As soon as the door closed, the sisters looked at each other, curious, anxious, and doubtful.
Blanche remained rooted where she stood, heart wavering, mind racing.
Fanny nudged her lightly. “That was… something. Isn’t he the Duke everyone was talking about at Greystone? The one the Dowager had pegged as the Season’s greatest prize?”
Blanche pulled her gaze away from the closed door, her voice barely a whisper. “The prize, the hunter, or the devil himself—I’m not entirely sure which. But yes, Fanny. That is him.”
Without being able to help herself, Blanche began to walk from one corner of the corridor to the other. The pugs clung to her skirts as they tried to nibble at the hem of her dress.
Fanny, who looked just as anxious as her sister, sat waiting on a chair in front of the study for what seemed like an eternity. Blanche’s thoughts drifted, a strange flutter stirring in her chest whenever she recalled the Duke’s dark gaze.
“What could they possibly be discussing for so long?” Blanche muttered, stealing another glance toward the closed study door.
Fanny shrugged. “If he’s indeed one of Father’s creditors, perhaps they’re trying to arrange a settlement.”
Before Blanche could reply, the study door finally creaked open.
Lady Gooldwer emerged first, looking as though she had just swallowed an entire lemon. Her expression was tight,her movements stiff with unmistakable reluctance. The Duke followed, composed, unreadable—until his gaze landed on Blanche.
“Well,” Lady Gooldwer sighed, smoothing her sleeves. “It seems His Grace has come to a decision.”
Blanche stiffened. “A decision?”
Her mother exhaled deeply, as if bracing for impact. “His Grace wishes to marry one of you girls.”
Fanny gasped, turning to Blanche, eyes dancing with shock.
But before either could speak, the Duke’s voice cut through the moment, steady, unwavering.
“Not justanyof your daughters.” He held Blanche’s gaze with undeniable certainty. “I want Lady Blanche.”
The words settled heavily in the air, ringing between them like an unshakable truth.
Lady Gooldwer groaned softly, rubbing her temples. “Must it be Blanche?”
The Duke’s smirk flickered, but his tone remained sure. “Itmust. It’s her or no one.”
“Are you toying with us, Your Grace? Because this feels hardly amusing.”
Lady Blanche’s response was unexpected, but then again, everything about her seemed to be, which amused and fascinated Heath equally. Unlike other ladies in her position, she hadn’t sighed in excitement or even flinched at the sudden proposal.
She didn’t even seem bothered by her improper attire for a society lady—let alone an Earl’s daughter—with her hair simply braided and her dress devoid of adornments or jewelry.
Not that she needed them, of course. Standing there, Heath found her even more enchanting than the night they’d met. The cream hue of her spring dress blended perfectly with her fair skin, accentuating the rosy flush of her cheeks and the vibrant green of her eyes.
And those curves… those curves gave her an irresistibly alluring silhouette. His palms itched to have her in his arms once more.
She was a delightful creature, stirring Heath’s instincts in more ways than one.
He particularly enjoyed how she responded not with submission but with stubborn self-assurance. Lady Blanche studied himwith suspicion, yet her posture remained that of a proud, strong woman.
A lady he would undoubtedly relish in unraveling.
“I’ve no intention of mockery. How could my proposal be a joke?” Heath said, returning to the subject and looking at Blanche with intensity, trying to convey the depth of his decision.
“We’ve metonce,” Lady Blanche stated, setting her cup down. “And our encounter was neither tender nor affectionate.”
Heath knew marriage was essential—to silence the whispers that threatened his political stance. And she was the only woman who made the prospect tempting.
