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Emily straightened her spine. “One without a butler and a maid. This is my sister. Harriet. Harriet, this is the Duke of Tyrone.”

Harriet seemed to awaken from her stupor and dropped into a curtsy. “A pleasure, my lord—pardon, Your Grace.”

“Please, bring us some tea,” Emily repeated with a gentle smile when the duke ignored Harriet’s polite greeting.

Instead, he entered their drawing room and started stalking around the tiny room like a caged panther. With his gaze, he studied every little crack in the walls and glowered at every creak of the floorboards. “This is where you live,” he said, rather than asked, when Emily stepped into the room.

He dwarfed the tiny room even more, and there was barely any room for Emily to breathe. And his energetic strides felt out of place in the comfort of this quiet place.

“We are renting this cottage for the duration of our stay in London,” Emily answered with her head raised proudly. “But we are leaving. Today.”

He threw her a menacing frown. “You’re leaving.”

“Indeed.” Emily straightened her shoulders.

He continued pacing in silence, his hands locked behind his back.

“This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Me gone. Away from you and your unwed self?”

He still didn’t say anything.

Emily let out a frustrated breath. “Would you mind telling me why you are here?”

He turned on her sharply. “Is your father home?”

Emily narrowed her eyes on him. My father? “He’s been dead for three years now.” Perhaps not the most polite way to impart the information, but she was getting exceedingly annoyed with the duke.

“What about a brother? A guardian?” His voice took on a squeaking quality on the last word, and he had to clear his throat and tug on his cravat.

“My brother, Reggie, is eleven years old. Would you like to speak to him?” she asked sweetly and fluttered her eyelashes for good measure.

He absently waved a careless hand and resumed his pacing. “Then I shall speak to you.”

“How lovely.” Her voice was void of emotion.

“I’ve spent a lot of time since we last saw each other thinking about the predicament that you’re in.”

“That was yesterday,” she pointed out. “And since you were greatly in your cups, I doubt you were conscious enough to think for more than an hour since our last encounter.”

“Do you have to interrupt?” he snapped irritably. “I am trying to tell you something.”

Emily let out a scoff and waved a hand for him to proceed.

“I spent a great deal of time thinking,” he repeated emphatically. “And I decided that I shall marry you.”

There was a loud clatter behind them, and Emily turned to see that Harriet had overturned the tea tray. “Oh!” She dropped to her knees trying to clean it up, but her eyes darted from the duke to Emily.

Emily rushed toward her to make certain she didn’t burn or cut herself on the ruined tea set.

“A duchess?” Harriet whispered, her eyes feverish. “You are going to be a duchess!”

Emily helped Harriet collect all the broken pieces back onto the tray and shooed her away. Her mind was reeling and dashing from one thought to the next.

She stood and dusted her skirts, trying to collect her wits before turning back to the duke.

“You need to learn some etiquette if you’re to become my wife,” he said in bored tones. “My stables are run with more grace than this house.”

Emily squinted at the duke. “Would you mind repeating that?”