The Heiress Gets a Duke

by Harper St. George

  Had he chosen her? The knowing look on Lady Helena’s face seemed to suggest as much. August’s heart sped up, and her lungs seemed to shrink. “Do you think . . . ?”

  No! It wasn’t possible.

  But Lady Helena was nodding. “He chose you, dear.”

  Everything inside her screamed that it wasn’t true. That he hadn’t meant to choose her. That he’d only danced with her out of courtesy because Violet wasn’t available. But none of that explained why he had only offered the mildest greeting to her sister.

  The room had become stifling and the air too thick. August took in a breath, but it did nothing to stop the spinning of the room. “Excuse me.”

  “You poor thing,” said Lady Helena as she clucked her tongue softly. “Shall we go to the dressing room?”

  August nodded but waved both her and Violet off when they moved to come with her. “Please . . . I need a few minutes alone.” What she actually needed was to find Rothschild and make certain Lady Helena was mistaken. He had only not asked Violet to dance because August had requested it.

  “That’s fine. We’ll be along in a little while,” Violet said as she watched her with worried eyes.

  The crowd had filled back in the swath he had cut through them, making the journey to the entrance slow and tedious. Everyone paused to watch her as she passed, the weight of their gazes seeming to make the trip even longer. She cursed them, but she cursed him more. If there were any justice in the world, Rothschild would find his carriage caught up in the snarl of traffic outside and still be waiting. If she was lucky, she would be able to catch a moment alone with him.

  Her heels echoed off the oak floors between the Persian carpets as with each step toward the front stairs she rediscovered the anger that vanished when he had held her. Losing her head to him wasn’t a mistake she would allow herself to repeat. She would find him and give him a taste of that anger. How dare he presume to single her out? How dare he presume that she would accept this betrothal? If that’s even what he had meant.

  “Looking for me?”

  She whirled to see him lounging against the doorframe of a darkened room off to the side. His ankles were crossed as if he had been waiting for her this whole time. Satisfaction that she had found him warred with her displeasure that she had fallen into his trap so easily.

  “Yes.” Her voice was sharp as a whip, and she silently congratulated herself on that accomplishment. She would prove to him that she wasn’t some simpleton who turned to mush at a smile from him.

  He pushed the door beside him open further to reveal the spines of leather-wrapped books set into a bookshelf and flashed a grin at her before he disappeared inside. It was an obvious challenge, one she was eager to accept. Stiffening her posture, she made it all the way to the door before hesitating. Fingers of trepidation tickled their way down her spine. Somehow, she knew that her life would be irrevocably different after this conversation.

  But knowing him had already changed her in ways she couldn’t articulate. It was too late to turn back now. Taking one last look around to make certain that no one saw, she followed him into the room and pushed the door closed behind her.

  Chapter 9

  It is always incomprehensible to a man that a woman should ever refuse an offer of marriage.

  Jane Austen

  The very air in the room altered when she entered. She was simply stunning wrapped in her Worth gown and her confidence. She pulled the door closed behind her, her chin parallel with the floor and her shoulders squared to face him. It was almost as if she had been born to be a duchess.

  “You are angry with me.” Noting the way her small hand kept a secure hold of the doorknob as if she intended to leave at the first sign of trouble, he stayed where he was so that he would not frighten her. He wanted many things from the woman before him, but her fear was not one of them.

  Eyes bright with her fury, she said, “Of course I am. Do you have any idea what you have done?”

  Even though he knew that it would only goad her, he could not stop the smile from twisting his lips. “I presume you mean the waltz?”

  “You know precisely what I mean. Everyone thinks that you intend to propose to me now instead of Violet.”

  It was terrible of him, but he could not resist himself when it came to her. Smiling widely now, he leaned a shoulder against a shelf and said, “You did ask me to not dance with her tonight, if I recall.”

  She violently let go of the doorknob, if such a thing was possible, and crossed her arms over her chest to pace the short distance to the low-burning fireplace. The library was a small but comfortable room with dark oak paneling and a seating area with several overstuffed chairs and low tables set before the fire. Aside from the bookcases framing the mantel, and the row of them at his back, they were the only furniture in the room. Had she kept the chairs between them because she feared being alone with him? A twinge of guilt made itself known that she was probably right.

  “I should have realized you would make this into another sparring match. Whatever your reasoning, you have made everyone believe that you intend to propose to me. Why would you do that?”

  She could not look directly at him when she asked that. Her gaze had settled somewhere along his ear. Interesting. Also of note, the color on her cheeks was higher than when she had walked into the room. Partially due to her anger but, he would be willing to bet, also because she was as attracted to him as he was to her. Watching the myriad of expressions on her lovely face during their waltz had made him suspect as much. Now he knew for certain.

  Tipping his head slightly to attempt to force her to meet his gaze, he explained, “Perhaps because I do mean to propose to you. Have you considered that?” He was surprised to find that his heart was pounding with those words.

  Breath lodged in her chest as she jerked to meet his gaze. “What? No.” Her lips parted as she appeared to struggle to form her next words. “I . . . I do not accept.”

  Not yet, but she would. “I have not proposed to you, yet.”

  Having overcome her apparent shock, she drew herself up. “That hardly matters. I won’t accept when you do, so you shouldn’t bother.”

  “Thank you for the fair warning, but I rather hope to change your mind.”

  She laughed at that. Laughed as if he were a lowly servant asking for her hand rather than a duke. “Impossible.”

  For the first time that night, a glimmer of anger burned in his chest. “I am a respected peer with four estates and—since I lack the requisite excessive weight and want of hair of others in my position—more than a passing attractiveness.”

  She took in a breath and closed her eyes briefly before catching him with that directness he found both enticing and unsettling. “The fact that you believe those are the only things that recommend you as a spouse is both troubling and sad.”

  He could only stare at her, taken aback by her opinion. “As troubling and sad as they may be to you, they are very sound reasons for marriage. Why would you not want to marry me?”

  Crossing her arms over her chest again, she asked, “Why on earth would I ever marry you? You truly cannot fathom a woman turning down your offer of marriage, can you? I do not intend to marry you, because I like my life as it is now. You have absolutely nothing to offer me.”

  He swallowed thickly as he silently acknowledged that she was right. If she was not to be swayed by his title, estates, or handsome face, what else was there? If she were a proper aristocratic girl, the title alone might have been enough. He had never considered having to work so hard to secure a marriage, so he was momentarily flummoxed in the face of her logic.

  Was Leigh correct that coercion of some kind was the only way? Evan had hoped to avoid that, but the stakes were too high to simply hope for the best. The town house was the only unentailed property left. Without a betrothal in place by the end of the month, Clark had hint
ed there would be no choice but to sell it. Evan would be fine with that, except his mother would be crushed. All notion of politely sidestepping the obvious downfall of their family in society would be gone. Their fall would be gossip for the tabloids as well as the dining rooms across Mayfair and Belgravia. Louisa and Elizabeth would have no hope of a stable future.

  “Nothing is such a strong position.” He heard himself saying the words and moving forward without ever consciously thinking of what he was saying. “You like kissing me. The marriage bed will be no hardship for either of us.”

  Her lips parted, and this time he heard her gasp. As he wove around the chairs separating them, she took a step back until she came up against the bookcase. The soft flames of the fire lit up the rose of her cheeks and the interest in her eyes. They had fallen to rest on his mouth, much as his own gaze was eating up the sight of her soft lips. It was amazing how the simple reminder of their kiss had changed them both so fast.

  Dear God, to have her in bed beneath him would be one of the greatest accomplishments of his life.

  “That is hardly . . . That is no reason . . .” Her gaze moved back and forth between his eyes and his mouth as he came to a stop in front of her. Near enough to touch, but he did not dare take that path yet. “Are we like horses to you, then? Choose the mare you would prefer to breed and we all simply go along with your choice?”

  He managed to swallow down his laugh, even as her words made heat pulse in his veins. “That is not at all how I see this, and it is hardly fair to assume as much when I am willing to negotiate.”

  “Not fair?” The softness that had crept into her eyes was burned away by a new wave of anger. “You have some nerve speaking to me about fair play. None of this is fair. You decide you need money and then decide to marry to get it. Now you’ve decided that I will be your convenient bride, no matter how I feel about it.”

  This time he could not hide his laughter. “I assure you that you are anything but a convenient bride. You are the most stubborn and infuriating woman I have ever met. None of this up to now has been my decision.”

  Amazingly, she seemed mollified by that, and her posture relaxed by the slimmest degree.

  Capitalizing on the moment, he added, “Until you.”

  “Me?”

  “The debts are my father’s. The family honor rightfully belonged to my dutiful brother. My mother is the one who chose Violet.” He took the final step to reach her, closing the distance between them. The heat of her body warmed him as the fire could not. “I would have one thing that is mine. I would choose my own wife. I choose you.”

  “Why me?” Her voice was quiet.

  “Because I have never met anyone like you. Because I want to know you. Because you challenge me. People in my world marry for much less. For money, land, a name. I want you for you, Miss Crenshaw. That is far more than most people get.”

  It was as honest as he had ever been with anyone. Her wide eyes stared up into his, and for a moment he thought he saw mutual understanding. As much as he had never thought of marriage before, now that it was before him, he wanted to share it with her. To spend the rest of his life learning her.

  “Those are fine words, Rothschild. The only problem is that you are only saying them because I am packaged with the funds you so desperately need.”

  He would have given his eyeteeth in that moment to deny that was true. “Nonetheless, they are true words.”

  “Be that as it may, I will not be a pawn manipulated for money. When I do marry, it will be with a man who respects me for me and whom I can respect for his mind.” She pushed past him, and he closed his eyes at the jolt of attraction that tore through him.

  “Did you not hear me, Miss Crenshaw?” He turned to follow her progress toward the door. “I very much want you for your mind. You will challenge me in ways no other could.”

  She paused and glanced at him over her shoulder. The corner of her mouth turned up in a coy and infinitely attractive smile. “Yes, I understand that. Did you not hear me, Rothschild? I said that I require someone whom I can respect for his mind.”

  He stared at her, unable to decide if she had just called him unintelligent. He was aware that his mouth opened and closed several times, but he could not seem to stop it as he searched for the right words. No one had made him speechless before.

  Taking advantage, she came back to stand before him. “You were right about one thing, though.” Her blush covered her entire face now, and she glanced down once before steeling herself to meet his gaze. “We are very good with kissing, and I would very much like to do it again.”

  The sentence rattled around his head, trying and failing to coalesce into a coherent thought. Every time it tried to make sense, he would rearrange it again, unable to believe that she had said what he thought she said.

  “To do what?” he finally asked, rather daftly, which rankled after her previous statement. “You want me to kiss you?”

  If it were possible, her face became redder, but she stood her ground. Somewhere in the periphery of his vision, he became aware of her hands fisting the fabric of her skirts in nervous anticipation. She rolled her eyes and nodded.

  “Why?” Was he really belaboring this? It was foolish and it was merely his ego needing to be assuaged, but he wanted to hear her reason.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said on a breath. “Kiss me.” She took hold of his head, her fingers tightening in his hair as she pulled him toward her. Her breath was warm with the faint scent of champagne when he covered her lips with his. It was a soft press of their mouths, hardly enough to be a proper kiss, but he could feel her trembling. He drew back enough to see her long lashes fall against her cheeks as she closed her eyes, and her lips parted in silent invitation for more.

  It was an invitation he was powerless to resist. His mouth covered hers, this time molding to her lips with relish as his hands swept down her back to draw her to him. Her smaller frame fit against him perfectly. She made a soft mew of pleasure in the back of her throat and kissed him back. The soft and wet heat of her tongue answered the stroke of his, lighting a fire of need within him so strong that it raged out of control before he realized it was even there. Fierce desire swept down his spine, tightening his groin and settling low in the pit of his stomach. His mouth took everything she offered. Seconds, minutes, hours might have passed as he savored the sweetness of her mouth.

  Drawing back to take a breath, she whispered breathlessly, “We should stop.” Her gaze was drunk with need as it met his, and her lips were slightly swollen and wet from the kiss.

  “Why?”

  A crease formed between her brows, and her eyes darted down to his mouth. Slowly, he leaned down, closing the distance between them as he took her lips again. Another soft groan vibrated in the air between them. This time she pressed herself more tightly along his front. Even through the layers of her skirt, he was quite certain she must feel how much he wanted her.

  Overcome with the need to feel more of her, he lifted her against him enough to walk her backward to the bookcase by the door. Kissing her felt lush and extravagant. Her mouth was hot and wicked, demanding and indulgent. She was obviously inexperienced but eager to learn from him. When his teeth scraped against her bottom lip, she sighed in pleasure and then did the same to him. When he sucked at her tongue, she returned the favor, making his cock throb with the echo of what it must feel like to be inside her.

  His hand moved over her waist and up to cup her breast; the hard pebble of her nipple pressed into his palm through layers of fabric. She arched into his touch, and his mouth watered to lick the salt from her skin. His thumb moved over the sensitive peak, which had her hips pushing against him.

  “This shouldn’t go further,” she whispered, covering his hand with hers. She was breathless and not at all in control of herself. Gratification welled within him at how kissing him affected her. If nothing els
e, she could not deny that she wanted him.

  “No.” He agreed. It was one thing to kiss her at a ball. It was entirely too much to take anything more, yet he could not seem to listen to reason when it came to her and kissing. “You should go.” He took her mouth again in an endless string of kisses, his hips pressed against her of their own accord. It was exquisite torture when she moved, grinding his erection between them. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Maybe one more minute.”

  He groaned. Her hand stayed over his, but she pressed his palm against her. Jesus. This woman set him on fire. His fingers skimmed the edge of her bodice, hoping there was enough give to touch her, and there was. He nearly fell to his knees in thanks when the fabric gave way the slightest bit so that his fingers could slip inside. She made a sensual gasp when he found her erect nipple, catching it gently between two fingers. He dipped his head and pushed the silk aside as his mouth found her, his tongue torturing the rigid nub before sucking it into his mouth.

  She arched into him and gave a cry of surprise and pleasure. She grabbed onto his shoulders, holding him tight against her. “Rothschild,” she whispered against his ear.

  Something wild and elemental came over him. He imagined her beneath him and crying out his name. The tight clasp of her body welcoming his cock as he took her over and over again. A rough groan escaped him as he took her mouth again, her naked breast in his palm as he ground his cock against her hip. His thigh found its way between hers, pressing against the heat he knew he would find there. If the way she moved against him, all but riding him, was any indication, she was as aroused as he was. He wanted to feel her on his fingers and started to pull up her skirts.

  If he sat in one of the chairs and pulled her onto his lap, he could open her thighs and bring her to pleasure. He pulled back to stare down into her face. Her eyes were glazed over and dilated, and he realized that she had given herself completely over to him. She trusted him. His fingers fumbled in their intent, touching the smooth silk of stocking at her knee. Gently and reverently, he placed a kiss at the base of her neck above her pulse. Somewhere in the background a very unwelcome and indistinct voice penetrated the fog of his arousal.