’t have come at all. She rubbed her hands together, then smoothed them over Verity’s dressing gown. It was an item of clothing she’d wanted to bring but hadn’t had room for. Stealing away in the night didn’t allow for proper preparation.
Simon moved toward the bed and leaned against one of the end posts. This was far grander than any of the bedchambers they’d shared on their journey north. He wore his familiar night shirt and a pair of breeches. His feet were bare.
His lips lifted into a faint smile. “I’m delighted to see you, but it’s rather late for a visit, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but since you didn’t come to dinner, there are things we should discuss.” Dinner? They wouldn’t have discussed any of this there, not in front of Verity. And Diana hadn’t made her decision until a short time ago.
She was stalling. Better to just get it out. “I think we should marry.”
He blinked as he pushed away from the post and walked toward her, stopping just a foot away. “Did Verity tell you that?”
“She suggested it. But, if you recall, it was your idea originally. I know a great deal has transpired since then, and perhaps now that you’ve g-gotten to know me, you’d rather not w-wed.” She winced inwardly, thinking she hadn’t needed to say any of that. It was an appalling show of weakness and doubt after years of learning to hold her tongue.
Her anxiety grew as he stared at her for a long moment, but then his features softened, and his mouth curved into a smile that made her heart pound.
“You stole my thunder.” He took her hand. His flesh was warm. Electrifying. “I’d planned to ask you again in the morning.”
Joy mixed with relief, and she relaxed. “You did?”
“It seems the best solution, don’t you agree?”
Yes, it was a solution. Just as her engagement to Kilve had been a contractual arrangement, so was this. It was a means to an end. Precisely what her father had always intended. And, whether he liked Simon or not, Diana would be a duchess.
“I do. Are you sure you don’t…m-mind?”
Furrows ran along his forehead, and he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. “I can think of no one else I’d rather marry. Is it acceptable to you? Your speech—I notice it falters a bit when you’re upset.”
Self-loathing poured through her. She tried to take her hand away, but he held her firmly. She didn’t want to talk about her speech, so she ignored what he said. “Yes, it’s acceptable.”
