Page 86 of A Duke for Diana (Designing Debutantes)

He was flustered. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It sounds as if that’s exactly what you meant. The risk of scandal over having an illegitimate child trumps the risk that the scandal of your father’s death could take you away from me or impoverish us for life. Well, I have a say in these calculations of yours, and I say you can’t make decisions for me. We’re not married, and apparently not likely to be for some time, so you have no right to dictate the future of any child I might have if we don’t marry.”

“Diana, be reasonable. I know you wouldn’t jeopardize our child’s future out of pride.”

“No, I would save my child from growing up with parents in a marriage like that of my own parents. This is about what kind of marriage I intend to have, the only kind of marriage I will tolerate. I reject the kind where you decide things for my own good without consulting me.”

“I’m not saying . . . I don’t want . . .”

“What about Elegant Occasions? If it flounders, will you dictate that I have no part of it? What if you decide to build a bridge in some dangerous corner of the world? Will you go without me, leaving me to worry about you? And if you take me with you, won’t you worry about me being there? If you can’t answer any of these things, haven’t even considered them, then clearly you’re not ready to be married, and I am definitely not ready to be married to someone like my autocratic father, spectacular passion or no.”

“Spectacular passion?”

Oh, Lord, she shouldn’t have mentioned that.

“Surely ‘spectacular passion’ makes up for a great deal,” he said.

Before she could answer, he lowered his head so he could seize her mouth in a kiss. He wanted to distract her, to end the discussion so he could take care of the matter on his own. But even knowing that, she didn’t stop him from kissing her. Because this might be the last time she ever got to. Because his mouth was generous and demanding at the same time. He gave and he took, all in one sweet, passionate kiss.

He pressed her up against the wall, his lips now roaming as her hands did the same. Oh, how she’d missed this, missed having him in her arms. And what would it hurt to be with him again, even if nothing ever came of it?

She didn’t get the chance to find out. A knock at the study door put an abrupt end to their kissing, especially when whoever it was tried the door handle and found it locked.

To Diana’s horror, it was Eliza who spoke. “Your Grace? Are you in there? You’re wanted in the ballroom.”

“Damn,” he whispered, his eyes showing how reluctant he was to part.

“And we can’t find Diana,” Eliza added. “Do you know where she is?”

He nodded toward a sort of alcove between the bookshelf and the wall, and Diana slipped into it. Then he strode for the door, opening it forcefully. “No,” he lied. “No idea. Have you checked the ladies’ retiring room? She said something earlier about repairing her fichu.”

Diana stifled a groan as she lay her head against the wall. She wasn’t wearing a fichu but a tippet, which Eliza would know. This was what came of not teaching men about fashion.

“Why don’t you go on to the ballroom,” Eliza said, “and I’ll look for Diana in the retiring room?”

“Very well,” he said.

Diana waited until she heard both sets of footsteps walking away. Then she crept through his study and out the study door, intent upon figuring out how to reappear in the ballroom without rousing suspicion.

“I knew it,” Eliza said from behind her. “I knew you were in there with him.”

Diana whirled on her. “Then why did you interrupt us? We were having an important conversation about our future.”

“One that includes marriage, I hope.”

“I hope so, too. But you interrupted him in the midst of his speech, so now I don’t know.”

Eliza shot her a pitying look. “If you’d been having that particular discussion, he would have said so to me, and I would have gone away . . . or waited for him to come out and announce the betrothal. But he didn’t. He’s still a duke, my dear sister. They still marry for reasons that have nothing to do with love.”

“The situation is more . . . complicated than you can possibly know. I’m dealing with it. And you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” Diana drew herself up. “Besides, I’m a grown woman perfectly capable of handling my own affairs.”

“Very well. If you insist on having your heart broken, there’s naught I can do to stop you.” A troubled look crossed Eliza’s face. “But I’m not going to help you either. The only thing that gives me hope is the fact that your clothing seems to be intact, and his did, too. No woman can ‘repair her fichu’ that fast, and Lord knows no man could. So at least he’s treating you with some respect.”

“You have no idea,” Diana said. She’d never met a man more intent on saving her from the future than on making love to her. It was flattering and sobering at the same time.

But she hated that they hadn’t finished their discussion. Because soon this “project” would end, and afterward, she wouldn’t see him again. If her reasonable and sound arguments couldn’t change his mind, how on earth could she marry him?

Not that he was asking her to. What if Eliza was right? What if he was more of a typical duke than she’d realized?

No, if that were the case, he would have drummed up some other excuse for not marrying, one where he wouldn’t lose his every earthly possession if the truth got out.

She sighed. That merely made it even sadder. He was being noble and principled, which was all she’d ever wanted in a man. Except she might not ever get to have that man if he decided to martyr himself for the sake of his family.

And that would break her heart.

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