Page 74 of The Duke of Seduction
Coming toward her, his hat pitched low over his brow, was Beck. He paused when he saw her. She squinted as she tried to see his expression, but it was hopeless.
They both rushed forward at the same time, and they both looked around to gauge who might be seeing them.
“Where’s your maid?” he asked gruffly. He looked about, then focused on her face. “And your glasses?”
“I left both at home. And don’t say we can talk in the park later, because we can’t. I’ll be engaged to Sir Martin by then.”
His eyes widened, and she sensed a bit of something in his gaze—relief, perhaps? “You’re not already?”
She shook her head. “But he’s coming to call soon.”
He swore under his breath and turned her about, tucking her arm under his. He walked quickly toward Brook Street.
“Are we going to your house?” she asked.
He stopped just before they crossed over to the corner of Brook Street and turned to look at her. “We shouldn’t.”
“But we must.” She dragged him forward after checking for traffic, and they continued to the corner. “Is this your house?”
“Yes.” He escorted her quickly up the stairs. The door was opened immediately by a tall, rather handsome retainer—the butler, she’d guess. Beck glanced at him but said nothing as he guided her into a large drawing room. They didn’t stop until he’d taken her into another room, in the front corner of the house, and closed the door behind them.
She looked about and instantly knew it was his office or music room or both. There was a desk that was obviously well used, with a variety of quills of varying sizes strewn about along with a stack of foolscap in one corner. There were also shelves of books she longed to peruse—even knowing he wouldn’t have any about geology. And finally, in the corner were three guitars situated around a cushioned stool.
Her feet carried her to that corner, and she pushed aside the draperies to see he had a view of Grosvenor Square. She turned to him. “You can just make out our tree.”
“Yes.”
His gaze was intense as he leaned against the door, where she’d left him. He removed his hat and sailed it toward his desk, but it fell quite short.
“Lavinia.” Her name had never sounded so seductive or so gorgeous coming from his lips. “I am not a gentleman. I’ve carried on with married women with no thought to their husbands. Despite that—and perhaps in part because of it—I’ve sought to help young ladies like you find happiness in matrimony. And yet, it seems I’ve held marriage in rather poor regard. I can only think it’s because of the manner in which my sister was treated. A woman’s life, her very existence, is reliant on whether she marries, and it’s grossly unfair.”
She couldn’t have agreed with him more, and yet she wasn’t entirely certain as to his point. She said nothing, waiting to see if he would get to it.
“Miss Lennox cried off. There was no wedding this morning.”
She heard the pain in his voice and knew he felt responsible. She strode back over to him and felt her hat slip once more. With a muttered oath, she tossed it in the same direction he’d sent his.
She continued forward until she stood before him. “It’s not your fault.”
His eyes were bleak. “She may not have become engaged to Sainsbury if not for me.”
“She may not. Or she may have.” Lavinia lifted a shoulder. “You mustn’t torture yourself.” And yet she could see he was. She began to glimpse another side to this man, a side he kept very well hidden.
She rested her hand on his chest, splaying her fingers over the front of his coat. “Jane Pemberton told me that Miss Lennox saw Sainsbury with another woman—this isn’t your fault,” she repeated, earnestly looking up at him. “Why did you turn me away last night?”
“Because it was the right thing to do.”
“Are you going to turn me away today?” She flexed her hand against him briefly. “If you do, there is no going back. Sir Martin is coming, and I’ll have to say yes. If not, my parents will find someone I may not like.” She watched the torment in his gaze and whispered, “What are you afraid of?”
“You.” The word was barely audible. “And me.”
“Singly or together? I prefer the latter, and I don’t think you have anything to fear.”
“You don’t know that. I’m…difficult.”
She was beginning to see that. “I’m patient.” She smiled, thinking of her own faults. “Mostly. And definitely when it matters.” She stared into his eyes, longing to kiss him. “I’m running out of time, Beck. What did you want to say to me at the park? You’ll have to say it now or not at all.”
“Marry me.”
