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“Oh.That’s a nice name.Biblical.A gift from God.That must be a good sign,” she finished.Another, fuller swallow followed.“If he is here now, I want to get this over with.”
“I will bring him in.You realize I won’t be here for the personal negotiations between the two of you?”
“This port can hold my hand, but I thank you for your prompt attention to my request.”Port would make a suitable replacement for the courage Anne VanLandingham had given her.Rose tilted the glass toward the woman.“Let us hope for the best.”
She swallowed the rest of the liquid, then strolled toward the sidebar where the liquor was held, pouring out another drink and bracing herself for yet another shocking change in her life.
“Are you sure you are ready?”Alice asked, compassion now flowing from her.A kind, motherly look came over her face.
“Yes.”She took a deep breath when the madame left the room, then Rose heard the low rumble of voices.She patted at her hair and ran a hand over her bodice.It was neither worry nor fear which troubled her, but deep agony—there seemed no clear answer.Except for the children, of course.As a mother, she must do all in her power to protect them.
Alice returned, followed by a tall, dark-haired man.His intense gaze pierced Rose but not in the way of an I-want-you-naked-and-on-the-floor leer.That was probably too much to hope for.There was pity in his gaze.Pity!For Rose Elliston, the Duchess of Sandhurst?Gah!She could not bear it.
“Matthew, dear.I would like you to meet Her Grace, the Duchess of Sandhurst.”
“Your Grace,” he said, and bowed low.At a gaming hell!And he was bowing as if she were the queen.
“Your Grace, may I presentMr.Matthew Hardy.I think you have much to discuss, so I will leave you now.”
Rose’s heart pounded unnaturally.She licked her lips.
There was a battle forming.Her mind wanted to be logical.Practical.Her body and her gaze cataloged the very delicious attributes of Mr.Matthew Hardy.Fortunately, he spoke before she began undressing him.
“Ah, a woman after my own heart.I think I will have a glass of whatever you are having.”He glanced at her drink and wagged his brow.
“It’s port,” she said, gripping her glass tight.She didn’t move as he walked around her.He was clean-shaven and clean, a scent of something—not horses or leather or sandalwood—wafting behind him.The liquid tinkled, then the decanter clinked against the rim of the glass as he finished pouring.
She forced her gaze away.If Mr.Hardy came in liquid form, she would unashamedly drink him down.If Mr.Hardy were actually a titled gentleman, she could consider marrying him.He wasn’t.She knew all thetonnobles; had been to parties and balls with them for years, not that themisterhadn’t given away the game immediately.The emphasis was Madame Dupuis’ and Rose caught it as she was meant to.
“Ah, yes.Quite good.I’ve always heard Madame DuPuis provides nothing but the best and I see she was right.”
Rose glanced his way.His brown-eyed gaze bore into hers and she realized he wasn’t talking about the port.She burned unnaturally, and not from embarrassment.She had long fought the tides of desire, and alone with Mr.Hardy, a strong wave of physical want gripped her.
“Whatever your petition, I cannot accept marriage with you,” she said.Hollow words?A haughty rejection even though she was in a corner and should have abjectly pleaded for his help.
“I have more wealth than Sandhurst and Devonshire combined.If you are seeking only a title, then I am definitely not the man for you,” he said.Not boastfully, not rudely, just a fact he thought pertinent for her decision-making.
Desperation tore at her.A situation that demanded wealth over title.That demanded urgent timing over glorious planning.
“I’m pregnant,” she said, showing no emotion, even though the truth was ripping her apart.“If you agree to this, you will be raising another man’s child.”
He did nothing more than raise a brow.“I am a bastard,” he said.“If you agree to this, you could be raising the children of a bastard, at some point.”
“Oh my God.”She rubbed her fingers over her forehead.
He continued, “Unless you are determined to remedy your current situation with an unconventional marriage, there is the very real possibility of having a bastard of your very own.”
“Well, Madame DuPuis was correct.Acceptable in all ways but one.”
“Oh, there’s more, but that information might be better given in the light of day and with a clear head,” he said.“Even if you will be my Lady of Nothing, you are acceptable inallways.”
“Except the one way you cannot know until after the vows are said.”Rose lifted a suggestive brow.Her gaze flitted over him.Broad shoulders, dark wavy hair, fierce gaze.Impeccable dress that he seemed uncomfortable wearing.All the exterior niceties which other women sighed over.Whichshesighed over behind her fan.What did the outer man hide?And what compelled him, aside from being in debt?
Should she think about it further?Was she so confused that her decision-making was clouded?Should she require him to confess all those things to which he’d just alluded?But Madame DuPuis didn’t say he was in debt.Had she just assumed so?
“So, I came to effect a transaction,” he said.He lowered himself to one knee and pulled out a small box from his coat pocket, opening it before her.“Will you marry me, Your Grace?”
If she had been shocked by events of the last six minutes, her eyes bulged at the sight.The ring wasn’t a whittled piece of pine.Even in the semi-darkness of this private room, the large blue sapphires—three of them—sparkled like stars in the heavens.
