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“It doesn’t matter.” He waved his hand. “We’ll deal with him later.”
She shook her head, not liking the way the lie was sitting in her stomach. “I doubt we’ll have to deal with him at all.”
Damian stopped, mid pull, to give her a long, unblinking, look. “What do you mean?”
She looked down at her clenched hands. “I told you. I’ve never even met the man. I don’t know—”
He nodded. “You’re right. He’ll likely not be very invested either if you’ve never even met. Still, it’s something I’ll have to discuss with Balstead. When do you think he’ll return anyway?”
They were going to bring Raithe into this? She swallowed a lump. Raithe would support her lie, of course. He hadn’t been honest with this man to begin with. But the very idea that Damian would discover her deception...it filled her with dread. She wasn’t accustomed to lying and he was not a man who compromised. Ever.
At this point, it would be far easier if Raithe didn’t return until after Damian was gone. She gave her head a small shake. The thought of telling Raithe she’d accepted a position as the duke’s mistress helped remind her why she needed to remain strong and keep her wits. “What I meant to say was that I rejected your offer. There is nothing I’ll need to say to him.”
He quirked a brow, removing the sheets fully from his coat and leaning forward to hand them to her. “I understand that you’re reluctant to form a relationship with me outside the bonds of marriage. Which is why I’ve amended my proposition.”
“Amended?” she reached for the papers, her hands trembling. Slowly, she slid the stack from his hand, and unfolded the documents. At the top, in large elegant scroll was written, Contract for the Marriage of His Grace, Damain Danesbury to Mrs. Cassandra Winterset.
The papers fell from her hands. “You wish to make me your duchess?”
Perhaps she should be glad, but a slow dread filled her stomach. She couldn’t accept such an offer.
* * *
The fire in the hearth crackled and a log snapped loudly as Damian watched as her face turned an ashen shade of white. It was not the reaction he’d expected. Though, he wasn’t certain what sort he had thought she might have. It would have been nice, he supposed, if she’d tossed herself into his lap and kissed every inch of his face, scar and all.
After all, it wasn’t every woman who got an offer to marry a duke.
He’d thought perhaps she’d smile at the very least, but she looked as though she were about to lose her favorite dog or…hell, she’d looked happier about his offer to make her his mistress. “I sense I’ve made a miscalculation of some kind or another.”
She shook her head, her gaze casting to the papers now lying on the floor. “You have not.”
“Then why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
She swallowed, deliberately leaning down to retrieve the papers and carefully folding them again, placing them in her lap. “I think we should discuss a few pertinent points.”
He leaned forward then, resting his elbows on his knees. He didn’t know what she’d say but he was damned curious. “Continue.” He’d like to have the entire conversation with her in his lap. But he kept his distance for now.
Her fingers twisted together, her knuckles turning white. “I don’t like dishonesty. I’m—”
“I’ve been truthful with you from the first moment,” he said, relaxing back.
“I know. And I’d like to do the same. I never conceived during my first marriage. As a duke, I’m sure having an heir is important to you.”
Was that what this was about? He waved his hand. “If your husband was as sick as you say, I am not at all surprised. My guess is you were hardly physical?”
Her hands stilled. “Oh. That is true.” Color flushed her cheeks. “That would make a difference?”
Jesus. She didn’t know even the basics? His fingers clenched into fists. “Very much so.”
“And what we did last night. Would that cause me to…” The delicate shade of pink that had colored her cheeks grew positively red.
Well. If he were going to give her a lesson, he may as well include a demonstration. “Come here, Cassandra.”
She shook her head. “I’d better not.”
He tried not to grumble in protest. She was being difficult but for once in his life, he’d attempt to use a more delicate hand. “Fine.” Then he stood, leaning against the mantel as the scent of smoke lightly filled the air. “A man has seed he must plant into a woman’s womb. The seed comes from—”
“Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “Of course. How could I not have realized? And he’d have to finish in order to plant this seed?”
