Page 30 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

“You and Rhys have no more schemes up your sleeves? No plans to escape the duke?”

“Not a single one.”

Aunt Glynnis perked up. “Then all that remains is for me to speak with Simon about the conditions of your courtship.”

“What courtship?” Ravenna said with a startled look at Jane.

“People your age may not care for custom, but I do. You have to attend the proper places and make a pleasant impression on those who count. It is a privilege to be a duchess. The country looks to its peers for an example, which, alas, in our family’s case is an imperfect archetype indeed.”

Twenty minuteslater Aunt Glynnis cross-examined Simon at a table set with tea, coffee, and fresh apple muffins lathered in fairy butter. He wasn’t sure what Ravenna had revealed to her, but until he knew the situation called for a lot of nodding and smiling and all the charm he possessed.

“I’m sure you must have questions,” he tentatively began.

“And I will ask them.” She inspected him over her muffin. “You are marrying Ravenna of your volition?”

“Yes. Do I understand that you expect us to enter a period of courtship?”

“Not if it gives you an excuse to delay the wedding.”

“Glynnis,” he said, putting his hand to his heart. “I have given my word.”

“My niece gave her word to another man.”

He reached for his cup. “I’m not sure what you’ve been told, but Ravenna and I don’t have the luxury of following tradition. The old rules are rubbish. She saw my assailant. She is vulnerable by virtue of the fact that she could identify him, or he thinks she could.”

“She should not be left alone, or to her own devices,” she said, returning her muffin to her plate.

“I agree. Until he is apprehended, she should not appear in public unguarded.”

“And yet you were attacked at a private affair,” she said in concern. “Her wedding was to be held in St. George’s. What do we tell those we invited?”

“Tell Sir David’s acquaintances to jump in a lake. The others are welcome to attend the ceremony in Grayson’s chapel.”

She stirred her tea. “When is this event to be held?”

“Twelve days. Two weeks? As soon as I have the special license.”

“Don’t you wish to romance my niece?” she asked shrewdly.

More fervently than Glynnis could guess, which was an admission a gentleman could hardly make to his betrothed’s aunt. “What matters is that she is under my immediate protection. As her husband it will not appear inappropriate that I am constantly at her side.”

“There is nothing appropriate about how this engagement has come about,” she said wryly. “Let us not pretend differently between ourselves.”

“Do you think that Ravenna would like me to court her?”

“I would like you to,” she said with a disingenuous smile. “Twelve days, though. It should not be a hardship, Simon. The populace will suspect a child is on the way.”

“Hang the gossips.”

“How am I to show you off in such a short time?” she asked, eyeing him like a surprise gift she had just opened.

He exhaled in relief. She had accepted him. Or she would make the best of the situation. Regardless of her reasons, he preferred Glynnis as a friend to another foe.

“What a shame Griffin cannot be here,” she said, her smile disappearing.

Simon wished he felt the same. He would have to explain to Ravenna about his proposal sooner or later, but later bought him time to persuade her that he had wanted her long before now, and honor had forced him to keep his deep wanting a secret.

He went home before darkness fell. Sitting in his bedchamber he reviewed the face of every person he’d met at the ball, every conversation he’d held or overheard. Who had set the trap?

He thought of Ravenna and felt his heart lighten in happiness. Would he wake up tomorrow and find she had been a dream? Then he would not close his eyes.

It was likely he wouldn’t rest properly until he had kept his promise to take every sweet inch of her for his own. Until that moment he’d simmer and survive on memories and anticipation. The sweetness of her mouth. Her silky skin. Her bravery.

Great God. He glanced balefully from the lunar clock on the mantelpiece to his bed. His sex hardened as he envisioned her awaiting him in willing surrender.

His eyes felt heavy. He snapped back to himself at the pinging of rain against the window. He removed the rosette from his waistcoat pocket. Desire and the threat of death. Was she asleep? Afraid? At least she was not alone.