Page 6 of The Duchess Trap
Business.
He would save her family and Brightwater from ruination, but at what cost? “And should we marry,” he added, his jaw tightening, “it would serve to teach Felton a lesson.”
Catherine blinked, startled. “A lesson?” Her breath hitched. “What does that mean?”
While Catherine had only spent a matter of moments in the Duke’s presence, she found his countenance easy to read. His lips pursed slightly, and she thought that meant he wished to answer her question, but he also wanted to hold back a little. Then, he inclined his head and fixed her with a curious stare. She knew that indicated he had finally found the words he wished to share, so she nodded encouragingly. “I am expected to marry at some point. If I can accomplish that while putting Felton in his place, all the better.”
Catherine threaded her fingers together so that the fine white fabric of her gloves created a cloud meant to swallow her most unpleasant thoughts. Once she had schooled herself, she replied. “You make this arrangement sound so tidy. So inevitable.”
“It is.”
“No,” she said quickly, loosening her interlocked fingers and shaking her head. “No. It mostly decidedly is not. I will not marry someone under these circumstances.”
“Would you prefer another candidate?” His brow arched. “Do you have a beau waiting for you in the ballroom? Is there someone else you wish to be trapped with inside this locked room?”
Her cheeks flamed scarlet as mortification shot through her every fiber.
“I have not received any proposals, and if there is someone waiting for me in the ballroom, I should be greatly surprised. I do not intend to marry on a whim. And so, I must state flatly that your offer is unreasonable, Your Grace. We are two relative strangers and…”
“Consider it, Miss Terrell: this is, what, your third Season? You’d have to place the greatest of your efforts to find yourself a husband and convince him to pay off your family’s debts within the span of a week. I, on the other hand, can very promptly save the orphanage you so cherish.”
“The sum is much larger than you anticipate, Your Grace.”
“Money, My Lady, is scarcely an obstacle worth mention. Whatever is required shall be provided.”
Her knees buckled. She pressed back against the wall, trying to ground herself. Her mind reeled with the weight of it all—the debt, Felton’s threat, the orphanage balanced on the precipice, and now this man offering marriage.
“You cannot possibly expect me to agree,” she said, her voice shaking.
“You have no other choice.”
The bluntness of it struck her. “I have plenty of choices,” she lied.
“Nameone,” he countered. “Tell me one man’s name who might be persuaded to provide you with the comfort you need. Is there any man alive who can offer you exactly what you want most at precisely the moment that you need it—just as I have done?”
Her lips parted, but no answer came. The truth pressed in ruthlessly. As she analyzed the matter, she realized that almost everything the Duke said held some degree of merit. The Season was ending, her father’s debts were insurmountable, and Brightwater would not survive another month under Felton’s heel. She had no choice at all.
He studied her. “I believe your silence proves my point, no?”
He shifted before folding his arms across his chest. The motion drew her gaze, and because she dared not watch the way his muscles flexed and caused the fabric of his coat to grow taut, she found herself gazing into his eyes. Those orbs had softened marginally, and this newfound sense of compassion made her heart flutter.
Why must he be so cursedly beautiful, on top of everything else?
Catherine wrenched her eyes away as she felt the flush on her cheeks spread to the back of her neck. “You speak as though marriage to you would solve every ill that has ever befallen me.”
“Only those within my reach,” he said calmly.
“How fortunate, then, that your reach seems boundless.”
“And yours?” His gaze dipped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. “Do you mean to reach for rescue or defy it?”
She could not answer. Myriad responses swirled through her mind, but none felt right. Her nerves were bound so tightly, and the press of her concerns weighed upon her heart so heavily that she could not fathom what to do next.
At last, a thought occurred to her, and she decided to give voice to it. He might evade other questions, just as she had done, but to this query, she knew she must hear his answer.
“Why me?” she whispered. “Why rescue me?”
He looked at her unwaveringly. “Because you need me, and we are trapped in here still. I can only envision thistete-a-teteending in one of two ways. The first is that we will eventually be let out of this room and someone, presumably the person who manufactured this whole setup, will insist that I violated you in some way and therefore must marry you to keep your reputation intact.”
