“I know.” He caught her wrists. “And I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. In my defense, all I can say is that from the moment our affair began, protecting you became my primary responsibility, and the more it went on, the more unbearable it became to have you as a shameful secret.”
“But you didn’t say a word, not one word, about loving me at all, Henry. I was so angry, and so hurt.” She wrenched free. “I still am.”
“And you were right to turn me down, Irene, because when I proposed, even I didn’t understand my own feelings for you. Only after you refused me, and I knew I’d never be able to have you in my life, did I begin to understand the true depth of my love for you. It’s not just physical desire or infatuation, but I wasn’t prepared to acknowledge that until you refused me. And I didn’t know after what happened between us how I could make you believe me. All I could think at the time I proposed was that I wanted to make you openly mine, and I wanted to be openly yours. I am not the sort of man for an affair. It’s marriage or nothing with me. I’m old-fashioned like that.” He paused, and slowly, he reached for her hands and took them in his. “So, will you, Irene? Give me the chance to court you properly and honorably, and prove to you that I would be a better husband than I have heretofore demonstrated?”
She looked up at him, into his brilliant gray eyes, and she was still baffled as to how she could ever have thought him cold. “As long as you understand that our daughters will have a university education if they want it,” she burst out, “and I don’t give a damn if you like it or not.”
His face twisted, went awry, and only then did she realize he’d been dead scared she’d refuse him again. He let go of her hands, cupped her face, and kissed her mouth. “They’ll have it,” he promised and began pressing kisses to the tears on her cheeks. “If they want it. They shall be the ones to decide the issue, not us, for they will be possessed of their own thoughts, their own opinions, and—given their mother—their own will.”
She nodded, laughing. “I agree. They shall choose.”
“One thing, though. I have no intention of risking that any of our children are created on the wrong side of the blanket. So until the wedding, we will be properly chaperoned, and your reputation protected. Carlotta shall be chaperone.”
“Carlotta?” Irene was appalled.
“Well, it can’t be Mama. She’ll be in Italy. By the way, you know she married Foscarelli, of course?”
“Yes, I know. And,” she couldn’t help adding, “I also know that you and all your family went to the wedding.”
“We did. You may be glad to learn that afterward, I requested that Mama introduce me to her husband.”
“Goodness,” she murmured, smiling as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I’m surprised the earth didn’t stop revolving. And now that you’ve met him, have you softened your opinion of him?”
“No,” he said promptly. “He’s a bounder, Irene, and he makes my boot fairly itch to kick him.”
“You didn’t kick him, though.” She eyed him with doubt. “Did you?”
“No. I shook his hand in the proper manner, welcomed him to the family, and assured him that he’ll be under my protection—and my eye—from now on.”
“Oh, dear.” She laughed. “That probably made the poor man quake in his boots.”
“He did go a bit pale, now that I think on it. I just hope I impressed him enough with the threat of my wrath that he behaves himself.”
“I’m sure he will. Speaking of wrath . . .” She paused and grasped the facings of his gray morning coat in her fists. “I believe you still deserve some of mine. The wedding was Tuesday, and it is now Friday. Friday, Henry,” she repeated for emphasis, tugging on his lapels. “Which means three full days before you came to see me, and I’ve been in utter misery the entire time.”
“Have you?” He looked far too pleased by that news. “That’s unfortunate.”
She scowled. “Damn it, Henry, what took you so long?”
“I needed the time. Not only to write my letter, but also to commit it to memory.”
She laughed, picturing him pacing back and forth at Upper Brook Street, saying the words he’d recited over and over. “But how did you slip it in here?”
“Your sister. We arranged to substitute my letter for the column you’d written, and timed it properly so that I was in the outer office when she brought you the stories for editing. My sisters acted as intermediaries.”
“It was”—she stopped, her throat clogging up—“a beautiful letter.”
“Yes, well . . .” He shifted a bit, embarrassed. “Thank you. Romantic speeches are not really my gift. You may never hear another one.”
She smiled. “What changed your mind about your mother’s wedding?”
“You, of course. You think I was eloquent in my letter to you? Your words to me a week ago were scathingly eloquent, and they have haunted me ever since you said them. I deserved every condemnation you hurled at my head. I was wrong in my decision not to attend her wedding, for it is impossible for me to serve the interests of the family while simultaneously turning away from any member of it. I realized you were quite right, that my first duty was to stand behind Mama in her decision. And when it was put to the family, they all agreed with me. Even Carlotta, although I suspect that was only because David threatened to petition for legal separation if she did not. I’ve never seen anything shut Carlotta up so quick.”
“Good for David. That’s what she needs, for him to stand up to her. But does she really have to be our chaperone?”
“Well, as I said, Mama can’t do it. Nor can your grandmother, Viscountess Ellesmere. She is going blind, and she’s deaf as a post, and not the least bit reliable as a chaperone. And I need someone who will keep me sternly away from you and make me behave myself. It’s Carlotta or no one, I’m afraid.”
“I prefer no one. We’ve done all right so far.”
“No, Irene, your reputation hangs in the balance, and my nerves won’t stand the suspense.”
“Very well,” she capitulated with a sigh, “but you shall make it clear to her that she’s to turn a blind eye if I pull you shamelessly behind a hedge for some passionate kissing.”
He groaned. “Not only my nerves shall be tested, I see, but also my masculine fortitude. Very well. I will endure what I must. And during our engagement, the whole family will help you learn everything you need to know about what duchesses do, so you’ll know just what you’re in for. Mama, too, when she returns from her honeymoon, will help you prepare a bit before the wedding. That is, if the rest of us haven’t scared you off by then.”
“You won’t,” she promised. “I’m not easily frightened.”
“Thank God, because if you don’t marry me six months from now, I fear I shall have to jump off a cliff.”
“There’ll be no cliff, Henry, I promise you. If you can promise me one thing.”
He nodded as if he knew what she meant. “Keep the paper. I shan’t care.”
“Even about the gossip?”
He grimaced. “I shan’t like it, I confess, and it will be rough on the family, but—”
“Don’t worry, Henry,” she said, laughing, taking mercy on him. “Before you even walked through that door today, I had already decided to eliminate gossip from the paper’s content.”
“You did?” He looked so relieved that she laughed again. “What prompted that decision?” he asked.
She sobered. “Believe it or not, I don’t like gossip. Other people do, of course, which is why I chose to include it, for when I started the paper, I desperately needed it to be a success. But now that the paper is doing so well, I can afford to eliminate it. We’ll still have fashion news, what the ladies are wearing at Cowes Week, who’s going to which house party, that sort of thing. We might even add interviews with members of the aristocracy—a day in the life of a duchess, for example. But no more gossip.”
“This wouldn’t—” He broke off and tenderly kissed the tip of her nose. “T
his wouldn’t be out of consideration for my family, would it?”
“You know it is,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear to see anything scandalous about your family in my paper.”
“Thank you, darling.” He kissed her, a long, deep kiss this time.
“But,” she added, when she was allowed to breathe again, “since I shall soon be a duchess, I’ll have to bring in a partner to run the paper for me.”
“Hang discretion. If what I said to you that night in the library is the only reason you’re bringing in a partner, don’t. Run it yourself if you want. I don’t ever want you to feel as if you have to play the hypocrite.”
“It isn’t that. I shall be very busy, I expect, being a duchess. Which brings me to my request.” She took a deep breath. “I hope you are not expecting me to give up working for the vote, Henry? Because I won’t,” she said before he could answer her. “I can’t do that, not even for you. So if I am arrested for protesting and marching in the street, I’m afraid you shall have to get your wife out of jail.”
“Don’t be absurd, darling. Duchesses are like dukes. Our sort don’t get arrested. It’s not done. But,” he added, sliding his arms around her waist, “I’m not sure marching will be necessary. As a duchess, you will have far more effective ways to change the world at your disposal. Gaining the ear of the Prime Minister over dinner, for example. Or endorsing candidates for the Commons who share your views.”
Such exciting possibilities made her catch her breath, but she knew it wasn’t only her influence that would be needed. “That will only make a difference if you’re with me, and if you will support me. Will you?”
“Always,” he said quietly. “I will always be there to help and support you. Even about the vote, though I’ve no idea what it will be like to live in a world where women vote. It’ll change everything, I expect. As for your paper, I can’t help being curious. Who are you thinking to make your partner? Clara?”
“She wouldn’t want it. No, I think I shall write to Jonathan, and see if he might like to come home and run things. He’ll be keen, I suspect. We might even start another paper or two, or a dozen. Revive the family business on a grand scale. If the estate would back these ventures long enough for us to make a profit? I won’t ask it, if—”
“Of course we shall back you.” He kissed her. “I believe in family and family loyalty very strongly, you know.”
“I should like to keep Lady Truelove, too.”
“I think you must. Especially since you have to print my letter.”
“I’m not going to print it, Henry. It is for my eyes, and mine alone. But I will keep it until its paper is yellow and crumbling and the ink is faded. I will keep it,” she added tenderly, “until the day I die. And I will read it every single day.”
“And any time I start to become autocratic and tyrannical, you can pull it out, read my own words back to me, and put me in my place.”
She smiled, lifting her hand to curl a lock of his hair in her fingers. “Well, yes, that, too.”
“As to printing it, nor not, that’s your decision, darling. As long as you know I’m sincere, that’s all that counts. And I agree that you must keep Lady Truelove alive. She’s what brought us together. We can’t let her go now. Speaking of which . . .” He paused, his arms tightening around her. “She never did give me the benefit of her advice.”
“As if you need it! You’ve done pretty well on your own, I think. All Lady Truelove would tell you, anyway, is to follow your heart, and love me. Love me, Henry, and marry me, and teach me how to be the best duchess I can so that together we can take care of both our families and make the world a better place.”
“Now that,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss her mouth, “is the best advice I’ve ever heard.”
About the Author
LAURA LEE GUHRKE spent seven years in advertising, had a successful catering business, and managed a construction company before she decided writing novels was more fun. A New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Laura has penned more than twenty historical romances. Her books have received many award nominations, and she is the recipient of romance fiction’s highest honor: the Romance Writers of America RITA® Award. She lives in the Northwest with her husband (or, as she calls him, her very own romance hero), along with two diva cats and a Golden Retriever happy to be their slave. Laura loves hearing from readers, and you can contact her via her website: www.lauraleeguhrke.com.
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By Laura Lee Guhrke
The Truth About Love and Dukes
No Mistress of Mine
Catch a Falling Heiress
How to Lose a Duke in Ten Days
When the Marquess Met His Match
Trouble at the Wedding
Scandal of the Year
Wedding of the Season
With Seduction in Mind
Secret Desires of a Gentleman
The Wicked Ways of a Duke
And Then He Kissed Her
She’s No Princess
The Marriage Bed
His Every Kiss
Guilty Pleasures
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
the truth about love and dukes. Copyright © 2017 by Laura Lee Borio. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers.
Digital Edition APRIL 2017 ISBN: 978-0-06-246986-1
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-246985-4
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