Wagers of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You know, you have been spending rather a lot of time with Mr. Blake.” Eleanor looped two fingers on both hands and interlocked them over and over, her gaze cast low.

  Spread upon the table were various metal objects. Demeter didn’t know the significance of any of them—there were lots of cogs and strange looking coils and smooth plates of metal—but knowing Eleanor, within a few days it would be something beautiful or functional or would play a tune. The house was home to varying contraptions put together by her sister—some of them designed deliberately, some of them rather put together by accident.

  Demeter watched the movement of her sister’s fingers and tried to ignore the flutter of her heart at the mention of Blake. It took all her willpower not to sink onto the nearest chair to support her weak knees.

  Another meeting, another kiss. But what did it all mean?

  “You have no need to worry,” Demeter started.

  Eleanor’s gaze lifted to hers. “He’s a rake, Demeter. And you are...”

  “A wallflower. I know.” Entirely opposite and utterly unlikely to ever have a future together. Oh yes, she knew it all. It did not stop her foolish mind from leaping forward a hundred impossible steps, though. She bit back a sigh.

  “Actually, I meant that you are so lovely and kind, and he could take advantage of that.”

  “Do you really think me so foolish?” She said the words automatically, feeling her heckles rise.

  Perhaps she really was a fool. After all, what woman would share two kisses with the most renowned rake in England and picture anything other than a torrid affair? And even that was a foolish thought. Rakes did not have affairs with wallflowers.

  “You are one of the cleverest women I know.” Eleanor waved a hand. “But, Demeter, I know you think me rather in a world of my own…”

  “That is not—”

  “And with Chastity and Cassie married, it is just us two.”

  “W-well, yes—”

  “And you are older than me.”

  Demeter frowned. “I’m not certain—”

  Eleanor had always been closest to Cassie. They’d practically grown up together. However, she did not think of herself as completely ignorant to her sister’s ways. Eleanor was more bluestocking than wallflower, not caring if she hugged the walls at balls, and preferring her own pursuits. The past year, they muddled along quite nicely just the two of them. Today, though, she did not understand her one bit.

  “I do not wish to try to give you advice,” Eleanor said, “but I feel I must. Chastity would not be happy with me if I let this continue without speaking up.”

  “Let what happen, Eleanor? You have no need for concern.” The words felt a lie.

  She glanced toward the window as the doorbell rang. “I really think I do.”

  Scowling, Demeter moved to the window and pressed her palms to the windowsill, leaning forward to eye the front door. She couldn’t see who was there but she saw the brightly painted carriage pulling around the back of the building.

  Blake.

  She looked at Eleanor and winced inwardly when a knowing look came across her face. Her sister rose from the table and put a hand to her arm. “Just be careful, Demeter. A man like that does not get a reputation for nothing.”

  “I know,” Demeter whispered.

  “I shall find Aunt Sarah so she can be nearby. Goodness knows you are lucky Anton is not home. I doubt he would allow the man near you.”

  “I know,” she repeated huskily.

  And with Anton, she would put his response down to how blasted stuffy the man could be—but if Eleanor was warning her against him, she should heed it. Her sister had about the most rational mind amongst them all.

  Hands twined in front of her, she waited, gaze upon the half-open door. Her pulse throbbed so hard she felt it in her fingers. Each creak of a door and every footstep and murmur made it beat harder.

  She was hopeless. Eleanor had been too late with her warnings. As soon as Blake stepped into the room, her heart nearly leapt from her throat and flopped about the floor. Surely a man like Blake had endured enough hopelessly in love women to recognize her feelings for him? She straightened her shoulders and prayed her expression was as blank as she’d intended.

  He dipped his head in greeting and Aunt Sarah gave her a little wave, then flashed a bold grin as she dragged a chair deliberately into the corner of the room, wooden feet screeching across the floor, until she settled upon it, her back deliberately turned.

  Blake’s lips twitched and Demeter rolled her eyes.

  “I was not expecting you,” she started.

  “I—” he said simultaneously.

  She pressed her lips together and motioned for him to continue.

  “After you,” he said.

  She shook her head. “No, you.”

  “Very well. I—”

  The cat interrupted him with an insistent shove against his leg. He glanced down and even from her position by the window, she spied the white hair upon his dark trousers. “Simon,” she scolded.

  “Simon?”

  “My uncle.”

  Furrows appeared between his brows. “The cat...” He pointed at it while it circled his leg and nudged boldly against him again. “...is your uncle?”

  “Yes. I mean. No. Not exactly.”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I had to come urgently.” He closed the gap between them so quickly she forgot to take her next breath. “My cousin is on his way.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I fear he is to ask you something.”

  “Something?”

  His throat bobbed.

  “Demeter, you cannot say yes. No matter how...” He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Just do not say yes.”

  “Yes to what?”

  “He wants to marry you.”

  “Oh.” The words filtered in and she widened her eyes. “Oh!”

  ***

  Oh. Not ‘well that’s preposterous.’ Or ‘I would not say yes if he were the last man on earth’. Not even a disgusted look.

  Fear beat in Blake’s chest so hard it felt like a bird trying to escape its cage. Which was more preposterous than Mr. Foster asking her to marry him. She’d never say yes, surely? Not with everything they, well, knew. Sort of. Not with her having witnessed beneath his disguise.

  Not with his instincts.

  Not after their kiss...

  No, that had nothing to do with this matter. What was most important was that Demeter did not, under any circumstances say yes.

  “He is on his way...right now?” she asked, motioning with a finger.

  “Yes. I saw his carriage on Oxford Street.”

  “Well, I do not see how that means…”

  “He was purchasing something,” he said irritably. A gift for Demeter, the driver said. Blake had to force himself not to curl a fist. Of course Demeter deserved gifts—hundreds of them if not thousands, but not from Foster.

  She held up a hand. “Why does that mean he wishes to ask me to marry him? Blake, you are making little sense.”

  “He’s on his way. The driver said so.”

  Creases furrowed her brow. “To ask me to marry him?”

  “I believe so.”

  “You believe so or you know so?”

  “My instincts—”

  “Blake, did your instincts also say that I might be desperate enough to say yes to a man I barely know? A man we have been investigating? A man who might well be a dangerous person?”

  “Well...” He glanced out of the window when he spotted a carriage roll by. There was no mistaking his cousin’s new carriage. The wings beat harder in his chest, creating a full-blown tempest. Foster couldn’t have her. No man could. He...

  He what? He’d kissed her twice. A foolish move indeed. Jacob Blake did not kiss innocent duke’s daughters. But it did not mean anything. He could hardly lay claim to her future nor her decisions.

  “I see.”
>
  He shifted his attention to her. She saw what? That he was a man in panic? Or that he had little idea quite what he’d intended when he marched in here to make demands of her. All he knew was he could not bear it if there was even the tiniest chance she might say yes.

  Her gaze dropped to the floor, her shoulders slumped. He closed his eyes briefly. Now he saw.

  What an ass.

  “Demeter...” He took a few steps closer. “I did not mean—”

  She lifted her chin. Her eyes were dim, as though he had put out the light in them. Now all he wanted to do was bring it back, preferably by kissing her. That’s when her face lit the most, warmed from within from his kisses.

  “I think you did,” she said softly. “You think me a desperate spinster who would say yes to such a man.”

  It wasn’t the truth. Not at all. It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might say yes out of some need to marry before it was too late. Now he realized what a truly terrible person he’d been. He’d never asked what she wanted from life, never questioned why she might do all the things she did or whether she did indeed want to settle one day and raise children—children who would know doubt follow in their mother’s footsteps and be as ridiculously smart and sneaky. All the time they’d spent together recently, and he did not know enough.

  He wanted to know more.

  Unfortunately, if he was to ever get to know her better, he would have to admit that his fear she’d say yes to his cousin was nothing to do with her situation and everything to do with his.

  He simply could not stand the thought of another man having her. He’d laugh aloud if he did not think Demeter would assume the laughter was directed at her. What right did he have to claim her? Since when did he ever feel jealousy?

  The door rang and his throat tightened.

  Since today apparently.

  He didn’t look away from Demeter, not even when he heard the door open behind him and footsteps enter. Her gaze darted behind him and before he could quite fathom what he had done, he was on one knee.

  Her eyes widened and he heard a gasp from behind him which he assumed was Aunt Sarah, given the pitch. Before his cousin could utter a word, he blurted the one question he never thought he’d say in his life.

  “Lady Demeter, will you marry me?”

  She put a hand to her mouth. His breath was loud in his ears. Simon the cat started licking a leg from his position on the windowsill and the sound of his little slurps were uncommonly loud. Time might well have stopped, he could not be certain. Nor could he scrabble through his faded thoughts. They were like mud—thick and hard to push through. He’d gone on instinct, his knee hitting the hard floor before he’d even thought through the action.

  “Demeter?” Aunt Sarah urged from behind him, her voice close.

  “I—” Demeter’s gaze searched his. She gave the tiniest of shrugs. “Yes...?”

  Aunt Sarah screamed. The cat leapt from the windowsill and barged past Blake. His heart gave a jolt so hard he wanted to demand smelling salts.

  “Yes?” he repeated.

  “I...suppose so?” Her eyes were wide and questioning. He didn’t blame her. Neither of them had anticipated such an action. He would have to think hard to make sense of it.

  Blake rose from his knee and smiled. “Excellent.” He twisted to find Foster and Aunt Sarah practically upon his heels.

  His cousin’s cheeks were redder than usual and his hard gaze belied a tight smile upon his lips. “I see I came at an opportune time. Congratulations, cousin. You could have told me of your intentions and I would not have invaded such a private moment.”

  “Ah, well...” Blake looked at Demeter. “It was not exactly planned but—”

  “When one is in love, one can never plan such things.” Aunt Sarah grabbed his face and kissed him on each cheek. “Dear handsome boy, you will be most welcome in this family.”

  He met Demeter’s uncertain gaze and gave her an apologetic smile. He’d dragged them both into something entirely unplanned and he wasn’t certain he could blame his instincts this time. Around Demeter, they did not seem to work properly at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  “You know, I think the newly engaged couple could do with a moment alone.”

  Demeter nodded vigorously as her aunt dragged Mr. Foster away. Slowly, she moved her attention from the empty doorway to Blake. He had scarcely moved since rising from one knee and his usually sun-kissed skin had a pale look to it.

  “W-why did you just do that?” she hissed. “Why?”

  “Well, it was—”

  “If you say instinct, I might well hurl this vase at your head.” She gestured toward the glass vase upon the bureau to her right.

  He grimaced. “You did not have to say yes.”

  “You wanted me to!” she protested. “I saw it in your eyes.”

  He shoved a hand through his hair and nodded. “I did.” He glanced around the empty room and moved closer.

  Her heart gave a silly, foolish skip. He’d proposed out of instinct and for some reason unknown to her yet. She’d given him the answer he wanted but as foolish as her heart was, she recognized his sudden action as one of necessity. She just could not quite fathom why he’d done it. As foolish as she was when it came to her feelings for Blake, she was not stupid enough to believe he genuinely wanted to wed her.

  “Well?”

  “My cousin—”

  “I was never going to say yes and you know that.”

  “Yes. Indeed.” He nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “So why?”

  Blake swept a hand through his hair again, leaving it in disarray. She wanted to press her fingers through the strands and feel the softness for herself. As a fiancée, surely she was at liberty to do so? Except none of this was real. It just couldn’t be.

  “Demeter—” He blew out a breath. “Foster is more dangerous than we fear. I’m certain of it.”

  “So you wished to protect me?”

  She folded her arms. Some sort of protection. Now she felt more exposed and fragile than ever. She was officially engaged to the man she’d loved for far too long. It could only end in disaster, surely?

  “Yes,” he said swiftly, color returning to his cheeks as though relieved to have any answer. “And, think on it, if we are engaged, it will make it much easier for us to talk with one another on the investigation.”

  “I thought you did not want me involved.”

  His lips tilted. “I am starting to realize that whether I want you involved or not, you will find some way of including yourself.”

  “Damned right.” She lifted her chin.

  His grin widened. “You’re sweet when you curse.”

  Well, that was annoying. She wasn’t going for sweet.

  “But what happens when...” She waved a hand vaguely. “You are hardly going to want to follow through with it, are you?”

  “Do not fear. I have no intention of forcing you into marriage with me.”

  Her heart dropped a little. Silly, silly girl. Of course he did not. Why did she expect anything different? Even if her heart did not know it, her mind knew they were not a good match for one another. He had all this experience and confidence and she had...?

  A penchant for clinging to walls and a stutter, she supposed. A love of flowers and dogs, and a hatred of attention. It was hardly going to be a love match, even if her heart longed for it.

  The fact was, no matter how much she wished they could be together, she wasn’t going to marry someone who did not love her in return.

  And her family—if Aunt Sarah’s reaction was anything to go by…

  “Blake, this i-i-is...” She sank onto the nearest chair, allowing the cushions to cradle her suddenly weary body. Her heart hadn’t slowed since he’d dropped to one knee. “This is a mess. Why did you do that?”

  “I told you...to protect you.”

  She cocked her head. “I did not need protecting.”

  “You saw my cousin’s change
in behavior. And now he thinks the two of you should be together.” His mouth thinned into a grim line. “We do not need him watching you closely, Demeter. I truly think he could be dangerous. A man that can put on such an act simply has to be.”

  “You know, you only have my word that he behaved so. You have never seen it for yourself.”

  His lips curved. “It’s a good thing I trust you implicitly, sweeting.”

  Demeter stared at him for a few moments, eyeing his open expression. The whole reason her mother had started the investigative society was because women were so often not trusted. Even hired investigators refused to take their word. Over the years, Demeter did not disagree with her mother. Time and again the words of women were doubted. Yet it never occurred to Blake to mistrust her. Despite the muddle they were in, she appreciated that about him.

  “So when this is over...” She gestured between them with a finger.

  “You can end things with me,” he said, as though it was the simplest suggestion in the world. “Your reputation will remain unscathed and people shall likely believe I was at fault.”

  “You do not mind that people will assume the worst of you?”

  He smirked. “People already do. A little additional gossip will not hurt.”

  “And in the meantime...we pretend to be engaged.” She dropped her head into her hands. “This farce is not going to be easy to explain to anyone,” she muttered against her hands.

  “I am irresistible,” he reminded her.

  She lifted her head slowly and tried to ignore the flash of a grin that made her grateful to be seated. “And I am a wallflower. No one shall understand why you asked me.”

  Blake stepped over to her and dropped onto his haunches, then put a hand to her knee. “Everyone shall think me the cleverest man in all of London.”

  She snorted.

  “They shall be jealous that I saw what they did not. They shall all be eaten up inside that the prettiest woman in the world with the most glorious hair and the quickest mind said yes to me.” He flicked a finger over her nose. “Trust me. No one shall question it, sweeting.”

  When she studied his expression, she saw no sign of a lie. That dimple quirked in his cheek and his full lips were temptingly close. If he was really her fiancé, she would have leaned in and kissed him. By some miracle, she held herself back. She believed him—no one would question it. But if she was not careful, she too might believe there was something more than a phony engagement occurring.