"Do you think I love you because of your title?"
"Of course not, but—"
"Would you not like me if you discovered my father was a gambler or a wastrel?" She continued, praying she could make him see the error of his ways. "Would you demand I leave Perryvale if it came out my mother was a common camp follower?"
Wyatt's expression grew inexplicably fierce. "Never," he vowed, his hand coming up to cover hers. "I would love you if you were the daughter of the devil himself."
For a moment Nia couldn't believe she had heard aright. But when Wyatt's mouth closed over hers in a kiss of searing passion, she knew her ears hadn't played her false. She returned his kiss with all the love and desire that burned inside her.
"Nia, I love you," he whispered urgently, holding her in a fierce embrace. "I love you more than anything in this world. Don't ever leave me, or I would die."
"My love." Nia felt more tears streaming down her cheeks, but she was too blissfully happy to care. She pressed herself closer, giving Wyatt all the love she'd held inside for so long.
He groaned softly as he felt her response. Her sweet touch was a balm to his tortured soul, and he accepted the comfort she offered with rising fervor. He wanted to make love to her more than he wanted to draw his next breath, but first there was something he must do. Giving her breasts one final caress, he managed to draw back. He met her dazed stare with stern determination.
"Marry me," he commanded, his voice shaking with desire. "If you love me, if my parentage truly doesn't matter, I want you to marry me the moment I can obtain a special license."
"M-marry you?" Nia's hopes soared even as her common sense made a belated appearance. "B-but that is impossible. You are a duke, and I am a governess. It would never do."
"Why?" he pressed, adroitly turning her own arguments against her. "You said you don't love me for my title. Do you mean you will refuse to marry me because of it?"
"Of course not!" Nia denied, straightening her spectacles with hands that weren't quite steady. "But you must know it can never be. Such a misalliance would cause a dreadful scandal."
Her sudden concern with the proprieties made Wyatt grin. "Since when have you cared a brass farthing what others might think?" he asked with indulgent amusement. "If you really cared for such nonsense, you'd never have crept into my carriage posing as a doxy. Enough prevaricating now," he warned when she opened her mouth to protest. "Are you going to marry me or not?"
Nia knew she should refuse; everything she had been raised to believe told her so. Wyatt had his duty, and she had hers, and even though they loved each other, she couldn't see how they could reconcile those conflicting responsibilities. Then she met his eyes, and the love and fear she saw there was all that mattered.
"Yes, Wyatt," she said softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his mouth. "I will marry you."
Wyatt gathered her against him, his eyes closing in relief. "I love you, Nia," he said, his arms holding her tight. "I pray you never have cause to regret that decision."
"I won't," she said, her hands tangling in his thick hair. "So long as you love me, I'll never regret anything."
They continued kissing, revelling in each other and in the joy of their love. Finally Wyatt forced himself to be practical, and drew away from her once more.
"I still think I should relinquish the title," he said. "It's not really mine, and—"
"Beg pardon, Your Grace, but it most certainly is."
A gruff voice sounded behind them, and Wyatt jerked around to find Hemsley standing there. "Hemsley!" He gave the agent a furious glare. "How long have you been watching us?"
"Not long, sir," Hemsley assured him, his rough face lit with a saucy grin. "Allow me to offer my felicitations on your marriage. The two of you are well-matched."
Nia ignored that. "What do you mean the title is his?" she demanded, peering around Wyatt's broad shoulder. "Have you proof that Elliott lied?"
"Aye." Hemsley drew a piece of paper from his jacket and examined it with studied care. "Elliott was your mother's lover, true enough, but you was born almost eighteen months after your uncle drove him off with his whip. He couldn't be your father."
Relief made Wyatt weak. "Are you certain?"
"As the grave. What's more, I've proof Elliott spent those eighteen months out of the country clerking at a shipping firm in Charleston. There is no way he could have continued his affair with your mother from that distance."
"Then he did lie," Wyatt said quietly, his arms slipping around Nia. "Perhaps he lied about everything from the start."
"There's no doubt in my mind," Nia said with a firm nod. "You are your father's son. You may not have his hair and eyes, but you have his chin. And his arrogance," she added challengingly, and was rewarded by his reluctant smile.
"Perhaps," he said, and for the first time in more years than he cared to remember, he felt a deep sense of peace.
Hemsley was wise enough to see he was de trop and slipped away, leaving Nia and Wyatt alone.
"What now?" Nia asked, after Wyatt had remained silent for several minutes.
"Now I ride to London and obtain a license from the courts," he said. "I should manage to make the trip and back in a day or so. Will that give you enough time to handle matters here?"
She drew away, her cheeks pinking with confusion. "I . . . you still wish to marry me?" she asked uncertainly.
He frowned. "Of course. I thought I'd made that obvious."
Her color deepened, but she was determined to do the honorable thing. "But at the time you made the offer you were still uncertain about your future. Now that you know—"
"Now that I know, I am more certain than ever that I want you in my life," he said firmly. "Blast it, Nia, if my title is all that's keeping you from marrying me, I'll renounce the damned thing tomorrow! Although I must warn you," he added with a sudden grin, "my cousin Amberstroke would then inherit, and he is the biggest idiot you can imagine. Do you really wish to see Perryvale in his dubious care?"
A slow smile spread across Nia's face as she finally accepted the reality of Wyatt's love. "No, I suppose I do not," she said, her arms once more twining around his neck as she tilted her face up to his. "Very well, Your Grace. I shall marry you, and then you may do your noble duty by Perryvale."
"Oh, I will, my angel, I will," he replied, his eyes bright with promise. "And since a duke's first duty to his estate is to guarantee the continuation of the line, you may be sure I intend carrying out those duties with the greatest of pleasure."
And he proceeded to demonstrate that willingness with stunning efficiency.
About the Author
A winner of The Romance Writers of America's Golden Heart Award for Best Regency for her very first novel, Joan Overfield has written 23 Regency Historical Romances. In addition, she has also written two time travel romances: the ground-breaking THE DOOR AJAR and its sequel, TIME'S TAPESTRY. In 2000 Romantic Times Magazine voted THE DOOR AJAR one of the top 100 Romances of all time. Joan has made several bestsellers lists and won numerous awards for her work, including A Career Achievement Award in Regency Romance from Romantic Times magazine.
A life-long Anglophile, Joan uses her degrees in History and English to conduct research in the fascinating and colorful Regency period and has compiled an impressive library. She has also taught numerous workshops on the period and the craft of writing, is a member of the Beau Monde writers group, and is currently working on her newest novel.
"Ms. Overfield's sense of romance is deliciously unerring." -- -- Romantic Times
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