Georgie despised this soiree with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

She’d spent the better part of the last hour coming up with all the ways she hated this gathering and the burning suns metaphor was her favorite so far.

She stood on the sidelines and perused the ton’s finest and most eligible ladies. Oh, there were others here too—married couples and some young lords of marriageable age. But all she could see were the blasted ladies of the list.

She sipped her lemonade as she had been doing for ages now as an excuse to avoid mingling. She was hardly in the spirits for meeting new people and making small talk right now was unbearable.

She who was renowned for her gift of the gab was rendered speechless tonight precisely because everyone was talking. Rumors of the true nature of this soiree had spread like wildfire, according to Mary, ever since it was announced.

It seemed society’s gossips had seen through the ruse that this was just another gathering and everyone who was anyone expected there to be an announcement tonight. If not a formal engagement, then at least an offer of courtship.

Mary said something sweetly conciliatory about how lovely she looked in her green silk gown. Georgie gave her a small smile of acknowledgement but refused to let herself be drawn into conversation.

Mary sighed as she’d done the last three times she’d tried and failed to draw Georgie out. Then she went back to standing by Georgie’s side in silence and solidarity, for which Georgie was grateful.

Mary truly could be a decent friend when the occasion called for it.

But just as quickly as she’d thanked the stars for her friend’s blessed silence, she cursed it. For silence meant that she could hear the whispers of the group of ladies beside her.

Perhaps burning suns was the wrong metaphor after all. This whole blasted gathering was far more akin to hell. Surely it was a very special form of torture to be surrounded all night by a crowd whose sole purpose seemed to be to speculate on whom the duke would marry and why. All of the names she’s heard thrown about were familiar. Of course they were all likely ladies of the infernal detestable list.

But then something happened. The rumors changed; the gossip turned from vague hints and innuendos to specific and frighteningly accurate speculations.

Watching the crowd as she was, Georgie could see the changing of the tide. Where before she’d seen nothing but smiles and the excited chatter of idle speculation, now she saw narrow-eyed glances of jealousy and stares of interest all aimed in one very specific direction.

It seemed all eyes in the place were focused on Lady Regina Phelpott. She with the ridiculous name and the perfect attributes.

Lady Regina, for her part, looked smug as could be for a woman who seemingly refused to smile. She came close now, though, her lips tilting up ever so slightly as one of her friends whispered in her ear.

But why? Georgie watched the perceptible shift in the ballroom’s temperature with morbid fascination. What on earth had brought about this change?

As if in answer to her question, one word could be heard among the crowd.

List.

Surely she was hearing things. But no, that word buffeted her from every side as she led Mary toward Claire, who was deep in conversation with the duchess. The duchess, meanwhile, looked as regal and untouchable as ever, despite the rumors about her son.

A list of ladies.

He had a list made.

Lady Regina is at the top of the list, a girl to her right said.

Georgie’s stomach sank. It was bad enough that the list existed at all, but now it was out there for all the world to see?

No. It couldn’t be. How could anyone have seen the list?

She nearly ran into the answer when he stepped into her path en route to her sister. Lord Malcolm’s smile was far more smug than Lady Regina’s and the sight of it made her queasy.

“I suppose you’ve heard the rumors, Georgie.”

“It’s Miss Cleveland,” she corrected, hating him more and more with each passing second for the trouble he’d caused. “And how did you get your hands on it?”

He arched one brow. “You don’t seem surprised.” His look turned thoughtful. “And here I thought I was doing you a favor.”

She blinked at the idiot before her with his peacock strut and the entitled air. Everything about this man screamed spoiled brat. He had none of the understated grace, nor the humility, or even half the dignity of Rhys. “How on earth do you suppose that by meddling in the duke’s personal affairs you are in some way helping me?”

He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Isn’t it obvious, Georgie? The high and mighty Duke of Roxborough has been stringing you along. He’s been playing you for a fool all this time.” Malcolm’s expression hardened and his eyes took on a hard gleam that made her shiver. “He’s been playing games with all of us, making me think that you were some prized catch.”

The way he’d sneered you made her breath catch. She knew what he meant, of course. The duke’s supposed interest in her made Lord Malcolm believe she had some worth he could not see…a profitable connection, perhaps, or a dowry fit for a princess.

Fortunately for her, she didn’t give a fig what Lord Malcolm thought of her or whether or not he wanted to marry. Her sense of humor returned just in the nick of time. It seemed all she’d needed was to witness a fool in all his glory for her wits to finally return.

She arched her brows, all sweet innocence in the face of his nasty sneers. “Did he truly manage to convince you I was someone you might want to marry?” Her laugh wasn’t even forced. “Funny, no one in the world could have convinced me the same for you.”

His stunned expression was almost as gratifying as the quick flash of rage as her meaning registered. “Why you little—”

“No, no,” she continued on blithely. “Not even a great actor could have fooled me into thinking you were a worthy husband. But most especially not an honorable gentleman who’s as honest as the day is long.”

He was still sputtering behind her as she moved away from him.

That little run in with Lord Malcolm had done her good. She felt like herself again—heartbroken and bereft, but at least her mind was once again functioning and she could see the humor in this situation.

And a little levity was exactly what this situation called for. After all, it wasn’t as though Rhys had been caught tupping a maid in the cloakroom. He’d merely done the wise and responsible thing by assessing his future bride to see how well she would fit the role.

It was the type of cold, rational behavior society typically admired when it came to marriages, so the fact that this news caused a sensation was ridiculous and someone ought to point that out.

She spotted the duchess and her sister on the far side of the room, looking regal as always. That might be a good approach for some scandals, but something so harmless as this…

Georgie believed she could help. But why would she do such a thing for a man who would never love her in return?

She was hard-pressed to answer that even to herself. Perhaps it was because, whether he would marry her or not—indeed, whether he loved her or not—Rhys was a good man. An honorable man. He deserved better than to have his marriage prospects dissected and judged by this insufferable crowd.

So, rather than join the duchess and Claire, she stopped beside a gossiping group of young misses who were discussing the latest turn of events. Mary joined her side, and she was glad of the moral support even if her friend had no idea what she was supporting or why.

“…can you believe it?” one of the girls was saying. “A list, as though his bride were some sort of equipment to be bought at a mercantile.”

The other girls tittered behind gloved hands or open fans. Georgie wasn’t certain why. Of all the comparisons to make, that one seemed remarkably dull. Still, this was her chance. Loudly and with the utmost sincerity, she interrupted. “And why shouldn’t he?”

All eyes were on her, from the girls in this little circle to some of the guests who milled around them.

“I beg your pardon,” the girl with the simplistic metaphor said.

Georgie gave them a smile that spoke of complete and utter approval for Rhys’s actions. “I think it’s quite wise, don’t you?” she asked Mary.

Mary, bless her heart, only paused for a heartbeat before nodding emphatically. “Oh, yes indeed.”

“Of course it is,” Georgie continued. “Dukes do not have the same freedoms as other gentlemen, you know.” She made her tone so reverential she nearly laughed at herself.

She knew for a fact that Rhys would have laughed at her sudden awe of the ducal title.

“Truly, a man such as His Grace could not be expected to court ladies like any other gentleman, now could he?”

The girls in this tight circle exchanged quick looks. “No, I suppose not,” one girl said.

“That’s right. He must think of all the people who look up to him, who depend on him. One must assume he bears the weight of great responsibility in choosing the lady who will stand by his side.”

The girls straightened around her, hopefully awed anew at the great and magnificent power of the duke whose home they currently inhabited.

“It is true,” she said. “It is a big decision. My mother said…”

Georgie left them to discuss what the wise mother had said and moved on to tackle another group. With a smile, she heard Mary join a small group behind her and she started in the same way Georgie had just done. Well done, Mary.

Between the two of them they ought to be able to squash the ridiculousness of the rumors and cast Rhys in the very best light. By the time she was done, he would once again have his pick of all the ladies of the list. Though, by the sounds of it, the choice had already been made.

She refused to look in Lady Regina’s direction, just as she tried her best not to allow the sickening envy swallow her whole. It was hardly Lady Regina’s fault that she was blessed with the perfect lineage and every desirable trait for a duchess. No, it was not her fault. Just like it wasn’t Rhys’s fault for putting his obligations ahead of feelings.

She drew in a deep breath as she moved on to yet another small group who mingled near the refreshments.

If only she knew for certain that he did have feelings for her. In her mind’s eye she saw his dark eyes churning with emotions. This crowd would never believe the passion she’d seen there. Not just desire—though the desire she’d seen there had made her tremble—but there had been something deeper.

Yes, he felt something for her. Perhaps not love, and definitely not something strong enough to overcome his strong sense of duty.

But then again, would she love him so much if he wasn’t so excessively honorable?

She sighed as she forced herself to let go of all thoughts of what might have been. She had a mission and this was one way that she could help the man she loved, and he deserved nothing less.

She’d barely opened her mouth to start in on her next jovial lecture, her happy scolding as she liked to think of it, when she was interrupted by a sudden silence in the ballroom. Everyone, it seemed, had stopped what they were doing—even the musicians—to gape at the now legendary duke as he paused dramatically in the entryway to the ballroom.

There were several steps that led down into the large, open room and he stood at the top as though addressing them all from a stage.

He looked the part of the mighty duke with his perfectly fitted evening attire and that brooding, intimidating glower.

Well, intimidating to most, but not all. She certainly wasn’t intimidated by the scowl. She never had been and now that she’d grown to know him better than she knew herself—or at least, that’s how it felt at times—she never would.

The man might be self-righteous and he might have impossibly high standards, for himself as well as those around him—but he was kind and just, warm and generous.

He was just remarkably adept at hiding that part of himself.

Now, for example, no one could be faulted for fleeing in terror at the way he frowned down at the crowd in general, as though they were a gaggle of naughty schoolchildren caught stealing pastries from the kitchen.

The thought almost made her laugh. Almost.

She might have laughed if her heart were not breaking at the sight of him. Lord, but he looked handsome. So strong, so virile…so very kissable.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, his gaze sought her out in the crowd easily. Those dark eyes focused on her with an intensity he didn’t attempt to hide.

She found herself growing hot under that intimate gaze. Though, of course, she was being silly. How intimate could it be when she stood in the middle of a ballroom surrounded by the ton?

Very. That was the answer. It could be very intimate. She tried to tell herself he wasn’t looking at her, though that was an obvious lie. But surely he would look away at any moment. But one moment went by, and then two, and they stood there gazing at one another as though no one else existed.

But they did, of course. They not only existed; they were staring. At her. She could feel their eyes on her but she couldn’t look away from Rhys. To be honest, she didn’t entirely care what they were thinking or what the whispers rising up around her were about.

She was too busy savoring this moment. Quite possibly the last time she would be allowed to look upon him so freely and without breaking one of the ten commandments. That pesky tenth one—thou shalt not covet.

Of all the commandments she hadn’t expected that to be the hardest to obey.

When the whispers grew so loud she couldn’t ignore them any longer, Rhys finally broke their longing stare to cast an appraising glance at the ton who were beneath him, literally and metaphorically. “It has come to my attention that there is some speculation as to my intentions this evening.”

Georgie blinked up at him in surprise, noting dimly the gasps of shock around her. It seemed she wasn’t alone in assuming that Rhys would ignore the rumors. They, and she, had expected that he would follow in his mother’s footsteps and maintain a regal and dignified silence.

Apparently not.

She felt a smile tugging at her lips despite all the pain she felt at the sight of this man she loved so fiercely. Good on you, she wanted to shout. But she didn’t. She might not be as dignified as a duchess but she hadn’t been raised in a gutter either.

Still, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the shocked sounds around her when he spoke again. “If anyone wishes to ask me outright about my intentions, I would be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

Silence reigned aside from a few scattered gasps of outrage. No one liked to be caught gossiping, and it was even less enjoyable to be called out for it.

Rhys arched his brows, his formidable gaze sweeping over the crowd once more. “No? No questions? No comments on the rumors you’ve heard tonight?” He paused and then straightened his gloves. “Fair enough. Then perhaps you will be kind enough to remain silent as I make the announcement that you have all been so eager to hear.”

Now there were more than shocked gasps. There were excited whispers and nudging elbows, and, Georgie was quite certain, at least one very smug smile on the face of one Lady Regina Phelpott.

Georgie assumed as much, but she could not bring herself to turn and see. She couldn’t bear to do much more than stand there frozen, hoping against hope that this cold numbness would last until the announcement and toasts were finished. Maybe even until the end of the evening.

But no, that would be asking for too much.

She cast her eyes heavenward, both to keep her tears from spilling over and to say a prayer. Please let this numbness last until I can make my escape.

There would be tears in her future—loads of tears, and weeping, and enough heartbreak for her to write her own book of sonnets. But she despised the idea of this crowd seeing her despair.

Let me please escape with some sort of dignity.

“I plan to announce my engagement tonight.”

The crowd gasped and Georgie’s throat closed up with an ache so acute she thought it might suffocate her.

Worse, a tear escaped.

Her prayers had not been answered.

“Many of you might be aware that my family and I had a list drawn up of all the eligible young ladies of the ton.”

Oh, this could not be happening. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had to fall in love with a man she could not have? Did she really have to witness his betrothal as well?

This was too cruel.

Mary clutched her hand and she held on tight.

“These ladies are all of estimable character,” he continued. He said more after that but the rushing of blood in her ears drowned it out. She still got the gist of it. Each and every one of these ladies was special and wonderful in a unique and lovely way and blah, blah, blah.

It was a proclamation, plain and simple. He would announce the winner, for lack of a better term, and then this hell would be over.

No, the hell would just be starting.

As the moment drew near, she nearly lost her composure entirely. Her battle with tears was a losing one. She had to get away. She’d tried to be strong, but there was no way she could stand there and keep a smile on her face as the man she loved announced his betrothal to another. Wrenching her hand from Mary’s grip, she spun on her heel and headed toward the closest exit.

“While all the ladies of the list would make for an admirable duchess, I must confess that the woman I want to be my wife is not on the list.”

Georgie froze in the middle of the ballroom, her back to the makeshift stage. It wasn’t so much his words that first gave her pause, but the way he’d said “ladies of the list.” He’d said it with a hint of a melodramatic lilt, as she had done. The way he’d said it had almost been…teasing. She turned slowly. Almost as though he were telling a joke.

A private joke meant just for her.

When she’d turned completely, she found that he was watching her, his expression unreadable, but his eyes…oh, his eyes. They were filled with every emotion she was feeling. Uncertainty, desire, passion…

Love.

So. Much. Love. Seeing it reflected there in the eyes of the man she adored made her knees go weak.

What had he said? That he wanted a woman who was not on the list? He couldn’t mean…

Her gaze searched his. She caught the tiny hint of a smile and her breath hitched.

He could. And he did.

She froze again, but this time for an entirely different reason. She wasn’t numb with shock or battling grief. She was stricken with joy. It was too miraculous to fathom. While her heart wanted desperately to believe it, her mind was slow to follow. It seemed too good to be true. Things like this didn’t happen to girls like her.

Or did they?

Rhys never looked away, not even as he strode down the stairs and across the ballroom. The crowd parted around him, turning to follow his movements until she found herself alone with him in the middle of the room.

Or rather, they were surrounded by the ton, but she felt as though they were alone. The crowd was largely silent as they waited for Rhys to speak.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, waiting for the same. He was so close now that he towered over her, helpfully blocking out her view of the crowd around her, contributing to this lovely illusion that they were alone in the world. Just the two of them, in the ballroom rather than the garden, but still. Alone. Just as they should be.

When Rhys took too long to speak, she did it for him. “So, you’ve decided against the ladies of the list then?” she helpfully prompted, eliciting a small flicker of a smile that she knew she would remember always. She managed to keep her tone light despite the fact that her heart was beating frantically and her hands shook with nervous anticipation.

What if she was wrong? a voice of doom felt compelled to ask. What if he meant someone else?

That voice didn’t quiet, not until he finally spoke again. “Miss Cleveland,” he said in that low, rumbly tone she so adored.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Her own came out breathless in response, but it was hard to breathe when her heart was trying to escape her chest.

He took a step closer until he was so close they nearly touched. All that existed was him, them, this moment. His eyes were dark and intense, his lips…oh mercy, his lips held a smile. “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

It was that moment that she was struck speechless.

She stared up at him, eyes wide with wonder. Could it be? Was her fairy tale really coming true? Did the man she loved above all others truly want her for his bride?

Wonder turned to joy and she felt it ripple through her. It was the kind of joy that would forever alter her world. It would forever alter her.

She wanted to say yes. More than anything in the world, she wanted to say yes. But the words wouldn’t come. For the first time in her life, words failed her. Reason decided to come back from holiday, and she couldn’t ignore it. “Are you quite certain?”

Now it was he who was staring with wide eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

She dimly noted the whispers around them and she leaned in so no one else could hear. “I want to say yes, Rhys, I truly do. But what about your duties? You must admit I’m hardly duchess material and—”

He kissed her. Right there in front of Mary and the duchess and Claire and the rest of the civilized world.

His lips were firm and demanding, his arms tight around her as he pulled her close so she was pressed to his chest, her slippered toes dangling in the air.

He quite literally swept her off her feet.

“Only you would argue with me when I’m trying to propose,” he said gruffly as he lifted his head slightly to meet her gaze.

She grinned up at him. It was difficult to form coherent sentences when his lips were still so close to her own, when his arms were so tight around her, but she managed, albeit breathlessly. “I wouldn’t want you to make a decision in haste, Rhys.” She was only partly teasing as she tilted her head slightly to acknowledge the gasping, whispering crowd around them. “I wouldn’t want you to marry me just because you are honor-bound to do so.”

“Silly Georgie,” he murmured, his eyes filled with such tenderness it was hard to breathe. Or maybe that was his deliciously tight embrace. He leaned down closer until his nose just brushed hers. “I want to marry because I am desperately in love with you.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips, which had parted with a gasp. “I know my words are not that of a poet, but I hope you know how sincere I am in my—”

She cut him off with a kiss that made him groan and the crowd around them erupt once more into a frenzy of whispers, though now there were giggles and cheers mingled in with the shock.

She pulled back slightly to tease him. “My apologies, Your Grace, but sometimes you don’t know when to stop talking.”

His laughter rumbled through him and she could feel it resonating throughout her body. “Georgie?”

“Yes?”

“Is that a yes?”

She laughed as she nodded. “That is a yes, Rhys. I would love to be your wife.”