Never Say Duke

by Erica Ridley

Chapter 11

  Virginia had come to think of the Duke of Azureford’s cottage as a second nest.

  For days, Theodore had been taking extra care of her. After a whirlwind fortnight of sleigh rides, lazy afternoons, and romantic dinners, the sting of Virginia’s parents writing her off as dead had begun to fade. No matter what her family wished, she was very much alive. And happier than she’d ever been back then.

  Theodore was incredibly sweet and considerate. What had begun as afternoon constitutionals had turned into all day affairs lasting well past sundown. Her only complaint was that her time with him could not last forever.

  His knee was about as healed as it would ever get. Once Theodore realized he would never be rid of the brace, he would also realize there was nothing else Virginia could do for him. No reason to stay in Christmas. Back home, he had people who loved him, missed him, worried about him.

  He belonged elsewhere. And so did she.

  She rose from the chaise longue they’d been sharing in his private parlor. “It’s late. I should go.”

  “Wait.” His fingertips brushed her arm. “I’ve been working up to something all week. I wanted to wait until I could do this.”

  He unhooked his leg brace and placed it on the floor.

  Virginia watched as he rose to his feet, favoring his good leg.

  She forced a smile and gestured at the discarded brace. “If you don’t need that, you no longer need me. Is that what you wanted me to see?”

  “The opposite.” His dark gaze focused on her. “I’m trying to do this right.”

  He dropped to bended knee. Although Theodore could not hide a wince of pain, he did not budge from the uncomfortable position. Instead, he reached for her hand.

  “Miss Virginia Underwood,” he began, his voice low and warm.

  “W-wait,” she stammered, her words faint. “What is happening?”

  “I’m proposing,” he whispered. “Be quiet until I finish. This bit is nerve-wracking.”

  Her lungs caught. He couldn’t be proposing. Not to her. No one wanted to keep her. Yet her pounding heart wanted so much to believe.

  “Miss Virginia Underwood,” he said again. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hands then placed her fingers to his chest. “Please say that you will make me the happiest of men and become my wife, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, now and forevermore.”

  The backs of her eyes pricked. She was too lightheaded to process what this might mean.

  “It was a short proposal,” he whispered. “You can talk now.”

  Virginia doubted she could do any such thing. She was thrilled and terrified, hopeful and dumbfounded. Her heart was exploding. She’d dreaded having to continue without Theodore, but had never truly entertained the possibility of becoming his wife. This was either a dream come true or a nightmare.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “You can’t renege on the cat. If you want to see Duke again, you have to accept me, too.”

  A startled laugh escaped her tight throat. “I loaned Duke.”

  “Until I’m completely healed,” he reminded her. “These scars are here to stay. I suspect the brace is, too. I’m sorry, darling. You fell for the oldest trick in the book.”

  She tilted her head. “You read books about stealing a woman’s cat in order to trick her into marrying you?”

  “Practical battle tactics,” he assured her. “When you marry me, I’ll share my library, too.”

  His library… in the middle of London. The one city she never wished to see again, and that definitely would not welcome her.

  “I haven’t agreed to anything,” she stammered.

  He hiccupped.

  She blinked.

  He hiccupped again.

  “Damn it.” He yanked off his cravat and placed it in front of his mouth as though to muffle the sound. “My very first proposal is the worst one in hic—history.”

  After another hiccup, he clamped his mouth shut tight.

  Virginia recognized his fierce expression. He was reciting his favorite poem to try to make the hiccups go away.

  She’d read his book. She hated that poem. There was another she liked much better. She quoted it aloud:

  “I love the moon's pure, holy light,

  Pour'd on the calm, sequester'd stream;

  The gale, fresh from the wings of night,

  Which drinks the early solar beam;

  * * *

  The smile of heaven, when storms subside,

  When the moist clouds first break away;

  The sober tints of even-tide,

  Ere yet forgotten by the day.

  * * *

  Such sights, such sounds, my fancy please,

  And set my wearied spirit free:

  And one who takes delight in these,

  Can never fail of loving thee!”

  He stared at her in awe. “You memorized one of Miss Bethem’s poems?”

  “I memorized all of them.” She clasped her hands to her chest. It worked! “Your hiccups are gone.”

  “Your selection worked faster than mine.” His brown eyes shone. “I was right to give you that book.”

  Virginia frowned. “You loaned it to me.”

  “I gave it to you,” he said firmly.

  She shook her head. “It’s an extension of your soul. You can’t give away your most precious possession.”

  He took her hands again. “If you come with me, I can have both my favorite things.”

  There was nothing she wanted more than Theodore as her husband. But he hated gossip and needed to keep his reputation. To him, she would be an embarrassment and an albatross. Living like that would destroy her; would destroy them. It couldn’t last.

  “Marriage is impossible,” she said, her voice small and miserable. “Surely you see that.”

  He tightened his hold on her hands. “You accepted me just as I am. Why can’t you do the same for yourself?”

  Was it possible? Did he truly see her, just as she was, and want her anyway?

  “I’m hopeless in social situations,” she stammered. “I don’t want to anger you or hurt you or embarrass you—”

  “In case it wasn’t clear,” Theodore said with a crooked smile, “I am, at this very moment, extremely embarrassed that my heartfelt proposal has not solicited a definitive answer, much less the ‘yes’ I was hoping for. If you’ll promise me your hand, I won’t care about the rest. I don’t want to wed High Society. I want to marry you.”

  Her heart leapt. Might they be able to find some way it could work?

  “We wouldn’t need to go to London until you inherit?” she suggested hopefully.

  He shook his head. “I have to be in London at least part of the year. But I would never force you into that world all at once. We can practice, little by little, so that you’ll be comfortable when it’s time.”

  Virginia’s skin itched. “You make it sound as easy as exercising a wounded limb until it works again.”

  “Easy?” His brows lifted. “It’ll be exactly that hard. But I managed. So have all the strays you’ve helped over the years. So can you.”

  Her chest tightened. Could she bear returning to London? This time, she would not be alone. Theodore would be by her side. So would her closest friends, who also planned to spend their Seasons in London.

  She drew a shaky breath. “Do we have to attend mad crushes?”

  “You don’t have to do a single thing unless you wish to,” Theodore promised. “Attend what you like. Stay home when you like. Speak with whom you like. Ignore whom you like.” He pressed a kiss to her fingers. “As long as it isn’t me. I intend to be right next to you, no matter where you are.”

  Her breath caught at the picture he painted.

  “Just tell me what you need, and it will be yours.” He set his jaw. “I’ll rent Almack’s on a Tuesday so that we have it all to ourselves. If there’s a play you fancy, I’ll purchase every seat in the theatre.” His eye
s twinkled. “I’ll even share my private folly overlooking my favorite pond.”

  Despite herself, the corners of Virginia’s mouth twitched. “You say that now.”

  “And I will mean it forever.” He pressed her hands to his heart. “I have never broken my word, nor would I ever break wedding vows. I promise you now your home will always be with me, come what may. But only if you want me, too.”

  Want him? She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him with all the love in her heart.

  This man was her first thought every morning; her last thought every night. The promise of having him not just in her thoughts but right there in her arms, in her bed, in her body… Her pulse skipped with desire and excitement. Home would be right here in Theodore’s embrace. Her heart soared as joy flooded her. Soon, they would belong to each other.

  “Wait,” she gasped and forced herself to pull away.

  He touched his forehead to hers. “Not until we’re married?”

  “Not until we’re betrothed.” Her stomach tightened.

  He pulled back. “That wasn’t a yes?”

  Virginia took a deep breath. “I cannot accept your proposal until Lady Beatrice knows she won’t be receiving one.”

  He frowned. “She knows there’s no contract. Her father schemed with mine, but I never once said—”

  She stopped him. “There are all sorts of promises a person can make without saying a word.”

  Theodore’s expression was blank. Virginia tried to make him see.

  “My parents never verbally promised to love me and look out for me, but I believed it, and was destroyed when I was wrong.” She shuddered at the memory. “Even if you never made Lady Beatrice an explicit promise, she believes she is your future wife, and you know she thinks so.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “You’re right. Our fathers tried to plan our lives when we were children. Now that we’re adults, it’s time we plan our own. I will speak to her.” He lifted his dark gaze. “Might you perhaps provisionally accept in the meantime?”

  “I promise to give you a proper answer when you’re truly free to ask.”

  “Then I can get up off my knee?”

  “Up off your knee at once, you addlepate.” She tugged him from the floor to the chaise longue.

  As he fell back against the cushions, he pulled her with him and cradled her in his arms.

  Virginia snuggled into Theodore and tried to calm her erratically pounding pulse. She wanted nothing more than to say yes to his proposal, to believe they had a future together, that happiness was something they could have.

  The truth was, there was no way to know what the future held. Her only option was to do the one thing she had sworn never to do again: trust someone with her heart.

  Chapter 12

  When Virginia awoke, she was not tucked away in her castle guest chamber but curled against Theodore’s chest. Her eyes widened. They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.

  They lay fully clothed on his chaise longue, not tangled naked in the middle of his bed, yet she could not help but suspect those mornings would begin much like this one. Warm and safe, her cheek nestled next to Theodore’s heart. She had no interest in disturbing his slumber.

  Excitement coursed through her. The past dozen hours had turned her world on its ear. Not just accidentally spending the night with a ton gentleman, but being proposed to. She was almost betrothed. No one would believe it. Virginia could scarce credit the miracle herself.

  The moment was too wonderful. She reveled in Theodore’s strength, his heat, his scent. No one at the castle would notice her failure to come home. But once she married, that would never be true again. They would start and end every day in each other’s arms. She would belong.

  Her chest filled with joy. She had never believed a happy ever after existed in her future, but it was starting right now. Her life with him would—

  Loud bangs crashed against the knocker without cease.

  Virginia winced. Someone had come looking for her. One of her friends, no doubt. How had she believed her indiscretion would go unnoticed?

  She eased out of Theodore’s arms and down the corridor without bothering to shake out her skirts or fix her matted hair. There was no fresh gown to change into, and besides, her friends saw each other in worse dishabille than this when they slept in one another’s homes and stayed up all night. Now they would definitely have something to talk about.

  Virginia came to a standstill. The woman standing just inside the entryway was not a familiar face at all.

  This exquisitely dressed young lady—flanked by a pair of equally elegant lady’s maids—wore a fur-trimmed pelisse, a bejeweled gold tiara atop perfect blonde ringlets, and an expression of pure contempt.

  “What do you mean he is not receiving?” The woman’s tone was baffled. “I’ve traveled for days to be reunited with my intended. Surely you don’t mean to send me away without a chance to speak with him?”

  Virginia’s heart dropped. Lady Beatrice. It could be no one else.

  She stepped forward.

  Lady Beatrice frowned. “Who are you?”

  “Miss Virginia Underwood,” Virginia stammered out of reflex.

  Her chest fluttered with panic. If typical ton interactions were difficult to navigate, this one had her completely at sixes and sevens.

  “Impossible.” Lady Beatrice shook her head. “I am acquainted with the Underwood girls. Their eldest sister died almost a decade ago.”

  Virginia did not answer. Her breath had been stolen away. There was the proof she hadn’t wanted. Her family had planned on never letting her back in their lives.

  Lady Beatrice’s eyes widened, as though taking in every aspect of Virginia’s person. The freckles that ran in the family. The same cheekbones, the same red-brown hair. There could be no doubt.

  “You’re alive?” she asked in confusion. “What in the world is going on? Why are you tucked away up here with—” Her cheeks flushed scarlet. “Oh. I see.”

  “No,” Virginia said quickly. “It isn’t what you think.”

  It was, in a way, much worse than what Lady Beatrice thought. Virginia wasn’t Theodore’s secret lover. He wanted her to be his wife. Or so he’d said.

  If the idea of marrying Theodore had sounded like a dream come true, Lady Beatrice’s presence had just awoken Virginia from her slumber. She was not the wicked witch of a fairy story, but a polite, pretty young lady who had traveled cross country to retrieve what was hers.

  Not only had Lady Beatrice spent her entire life expecting to wed Theodore, she had been bred from birth to be the perfect wife, the perfect hostess, the perfect marchioness. Lady Beatrice wasn’t some vague promise Theodore’s father had made. She was the sort of lady a future marquess needed by his side. The exact opposite of Virginia.

  Lady Beatrice wasn’t just the better choice. She was the only choice. One look at her, and Theodore would realize how close he’d come to a terrible mistake.

  “I’m sorry I tried to…” Virginia’s heart was breaking too much to continue.

  Even though walking away was the right path—the inevitable path—she hated to give up a single moment with Theodore. And yet they all knew a man like him could never choose a woman like her. She was too strange, too different, too embarrassing. It was better to leave of her own free will than to wait to be tossed aside.

  Legs shaking, she stumbled around elegant Lady Beatrice and her equally elegant maids toward the door.

  Lady Beatrice’s gaze jerked up and her face blanched. “Ormondton, your face… Oh, and your leg!”

  “Virginia,” Theodore’s voice growled. “Wait. I will not—”

  “No.” The words scratched from her throat as she spun around to face him. “It is I who will not. I cannot, and neither can you. Lady Beatrice is welcome in Society, and I am not. She belongs in your world, and I do not. She is your intended.” Virginia swallowed the lump in her throat. “Not me.”

  “His…”
Lady Beatrice’s jaw dropped. “You were going to marry her? What about your reputation? What about me?”

  “Don’t worry.” Virginia reached for the door. “You win.”

  Theodore limped forward. “I’m not a thing that can be won or lost. This isn’t a game.”

  “Of course ‘High Society’ is a game,” she said with a sigh. “You’re both players. I am not. Marrying each other is how you win. That’s why your fathers made the match. They wanted to ensure you made the right decision.”

  “My life is not his to run.” Theodore stepped forward. “Perhaps I’ll be fighting for his approval the rest of eternity, but I—”

  “You’re not even in that war.” Virginia wished he could see the truth. “Your father is fighting himself. He doesn’t hate you. He’s just scared.”

  Theodore scoffed. “Scared of what?”

  “Losing his worth.” She curled her trembling fingers into fists. “Admitting you’re ready means acknowledging his son doesn’t need him anymore. Of course he’s terrified. Nothing is worse than being disposable.”

  Chapter 13

  Nothing is worse than being disposable.

  When Virginia’s voice cracked, so did Theo’s heart. His stomach roiled. Misery was etched into every inch of Virginia’s face.

  He reached for her. “You have never been disposable.”

  “I have always been disposable,” she corrected with a humorless laugh. “Dreams only last until morning. I knew better than to fill my head with fantasies for this very reason. I’m not ‘good ton.’ I don’t fit in. And I can never be her. We had our make-believe. This is good-bye.”

  Virginia shoved open the door and walked out.

  “Wait.” Theo hurried down the front step, wincing at the impact on his knee. “Virginia!”

  Lady Beatrice grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”

  “After her!”

  Theo forced himself to stop and take a breath. Lady Beatrice was innocent. She deserved an explanation.

  “I’m sorry.” He turned to face her so that she could see the honesty in his eyes. “This is not what I meant to happen, or how I hoped to share the news.”