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There wasn’t so much as a pinking of her cheeks at his vulgarity. She stood her ground, glaring right back at him.
“Your language doesn’t bother me, Your Grace. After all, my mother began life as a lady’s companion. My bastard brother owns a pleasure palace. Clearly, I am low-bred since I didn’t so much as protest when you took my virtue.”
“Stop it.” David tugged at his collar, unable to take a deep breath. “The words I spoke...” He reached inside his pocket where he’d carried the butterfly clip, smoothing his finger over one delicate wing. “They were not—”
“I think you should leave. There is nothing more to say.” She turned, and he caught her arm.
“You love me,” he stated with absolute conviction, watching as her lashes fluttered down to hide the anguish David had glimpsed in their depths. “Don’t bother to deny it.”
“I won’t. But I fear, Your Grace,” her voice trembled, “that I cannot andwill notspend my life with a man to whom I am nothing more than a possession. A possession he owns despite his dislike of itsprovenance. In time, you will be inclined to discard me for being without blemish.”
“Never.” The very idea of bedding another woman repulsed him. “I want you.” He reached for her so quickly, she had no time to move away. His mouth captured hers, all his anger, frustration, and longing for her pouring from his lips.
Andromeda flailed her arms at him, before a choked sob shook her body. She sagged against him, a small whimper sounding from her lips. He could feel every delicious curve of her body as he pulled her closer, running his hands up and down her spine. Their need for each other suffused the air of the drawing room.
Why couldn’t this be enough for her?
Andromeda suddenly wrenched away from David, shaking her head in denial as her gaze on him grew sad.Wounded. “If you cannot acceptallof me, Your Grace, my family, my bastard brother.” She paused and drew a shaky breath. “My partnership with Madame Dupree—”
David struggled to regain his breathing, hearing the dismissal in her tone, and snarled, “A duchesscannotbe a modiste. Or be in trade. Even if I should overlook everything else.” Ice coated his words though he tried to stop it.
“Then you acceptnoneof me.” A tear escaped one eye and slid down her cheek. “I will not be your duchess. Marry Beatrice. She is in London. The Foxwoods will welcome your attentions. Her lineage is unblemished.”
“Perhaps I should seek her out.” He regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, knowing they were untrue.
Andromeda wobbled as if he’d slapped her, pain creasing her lovely features before she lifted her chin. Defiant to the last. Nodding sharply, she walked toward the door, proud as any queen.
“Good day, Your Grace.”
