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"They didn't seem to concern you when you arranged her betrothal to Guillford."
"This is different."
"Very. Aurora didn't want him. She does want me."
"You're so bloody sure?"
"Why don't we ask her?" Julian suggested with a grand sweep of his arm. "Summon her to your study. Tell her of my offer. Then give me a half hour to talk with her. Alone. After which I'll leave, give her time to consider her options.
" His lips twitched. "If I'm wrong, if she refuses me, then you can call me out and shoot me dead. Or at least you can try."
For a long silent moment, Slayde just stared. Then he nodded. "Very well, Morland. Let's play by your rules. I'll have Siebert summon Aurora."
* * *
Four minutes later, Aurora knocked tentatively and stepped into the study. "You wanted to see me?"
Slayde rose. "No, actually my visitor wanted to see you." He inclined his head toward the sideboard where Julian lounged, watching Aurora's entrance. "You remember the Duke of Morland?"
Twin spots of color stained her cheeks, but she met Julian's gaze without flinching. "Yes—I remember. Good afternoon, Your Grace."
Julian grinned at her formal acknowledgment. Straightening, he crossed over until he stood before her, close enough to make out all the vibrant hues of her red-gold hair. "Lady Aurora," he replied, capturing her hand, slowly raising her fingers to his lips. "How are you?"
She inclined her head, myriad emotions flashing across her face. "The same as I was when you last saw me," she managed. "One doesn't change overnight."
His lips brushed her skin. "Doesn't one?"
He could actually hear her breath catch.
"Aurora," Slayde announced without prelude, "the duke has come here to offer for you."
Turquoise eyes widened with astonishment. "Why?" she blurted.
Julian's grin widened. "I think that's obvious."
"No—it's not." Aurora tugged her hand away. "I'm not some pathetic waif that needs a home, Your Grace. Nor must I be rescued from the outcome of my reckless act. You weren't responsible for last night's … episode. I was. There's no need for you to make amends."
"Amends?" Seeing the golden sparks ignite Aurora's eyes, the proud tilt of her chin, Julian found himself wondering if this plan was going to yield even more than he himself had realized. "I assure you, making amends is the last term I would use to describe my intentions. That would imply a sense of regret, which I happen not to feel." He cut himself short, determined for this conversation to remain private—for many reasons.
Pointedly he turned to Slayde. "We agreed that I might speak with your sister alone."
"Yes, we did." Slayde glanced at Aurora. "Do you have any objections?"
She looked as if she wanted nothing better than to voice some. But in the end curiosity won out. "I have no objections."
"Very well." Slayde snapped open his timepiece, making note of the hour. "Thirty minutes." He headed for the door. "I'll be just down the hall."
Julian waited until the quiet click of the door handle signified they were alone. Then he turned his attention back to Aurora, who was openly studying him, a wary expression on her face. She was even lovelier than he remembered, Julian mused silently. Her features were alive, vibrant, her figure slight yet enticingly curved—as the close-fitting bodice of her morning dress revealed—her eyes as vivid as flawless gems, her hair a shimmering cloud of golden red.
Marriage was beginning to look infinitely appealing.
"Why are you staring at me?" Aurora interrupted his thoughts to demand.
A corner of Julian's mouth lifted. "I could ask you the same question. In my case, I'm staring at you because you're beautiful. And your reason?"
"I'm just … surprised to see you. I'm even more surprised by your proposal. And I'm awaiting an explanation."
He chuckled. "You're not surprised to see me. You watched my arrival from your bedchamber window."
