The Duke's Dilemma

by Nadine Miller

  He stepped forward to take her in his arms and seal their betrothal with a kiss—but to his surprise, she retreated behind a nearby loveseat. “I thank you for the honor you have bestowed on me, your grace,” she said through gritted teeth. “But I cannot bring myself to take it seriously. For I have no desire to spend the rest of my life hobnobbing with the aristocracy.”

  Jared felt a twinge of uneasiness. It was not like Emily to play coy. If he didn’t know better, he would almost think she was refusing him. “You have no choice in the matter,” he said sternly. “Nor do I. We are involved in a scandal. Only marriage will save you from utter ruin.”

  “Utter ruin in whose eyes? The ton? I say fie on the ton. What do I care for the opinions of people whose only reason for their purposeless existence is their own gratification.”

  Jared’s uneasiness accelerated noticeably. This was not going as he had planned.

  “Devil take it, Emily, you would not lead such a useless existence as my wife. You could become involved in any number of charities and I have numerous estates which need a mistress.” He could see from the expression on her face that the use of the word “mistress,” even in the most innocent of connotations, had been a mistake.

  “And that’s another thing,” Emily declared. “When I marry it will be to a man who loves me and me alone. I have no desire to share him with a mistress, as is common in the marriages of the aristocracy.”

  “If you are referring to Lady Crawley,” he said stiffly, “we have gone our separate ways as of last evening. I am not in favor of so-called ‘modern marriages.’ My own parents’ example was enough to sicken me on that score. Besides,” he added in an attempt to lighten the mood, “I do not think I shall be in need of a mistress once we are married, little firebrand.”

  Emily ignored his attempt at levity. She searched his face with wide, inquisitive eyes. “Did you love her?”

  “Carolyn? No, I did not love her if you are referring to the kind. of emotional rubbish your Mrs. Radcliffe portrays in her novels. Ours was a practical arrangement.”

  “But you made love to her, probably hundreds of times in the years she was your mistress. You strike me as a man with strong appetites.”

  “This does not strike me as a conversation I should be having with my future duchess,” Jared said, attempting to look more shocked than he actually felt. He could see he was going to have the kind of frank and open relationship with Emily that few men of his social status enjoyed with their wives. The idea did not displease him in the least.

  He scowled as fiercely as he could manage, considering how close he was to laughing at his impertinent little bluestocking. “What, may I ask. is the purpose of this inquisition, Miss Haliburton?”

  Emily ‘s cheeks were flushed, her eyes almost too bright. “The purpose is to determine your attitude toward love. You don’t even believe in it, do you?”

  He was tempted to lie to her. Somehow he couldn’t. There had already been too many lies between them. “No, Emily,” he said gently. “I do not. I am afraid such fantasies were bred out of my bloodline shortly after my ancestors crossed the Channel. But if I were capable of believing in fairy tales, I am sure you would be the woman who would inspire me to do so. For I desire you more than I have ever desired any other woman. Is that not sufficient to ease your mind?”

  “No, your grace, it is not. For I do believe in love, you see, and I will marry for no other reason—be he a duke or the most impoverished of country vicars..”

  She swiped viciously at the tears coursing down her cheeks. “Therefore, I must respectfully decline your most generous offer, for I can see we really would not suit at all.”

  She was sobbing in earnest now and her breasts heaved with the exertion. “You should marry another jaded sophisticate like yourself,” she gasped through great, choking breaths. “That way neither of you would have expectations the other could not fulfill.”

  “What have you done, you foolish girl? How could you refuse the Duke of Montford?” Lady Sophia looked on the verge of apoplexy. “All our hard work for naught! I swear I could shake you until your teeth rattled.”

  “Calm yourself, sister,” Lady Cloris said. “I am certain Miss Haliburton had good reason for what she did—although I confess I cannot imagine what it might be.”

  Emily sank onto the loveseat to which she had been clinging since the duke had crushed her lips in a brutal kiss, told her to think about that while she lay each night in her spinster’s bed, and stalked out of the salon just moments before.

  Covering her face with her hands, she sobbed openly. She felt certain she had done the right thing. Agreeing to spend the rest of her life with a man who did not love her—indeed, was incapable of loving her—would be tantamount to condemning herself to eternal torment. Especially when she loved that impossible man with all her heart despite his many shortcomings.

  Just remembering how strong his arms had felt wrapped around her and how warm and demanding his lips had felt pressed to hers made her ache in those secret parts of her body she’d only just recently become aware of. She was desperately afraid no other man would ever make her ache in such a delightful way again.

  Maybe it would have been better to settle for what he could give her and not demand what he did not have to give. At least then she might have had his children on which to lavish the love he didn’t want.

  But no! It would have been living a lie and she was the world’s worst actress. Sooner or later he would realize how she felt about him—and how humiliating that would be for both of them.

  For he had freely admitted he ‘d only made his offer because honor demanded it. That folderol he’d prattled later about desiring her above all other women had obviously been nothing more than his clumsy attempt at kindness. She had eyes in her head; she had seen the kind of woman who appealed to him.

  She felt Lady Cloris slip a comforting arm around her shoulders and press a handkerchief into her hand. “Was I mistaken, my dear? I was so sure you cared for my nephew.”

  Emily sobbed even louder. “I do care for him,” she wailed. “I…I love him. Don’t you see, that was why I couldn’t accept his offer.” She turned her face into Lady Cloris’s shoulder and clung to her the way she had been used to cling to her dear mama when she ‘d been hurt as a child.

  “Well, I never. If that doesn’t make the least sense of anything I’ve ever heard,” Lady Sophia declared, settling herself in a nearby chair.

  ” It makes perfect sense, sister.” Lady Cloris smoothed Emily’s hair back from her forehead with gentle fingers. “Miss Haliburton is a romantic and if I know Jared, he probably made his offer sound much like he was placing a bid for a filly at Tattersall’s. Her refusal may wake him up to how deeply he cares for her and he will make her the kind of offer every woman in love desires; if he does not, then they are better off apart.”

  “Humph! I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you, Miss Haliburton.” Lady Sophia’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “For if that was your gamble, it was foolish in the extreme. No man as proud as Montford could ever care enough for any woman to risk such humiliation twice.”

  Jared had been drinking steadily since he returned home from his aunts’ townhouse yesterday morning—or was it the day before? He wasn’t even certain how many bottles of fine French brandy he had consumed. He was, however, certain of one thing: For a man who had always felt nothing but disgust for men who drowned their sorrows in the bottle, he was managing to be unspeakably disgusting himself over his rejection by Miss Emily Haliburton. Even that most obsequious of minions, his butler Pettigrew, had ventured to suggest it was high time he stopped wallowing in self-pity and pulled himself together.

  But the problem was, he could think of no good reason to pull himself together. Facing life without Emily was bad enough while one was thoroughly castaway; it would be completely unbearable if one were sober. He reached for the nearly empty brandy bottle at his elbow and poured himself another drink. If any man ever
deserved to wallow, he was surely that man.

  The library door opened behind him and he heard someone tiptoeing toward the chair in which he was slumped. Who did the idiot think he was fooling? He was drunk, for God’s sake; not deaf.

  He raised bleary eyes to the intruder and encountered a blaze of color so bright it forced him to close his tortured orbs lest the shock to his senses of daffodil yellow trousers, a scarlet top coat and a purple and gold waistcoat should hasten the nausea already roiling in his stomach.

  “Go ‘way, Percival,” he muttered.

  “It is a matter of terrible urgency. I’ve already spoken to our lady aunts, but they insisted I must inform you of my plans since you are the head of our family and my guardian as well.”

  “Go ‘way, Percival,” Jared said again. “Don’t think I can help you right now.”

  “I don’t need your help. I already know what I’m going to do. I wouldn’t even bother you if I hadn’t promised the lady aunts.”

  Somehow the urgency in the earl’ s voice penetrated the fog of alcohol in which Jared had immersed himself. He took another look at the boy and decided the only way to get rid of him was to listen to whatever was bothering him. He pulled himself upright, aware that while he was capable of understanding what was said, he would have a devil of a time if he had to make any intelligent comments.

  “Ring. Coffee,” he managed, pointing to the pull chord.

  The earl did as he was asked and moments later Pettigrew arrived with a tray containing a pot of coffee and two cups. He poured one for the earl and spoon-fed the other to Jared. Eventually the steaming, black liquid took effect and Jared waved Pettigrew away. “All right, Percival, I’m ready to listen,” he said, rubbing his temples which were beginning to ache abominably.

  The earl stopped his pacing. “It’s like this, your grace. Lord Hargrave says he can’t wait the year until I come into my inheritance and can offer for Lady Lucinda. He’s going to marry her off to Lord Woolsey, who ‘s offered him enough blunt to pay off his debts.”

  “Woolsey? Good God. The man’s a known deviant and old enough to be the girl’s grandfather. Already gone through four—no, five wives.

  “Exactly.” The earl looked about to burst into tears. “I have to save her. I love her, you see, and I cannot bear the thought of that filthy old lecher putting his hands on her.”

  He flopped into the chair facing Jared and held his head in his hands. “And she loves me, too. Oh, I know everybody else thinks I’m a bit of a nodcock and a funny-looking one at that. But Lady Lucinda don’t. She thinks I’m smart as a whip and handsome as any exquisite in the ton—and the thing is when I’m around her, I think I’m smart and handsome too.”

  For the first time he could remember, Jared was in complete sympathy with his young cousin. Emily had seen him as a dashing highwayman—not the stiff-rumped aristocrat he knew he appeared to most other people. Even in his present alcoholic stupor, he could remember feeling tall as the oak tree under which he ‘d first kissed her.

  “So, you want me to advance you enough money to persuade the earl to let you have her instead,” he surmised.

  “No, your grace. That ain’t it at all. For then it would be you who saved her and what would I have risked?”

  The earl raised his head and looked Jared in the eye.

  ” I have a plan, only it will bring more disgrace down on our family and that’ s why the Lady aunts said I was obliged to tell you. But you must know it don’t really matter what you say, for nothing will make me change my mind.”

  Jared could scarcely believe this determined young man could be the same shy, tongue-tied youngster he had judged ill suited to be his heir. If this was what love did to one, it was more powerful than he had credited it. “What is your plan?” he asked, strangely eager to hear what the boy had come up with.

  “I’m going to take her to Gretna Green—tonight. Once the deed is done, the earl can’t touch her even if we are underage, can he?”

  “He can, but he won’t. I’ll see to that,” Jared replied. “But Gretna Green! You’ll both be in disgrace.”

  “What do we care long as we have each other?”

  Jared found himself humbled by his young cousin’s single-minded devotion to a girl he had seen as nothing but a silly little fribble without a brain in her head.

  “And how do you propose to support your wife?”

  “I’ve already talked to Tattersall and arranged to auction off my cattle. They’re prime blood and should bring enough to get us by until I come into my inheritance,” the earl said offhandedly. But Jared wasn’t fooled. He knew how much the boy prized his stable of fine horses.

  “Very well. I won’t stand in your way,” he said. “What would be the point when you’ve already informed me it would do me no good.”

  He thought for a moment. “But I think you must let me help you to this extent. When you return, I’ll arrange for you to take over the management of one of my small estates in the Midlands. It’s in need of a man who knows horses, and it will provide you and your lady a comfortable living until you come into your own money.”

  With an impatient gesture, he waved aside the earl’s attempts to thank him and watched him rise to leave. “Wait one moment,” he said somewhat hesitantly. “Just out of curiosity, I should like to know what makes you so certain you love Lady Lucinda?”

  “Why that’ s easy, your grace,” the boy said without hesitation. “I care more what happens to her than what happens to me. Never felt that way about anyone else, so it has to be love.”

  Long after the young earl had departed, Jared pondered his profound words. The boy was right, of course. He remembered those hellish nights when had searched for Emily in the slums of London, with no thought to the danger to himself. Even now, if she were in harm’s way, he would gladly give his life to save her. Hell and damnation, he must have been in love all along and hadn’t had the sense to know it.

  Absentmindedly, he rubbed his aching temples. And Emily loved him too. Why, he couldn’t imagine, considering all he’ d done to hurt her, but she did. She had put his welfare before her own so many times in so many ways, only a blind man—or a pompous ass—could have failed to see the shining glory of her love.

  No wonder she had refused to marry him. Somehow he must prove to her his eyes were open at last; somehow he must make her believe he loved her as she deserved to be loved. It would have to something spectacular. Something that would leave her no alternative but to agree to become his wife.

  It came to him in a sudden flash of light which illumined all the dark and dismal corners of his brandy-soaked mind. Without a moment’s hesitation he rang for Pettigrew.

  “More coffee,” he ordered. “Lots of it and black as Satan’s heart. And food. Tell cook to prepare something hearty enough to settle a man’s stomach and sober his mind.”

  He crossed to his desk, found pen and paper and began writing furiously. The Earl of Chillingham wasn’t the only man in London with a plan to win the heart and hand of his ladylove.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It had been four days since she had rejected the duke’s offer and Emily still could not control the tears that slid down her cheeks every time she thought about him. She found herself wondering how many times a heart could break before it was shattered into so many minute fragments there was no heart left at all.

  Even now, as she pushed the lovely breakfast Cook had prepared around on her plate, a tear splashed onto the bit of scone she hadn’t been able to convince herself she could swallow.

  She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. She had made the only decision that made sense; one would think she could live with it without turning into a hopeless watering pot.

  Lady Sophia and Lady Cloris had been kindness itself, but she could tell she was distressing them. It was time she took her leave of the two old dears and let them get back to enjoying the placid life they had led before she had invaded their home.

  But what shoul
d she do with all the gowns and fans and slippers they had purchased for her? For she could see now they had been secretly supplying her with a trousseau for when she married their nephew, and she felt sick with guilt that she had disappointed them.

  All things considered, she wondered if she would have the courage to refuse him if she had it all to do over again. She was beginning to think pride was a poor bedfellow, and that even a few crumbs of affection from the man she loved might be more satisfying than a banquet with any other man.

  “You must try to eat something, my dear,” Lady Cloris chided. “You haven ‘t consumed enough food to keep a sparrow alive these past few days.”

  Sparrow. He had called her a plump. little country sparrow. Another tear splashed onto Emily ‘s plate.

  She looked up to find Finster, the ladies’ butler hovering in the doorway. The fellow always looked mightily pleased with himself; today he looked as if he had just been appointed to the post of Majordomo at Carlton House.

  She looked again. Martha was peeping around one of his shoulders and the housekeeper around the other, and she caught glimpses of two liveried footmen in the background.

  “What is going on here?” Lady Sophia scowled. “Why is the entire staff peering at us as if we were beasts on display at the Tower?”

  “The Times has arrived, my lady,” Finster intoned in his usual sepulchral voice, but Emily was certain she saw a peculiar glint in his eye. Behind him Martha and the housekeeper dissolved into giggles.

  Lady Sophia’s scowl deepened. “Is that any reason to suspend all work in the house?” She flipped open the folded paper and perused the front page briefly. “Well, I never! What will that scamp think of next?” Without another word, she passed the paper to her sister.