Lost in thought again, he closed his eyes and drifted into another light doze. When he opened them again, Harriet’s clear green eyes were regarding him with absorption.
‘Is it light yet?’ she asked.
Marc peered through the small, grimy window and then consulted his pocket watch. ‘It will be soon.’
‘You haven’t moved a muscle all night. How do you remain so still?’
‘How do you feel?’
‘Better, I think. Are my clothes dry?’
He reached out and fingered the garments spread over the apple barrels. ‘Dry enough.’ He passed them to her and politely turned his back while she clothed herself.
‘Here, please have your coat back.’
‘Keep it. The air is still cool.’ He pulled his damp shirt over his head, hung his blood-stained cravat around his neck, and reclaimed his waistcoat.
‘What time is it?’
‘About five. It will be light in less than an hour.’
Now that she was in full possession of her senses, she appeared embarrassed by their situation and wouldn’t look at him. Presumably the penny had finally dropped.
‘Then we should make our way towards the house.’
‘In a moment. There’s something I need to ask you first.’
‘Oh?’ She arched a brow. ‘What can that be?’
Did she really not know? Marc cleared his throat, nervous suddenly, even though her reaction was a foregone conclusion. ‘Miss Aston, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
‘What!’ Her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she looked totally shocked. Marc amended his earlier opinion, certain now that she had not anticipated his proposal.
‘I believe you heard me right. I am in need of a wife, and you would serve me adequately in that capacity.’
‘Saints alive!’ She shook her head, sending her tangled mass of hair cascading around her body. ‘Have you any notion how callous that sounded?’
‘Surely you don’t require romantic gestures or declarations of undying love?’ He stifled a yawn. ‘I had thought you in possession of more sense than that.’
‘I have sense enough in the general way, but you have taken me completely by surprise with your ridiculous proposal.’
Marc raised a brow. ‘Ridiculous?’
‘Certainly ridiculous.’
‘You mean to reject me?’ Marc was stunned. Perhaps he could have used prettier words, but given her precarious financial situation he had assumed she would jump at the chance of securing her family’s future. Surely she could see that marriage to him would resolve all her problems just as it would resolve his? She was young enough to bear his children with ease, refreshingly outspoken and intelligent—all in all, a vast improvement on the alternatives.
‘Thank you for the honour of your proposal,’ she said primly, ‘but we would not suit.’
Perdition, she was going to make him work for this! ‘Perhaps you have not properly considered your position, Miss Aston? We have just spent the night alone in this shed. When word gets out, as it most assuredly will, then your reputation will be beyond recall.’
She shrugged. ‘Since I have no intention of ever marrying, why should that matter?’
‘For you, perhaps it will not, but bear in mind your sister’s reputation will also suffer as a result, and with it her aspirations for making a good marriage.’
She glowered at him. ‘That was low, even by your standards.’
Marc spread his hands. ‘I am merely being truthful.’
‘Then we shall just have to ensure our unfortunate misadventure doesn’t become public knowledge.’
‘It grieves me to disagree with you—’
‘Does it?’
Marc strove for a patient tone. ‘It is unrealistic to suppose that we will be able to keep it from the ears and then the tongues of local gossips. The alarm will have been raised and a search will start at first light.’
She offered him a glittering smile. ‘I have it! Since you appear determined to marry and save my family from ruin, and since love doesn’t play a part in your noble sacrifice, why not offer for Charlotte instead of me?’
Marc shook his head decisively. ‘I think not.’
‘You don’t like her?’
‘She’s very beautiful.’
‘Yes, she is.’ Miss Aston appeared to take vicarious pride in her sister being admired, but did he also detect a moment’s envy flit through her expressive eyes? ‘But her inane chatter would drive me demented within weeks.’ He met her gaze, and held it. ‘There’s no help for it, Miss Aston. It is you I require for a wife, and I shall not be dissuaded from my purpose.’
‘Oh, this is preposterous!’ She threw up her hands. ‘You hardly know me. Besides, we don’t like one another.’
‘You are an acquired taste.’
‘Harrumph!’ Marc was amused rather than offended when she didn’t return the compliment. ‘I am not duchess material,’ she said instead.
‘Certainly you are.’
‘I would make a most unconventional one.’
His lips twitched. ‘I am a most unconventional duke.’
‘That is undeniable.’ She nibbled the end of her index finger, most likely trying to decide upon further objections. ‘Your family would have a fit of the vapours.’
He shrugged. ‘Most likely, but my family’s reaction doesn’t signify.’
‘By agreeing they would disapprove of me and my lowly connections, you are hardly likely to change my mind, Your Grace.’
‘You would prefer lies? I’m sorry to disappoint you, my dear, but if we are to spend the rest of our lives together, you might as well get used to the fact that I always tell the truth, even when it is unpalatable.’
‘Even when the situation calls for compliments?’
He sighed. ‘I have little experience of compliments.’
‘Ye gods, how can you contemplate spending the rest of your life with a woman you hardly know and have no feelings for?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s done all the time.’
‘Not in my world.’ She folded her arms across her breasts and turned away from him. ‘I cannot marry you, Your Grace. You thought me to be a scheming minx when we met in London. I find that difficult to overlook.’
‘It’s true I thought you had taken advantage of my uncle, and of Lady Calder too, but I know now that I was mistaken.’
‘And that is sufficient reason for you to want me for your wife?’ Again she sent her hair tumbling as she shook her head. She really shouldn’t do that. It had a most peculiar effect upon him. Unless she desisted, he would be sorely tempted to anticipate their wedding night, right here, right now, in this uncomfortable hut. ‘You must be insane!’
‘Nevertheless, you will agree to marry me when you hear my terms.’
‘You have terms?’ She briefly closed her eyes, causing her thick fringe of dark lashes to curl against her cheeks. He had never noticed a woman with such long lashes before and they fascinated him. If he was honest with himself, Miss Aston fascinated him. This was no false modesty on her part. She really didn’t want to marry him, which made him all the more determined that she should. ‘What are they?’
‘We shall marry, and you will bear my children. In return, you will be free to continue working in the cider mill, and I will supply the funds to perfect the brew that so eluded your father.’ He paused, fixed her with a steady gaze, and lowered his voice to a seductive purr because it was suddenly vital that he please her. ‘I know how important it is to you.’
She again opened her eyes very wide. ‘You…you would allow me to do that?’
‘Certainly I would. I would also appoint a lady to keep your mother company, and to curb your sister’s wilder traits, as well as arranging education for your brothers.’
She gasped. ‘You would?’
‘I would do all of that for my duchess. I imagine your brothers no longer have a tutor.’
‘I was obliged to part with him a
fter my father died and funds became tight.’ Her voice was distant, her expression dazed as she absorbed the generosity of his offer. ‘Charlotte is supposed to oversee their lessons while I work in the cider mill.’
‘But she can’t get Tom to pay attention?’
‘Uncle Frederick had spoken of sending them away to school. Now the dire Mr. Binstead is on the point of persuading Mama to include them in the parish school.’
Marc frowned. ‘Who the devil is Binstead?’
She grimaced. ‘The parish beadle. He came here from London about three years ago and, for reasons I have never understood, became my father’s friend. I had supposed Papa to be a better judge of character than that. I find Mr. Binstead pompous, interfering, and far too full of himself, but no one else in my family shares that opinion.’ Harriet flapped a hand. ‘Papa eventually distanced himself from Mr. Binstead, although he wouldn’t tell me why. I was so pleased to see less of the man that I did not press him for his reasons.’
‘I don’t recall meeting Binstead. You must make him known to me.’ If he had some hold over his future wife’s family, Marc needed to know what it was.
‘Mr. Binstead was a frequent visitor, both to the cider mill and our dinner table until his disagreement with my father made him no longer welcome. But since Papa’s death, he has inflicted himself upon us again, and my mother is flattered by his attentions. He also tries to interfere with my management of the cider mill,’ she added indignantly, ‘even though he knows nothing about it.’
Marc flashed a rare smile. ‘I don’t imagine that gets him very far.’
She blinked up at him. ‘Pardon me, but did you just smile at me, Your Grace?’
‘I believe I did, Miss Aston.’
‘But you never smile.’ She canted her head and frowned, indulging in that rather endearing habit of hers of nibbling her index finger. ‘Why do you never smile?’
‘I smile when I have something to smile about. In my view, people smile far too readily in much the same way that they talk when they have nothing interesting to say.’
‘The world would be very quiet and very dull if people only spoke when they actually had something worth saying. And smiling is a social more. It’s one way for civilized people to communicate. I shouldn’t have to tell you that. Besides, smiling suits you. Your entire face changes when you smile. You no longer look quite so disagreeable.’
‘Then I shall smile at you more frequently, if it makes you happy.’
‘You shall not get the opportunity, Your Grace, since we won’t be alone after today.’
‘Are you still maintaining we won’t marry?’
‘Indeed I am, in spite of your very generous offer, for which I do thank you, of course.’
‘Tell me more about Binstead.’
‘There’s not much more to say, other than that I neither like nor trust him.’
‘Has it occurred to you that he might simply enjoy your mother’s society? She’s an attractive woman, and he is trying to make a good impression upon her by being helpful.’ Harriet wrinkled her nose. ‘Is that not what men who fancy themselves in love do?’
She flashed him a wry smile. ‘How would you know?’
‘A good point bluntly made, Miss Aston. That is why I phrased it as a question.’ He smiled again, this time more of a challenge to further barbed repartee.
‘Well, the boys most certainly won’t be admitted to that seminary of thievery he refers to as a school. Not while I have breath in my body to prevent it.’
‘Then my alternative suggestion ought to be more attractive still. A tutor at Matlock House would better suit the boys. One who would not be averse to beating Tom if he does not attend to his lessons.’
Harriet let out a cry of protest. ‘Tom can be a little high spirited at times, but beating him is not the answer.’
‘It will do him no harm. I was frequently beaten and am none the worse for the experience.’
‘That is a matter of opinion,’ she muttered, a mutinous expression on her face.
‘We are wasting time, Miss Aston.’ Marc turned to face her. ‘Now, what do you say?’
‘I say no thank you, Your Grace. I am very conscious of the honour you have shown me, but we would not suit. Besides, if I might be blunt—’
His lips twitched. ‘When are you not? It is one of your most refreshing characteristics.’
‘Most would give you an argument on that score. However, we digress. I can’t believe you would do all of that for me without expecting something in return.’
‘What I expect in return is for the marriage to be consummated…repeatedly,’ he said with the ghost of a smile. ‘And for you to spend two days a week at Endersby. The rest of the time you will be free to oversee the work at Matlock House, and you have my word that I will not interfere with it.’
He could see that she couldn’t quite believe the generosity of his offer, but in the end she shook her head, still refusing to be swayed. With a sigh, he decided there was only one way to convince her. The more she refused him, the more determined he became to have her. Her continued obstinacy in avoiding the practicalities of her situation aroused him, convincing him she was the only woman who would make him an acceptable wife. Harriet Aston wasn’t high-born, but his situation would ensure her acceptance by most of society. Not that he gave two figs if they were shunned, and he was damned if he would permit society’s opinion to influence him.
She had moved as far away from him as the confines of the small shed permitted, arms folded defensively, her back towards him. He crossed the space that separated them, placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until she was compelled to face him. Her eyes regarded him with a wary expression, but he was encouraged when she didn’t seek to evade him. He pulled her into his arms and, deciding to influence her through deeds rather than words, lowered his lips slowly towards hers.
He kissed her, not gently but with harsh assurance, crushing her lips with a searing intensity designed to ignite the passions he was certain lurked beneath her prim exterior. It took mere seconds for her struggles to cease and her lips to soften beneath his. He felt mildly euphoric as he forced them apart and commenced a lazy journey of exploration with his tongue. He had wanted to claim her lush, generous mouth since first setting eyes on her, even though his opinion of her at the time hadn’t been nearly as admiring as it was now. He closed his arms tightly around her as he deepened the kiss, and allowed her to feel the extent of his desire pressing against her through their clothing. Elation surged through him as a sigh escaped their fused lips and her body melted against his. It was at that point he sensed his control slipping and abruptly released her, looking down into emerald eyes clouded with confusion.
‘Now what is your answer?’
‘Nothing has changed.’ She moved away from him. ‘I never intended to marry, unless I fell deeply and helplessly in love. I simply cannot marry a man who doesn’t love me, and whom I don’t love in return.’
‘You little fool! What has love to do with the matter?’
‘Everything. You are dictatorial, tyrannical, and dull,’ she flung at him, ‘and I would die before I allowed you to control me.’
‘But I already control you.’
‘Perhaps, but that’s different—’ She paused, cocking her head to one side. ‘Did you hear something?’
He opened the door and saw Giles and Sanderson in the distance, calling their names and heading in their direction. Miss Aston stuck her head around the door frame, saw them also, and groaned.
‘Oh Lord!’ she removed her head from sight. ‘Why must it be Sanderson?’
Marc took in her appalled expression and actually smiled. ‘Now you have little choice but to accept my offer,’ he whispered, looking pointedly at her crumpled clothing and then at his own. ‘Do you imagine Sanderson will pass up such a prime opportunity to exact revenge upon your family?’
‘He will if he values his position.’
‘But I have already told you I
don’t intend to dismiss him yet. Besides, if I were to do so there would be nothing to stop him making as much mischief as he likes with the information now in his possession.’
‘We slept here all night, and I fell in the stream. Of course my clothing is rumpled.’
‘Ah, but that doesn’t explain your swollen lips.’ He ran a finger softly along the lips in question. ‘Or the fact that you look as though you’ve just been thoroughly kissed.’
‘Oh, you don’t fight fair!’
‘Not when there’s something I want. And what I very much want, sweet Harriet, is you for my duchess.’ He parried her proud glance with an amused chuckle. ‘Cheer up, m’dear, it won’t be so very bad.’
‘I hate you!’
‘How does it feel to be betrothed?’ he asked in a velvety undertone, enjoying himself more than he had for a very long time.
‘The same way you must have felt when you bit into that apple last night,’ she responded morosely. ‘Bittersweet.’
Chapter Eight
Sanderson expressed relief at discovering them unharmed, but Harriet could see he was having difficulty suppressing his glee. The duke had been absolutely right about that, damn him!
‘Thank goodness we have found you safe.’ Lord Merrow wrapped a blanket round Harriet’s shaking shoulders. ‘What happened to you? Your mother has been beside herself.’
‘Miss Aston slipped from the wooden bridge and hit her head,’ the duke explained. ‘Do you have means of transport to hand, Giles? I don’t think she’s up to walking the long distance back to the house.’
‘Yes, a gig on the path over yonder. Can you make it that far, Miss Aston?’
Without giving Harriet the opportunity to respond, the duke gathered her in his arms and carried her to the conveyance. She averted her face from Lord Merrow and Sanderson, but not so fast that she didn’t see Lord Merrow’s raised brows, or Sanderson’s expression of malicious glee at His Grace’s predatory behaviour.
In spite of what he seemed to think, she had not agreed to his ridiculous proposal, and nor would she. Part of her couldn’t help feeling flattered, but she knew he was only acting out of chivalry, and when he had time to consider the matter he would realise she was right. No one would care that they had spent the night together, and he had no need to throw himself away on her. But perhaps, in return for not holding him to his word when he decided he had made a mistake, he would allow her more time to turn the cider mill around.
A Duke by Default: Dangerous Dukes Vol 3 Page 9