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Chapter Sixteen
“How could you do this to me, Artemis? How could you?”
Artemis kicked off her pumps and propped her aching feet on the plump ottoman in her bedroom. She’d already loosened the tapes securing her crinoline cage about her waist and had dumped it and the rest of her ball gown’s petticoats on the floor by her bed. “I don’t see why you’re so upset, Phoebe. Aunt Roberta is over-the-moon happy that Dom… I mean, that His Grace and I are betrothed. Now there are no impediments stopping you from finding a suitable match and getting married this Season.”
“But that’s just it, Artemis. How am I to do that when your fiancé is the Dastardly Duke?” Phoebe threw her a baleful glare that was so sharp, it could have sliced flesh from bone. “All Aunt Roberta can see is a way for you to escape ruin and the money you’ll bring into the family. And I don’t want someone to pursue me and then propose just because my aunt and newly ennobled sister are both richer than Solomon. I want him to propose to me because helovesme.”
“If he loves you, he won’t care about the gossip surrounding the Duke of Dartmoor. And that’s just it, Phoebe. It’s nasty, entirely unfounded gossip. Dom…” She took a breath. There was no point pretending that she and the duke didn’t have a more intimate relationship. “Dominic is not dastardly at all. He’s really rather noble.”
Phoebe snorted. “You’re just bedazzled by his dukedom and his enormous wealth and handsome face.”
“Bedazzled? Hardly.”
“Then why did you say yes to his proposal? You told me that you never wanted to wed. That you wanted to start your own school for women.”
“Because I’d been well and truly compromised, Phoebe. And I’m doing everything I can to minimize the damage to the family’s reputation.” This last point wasn’t entirely true. She’d been more than willing to endanger the family name and her own reputation to some extent in order to gain her freedom. But Artemis wasn’t about to admit that the only reason she’d accepted Dominic’s proposal was so that shecouldget her school.
“By marrying someone with the worst reputation in England,” cried Phoebe. “Artemis, he murdered his wife! If you’re going to get caught in a compromising situation with someone, at least choose a man who isn’t dangerous.”
“The coroner ruled otherwise, and that’s good enough for me. It should be good enough for everyone else too,” returned Artemis with a flash of annoyance.
Phoebe scowled. “Aren’t you the least bit suspicious or concerned that he did actually kill her?”
“Not at all. Underneath all of his arrogance, I do think he’s a good man. He’s just misunderstood.”
Phoebe’s eyes narrowed. “I always thought of you as supremely intelligent. But now I think you might be the biggest fool in all of Christendom.” She marched to the bedroom door. “And don’t expect Hetty to come and help you out of your corset or pick up your things.” She gestured at the pile on the floor with an angry stab of her finger. “She’ll be assisting me and that’s all. Good night.”
The door slammed, and Artemis let her head drop onto the cushioned back of the chair. Poor Phoebe. Tonight had been such a tumultuous ride for all of them, including her sister. She’d calm down in time. Especially when articles crowing about the Duke of Dartmoor’s engagement began appearing in papers like theLondon Tatler. And that the duke’s fiancée happened to have a very eligible younger sister. Of course, there might very well be fortune hunters and other unscrupulous sorts who would attempt to court Phoebe. But Aunt Roberta would make short shrift of them if they had nefarious rather than genuine intentions.
At least Artemis hoped so. Although Aunt Roberta didn’t seem to mind that Artemis was now betrothed to a duke with “the worst reputation in England.”
Artemis sighed. It shouldn’t surprise her that her aunt would do just about anything to be rid of her. It seemed the urge to part ways was both strong and mutual.
***
The following day, Dominic sent Artemis a massive bunch of deep-red roses with a note stating how much he was looking forward to seeing his “gorgeous fiancée.” He also mentioned that he would call on her at four o’clock sharp to take her on a jaunt about Hyde Park in his new tilbury.
Indeed, he was acting like a lovestruck fool in the full throes of courting a woman, but he couldn’t seem to help it.
He kept telling himself the real reason for his visit to Cadogan Square was that he merely wanted to ask Artemis to speak with Celeste as soon as possible. And that wasn’tentirelyuntrue; he really did need some clarity around this troubling business with ‘T.’ But before Artemis saw Celeste, he’d have to break the news to his daughter that he was engaged. According to Morton, there would be several formal announcements appearing in the newspapers on the morrow, so time was of the essence.
He had no idea how Celeste would react—whether there’d be slammed doors and tears or smiles and heartfelt congratulations—so he’d been procrastinating and effectively putting it off all day.
Instead, he was now playing the part of besotted fiancé, lingering in Lady Wagstaff’s drawing room waiting for Artemis to arrive. His pulse was elevated, his body on edge as he drummed his fingers on the edge of a windowsill. He’d given up trying to lounge with calculated carelessness against the mantelpiece or in a doorway like a young buck trying to impress a woman with his Corinthian’s physique and abundant nonchalance. Although, in a way, hewastrying to impress Artemis. God only knew why. He’d donned a new charcoal-gray coat that fit like a glove, and his waistcoat was an appealing shade of cobalt blue. And in his pocket was a betrothal ring—a massive square-cut ruby surrounded by smaller diamonds that he’d purchased from Asprey’s earlier that morning.
Anyone would think he was in love. Which was ridiculous. He’d been in love once—with Juliet—and heneverwanted to be in that agonizing state of being again.
No, I’m simply in lust with Artemis,he told his reflection in the windowpane, even as he was adjusting his necktie.And I want something from her—her expertise. There’s nothing else to this arrangement.
Indeed, his blood began to thrum with expectation when she entered the room a moment later and then uttered his name in that delightfully sultry voice of hers, a voice that reminded him of honeyed whisky and illicit encounters like the one they’d shared the night before.
Pushing down the urge to immediately sweep Artemis into his arms and kiss her until she was breathless with want, he turned and greeted her with a smile. “What, no chaperone?” he asked, glancing past her shoulder.
She laughed. “No, not this afternoon. Aunt Roberta has a megrim. I think she drank too much champagne after our betrothal was announced at Northam House. And Phoebe has taken off with her maid somewhere to run errands.”
Dominic briefly contemplated seducing Artemis here in her aunt’s drawing room—there was a wonderfully overstuffed settee by the hearth that would do nicely—but then thought better of it. She was attired in a stylish carriage gown of claret velvet with a matching little hat perched on top of her elaborately arranged auburn curls. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him mussing up her appearance like he was some randy dog who couldn’t control his lustful urges. Instead, he said, “Well, I’m pleased I shall have you all to myself. And to that end…” He removed a small, velvet-covered box from the breast pocket of his coat and opened it with a small flourish. “I suppose now would be an opportune time to give you this…”
Artemis’s eyes widened. “Oh heavens, Dominic. That ring is truly magnificent. But you really shouldn’t have. You don’t need to spoil me by sending roses—although theyarelovely—or giving me jewelry. We’re not courting. You don’t need to sweep me off my feet.”
