Page 23 of His Haunted Duchess
“Thank you, your Grace, for your proposal,” she said at last. “I am deeply honored by your attention, but—” The duke frowned. “I hope to release you from any obligation you may have felt towards me.”
The duke’s eyes narrowed.
“Am I to understand, then, that you do not look favorably on my proposal of marriage?”
Caroline shook her head, keeping her eyes on the carpet. The curse was hers to carry and not something to be forced to another by idle gossip.
Aunt Olivia’s eyebrows popped like fish jumping out of a lake. She cast, it seemed, for words but found them fled to another corner of her thoughts. The duke said nothing, only stared at her. She watched as the midsummer faded out of his eyes, replaced by icy fall.
“You will not?” he repeated.
Caroline shook her head. Aunt Olivia paled then flushed red as a tomato. She stared at Caroline uncomprehendingly.
“If I may be so bold as to ask,” the duke queried with dread quietness in his voice, “why are you so adamant in your decision?”
Caroline stared miserably at the floor. She had heard the duke’s opinions on curses yesterday—heard them and repeated them over and over again to herself. He wouldn’t understand, but it was better for him to feel a little offense now than to suffer greatly later. There was no telling what her curse would do if she happened to fall in love. He could end up drowned, poisoned, beheaded!
She knew, of course, that the fears about her curse weren’t reasonable. But some terrors defied reason, waved their hoary teeth in the face of reason, and struck, mercilessly, at the things she held most dear.
“Caroline, dear,” Aunt Olivia urged. “Please reconsider. Do you understand what the duke is asking?”
Caroline nodded and raised her head.
“I do understand. You are asking me to become your wife—” She looked into his eyes and stumbled a little. “But I cannot accept your proposal, Your Grace, however grateful I am to be honored with it.”
The duke stared into her eyes, searching for something she didn’t understand. His reflected only confusion—confusion and a hot resentment.
Caroline’s heart pounded. She hadn’t wanted to offend him. But curses, especially ones as virulent as hers had proven to be, didn’t care about offense. She couldn’t bear to see someone else affected.
The silence in the room stretched to unbearable tension. Aunt Olivia’s mouth opened and then shut again. She looked back and forth between Caroline and the duke, rocking a little in her seat.
Tears welled up in Caroline’s eyes. She blinked them back. The duke sat on the couch opposite her, rubbing his lip. He looked like a painting, one of the ones she had seen hung at Chatsworth once.
“I will admit,” Aunt Olivia said, “that the duke’s proposal has been rather—sudden.”
The duke stared at Caroline, as if his gaze could read the secrets of her heart. She resisted the urge to squirm.
“Caroline, perhaps you would like some time to think his offer over?”
Caroline shook her head.
“No, thank you, Aunt—as I have said,” she looked pleadingly at the duke, “however much time I would have to consider, it would not alter the reasons for my refusal. I cannot accept your proposal.”
“Regardless of your personal concerns, which I still have not had the pleasure of hearing,” he said, coldly, “do you have any reason you’d like to voice as to why you will not accept my hand?”
Caroline stared at him.
“None—none in particular,” she stammered. What a miserable thing, to be trapped between the duke and her curse! If only she had more skill with words. Under any other circumstance, she would have welcomed a proposal from—she blushed—from so handsome and well-situated a man. Indeed, the honor and generosity of his proposal only made it more painful in its refusal.
Aunt Olivia lowered her voice.
“Consider, Caroline—the scandal that weighed us down yesterday could and would be ameliorated by your engagement.” She shifted in her chair. “The duke is offering a wonderful opportunity.”
Caroline looked at her fingers. She traced the scar on the back of her palm and shuddered.If I married him, which of them would be receiving an opportunity and to what end? An opportunity for loss, for terror?
“If you are concerned by the fervor of my attachment,” the duke offered, “I hope that my appearance here today merits at least respect for the seriousness of my proposal.”
Caroline started.
