Chapter Eleven
Sophie blinked. “Surely you are jesting.”
“I have never been more serious. I did, in fact, try to ask you the other evening, but you didn’t believe me.”
“Well, of course I didn’t… You are the notorious Devil Duke…” She was at a loss on how to respond. “My aunt said you were looking for a wife, but I had not credited such an outlandish tale.” How on earth could she “fit the bill to perfection?” He had the most beautiful and elegant women in England fawning all over him constantly—and she offered little competition in either regard.
“As you said earlier, she does have excellent sources.”
“But a wife?” She threw up her hands, her emotions a swirling mass of confusion and something she couldn’t name. “You are known for always balking at the notion of marriage.”
Huntington rose up out of his chair and stepped toward her, and she found herself wanting to shrink back into her own chair and wanting to move closer. The man’s charisma was like a magnet, drawing her to him, with no effort on his part. “I am a realistic man. If marriage is the means to ensure my continued business success, then marriage it will be.” It was a practical response, but the look he gave her made her feel as if he’d proposed doing something wholly improper. She suppressed a shiver.
“Yes, but I have always balked at marriage, too,” she declared, though her voice sounded weak even to her own ears. “Why on earth would I change my decision to never marry?” Particularly, to marry a rake. The sort of man she would never allow herself to love.
He gave her a slow smile while biting his bottom lip, and she didn’t want to know what kind of thoughts were running through his head. “You have never been offered such an enticing arrangement before.” Still holding his drink in his hand, he leaned back against the padded arm of the chair adjacent to hers, crossing his lean, powerful legs at the ankle. The move put him so close, she could practically feel the heat of his body enveloping her.
She swallowed. “And how would you know whether I have or have not?”
“You would be married by now if you had.”
His overconfidence knew no bounds. “I will have you know that I have turned down a total of four marriage proposals over the years. Five, if we count your one from the other night.” She noticed his jaw tighten at the comment.
“I have no doubt you have,” he agreed, his voice sounding rather irked. “But none could offer you what I can.” The look he gave her was pure Devil Duke. Despite having layers of clothing covering her from neck to ankle, she’d never felt more exposed as a flush traveled up her neck and face.
She chose to ignore it. Arching an eyebrow, Sophie pushed herself up out of her chair and walked over to the window. “The Earl of Castlemaine offered for me last season, and all of society considers him quite the catch.”
Devlin laughed, the deep sound rumbling through to her very bones. “The only thing that that pompous fool could catch is a cold.”
“Which is why I refused his suit.” She looked out into the dark night, though she could see very little of the gardens below. Turning around, she faced him once more. “However, he still could have offered me a similar place in society with most of the advantages that you could.”
“No, he could not,” he stated with the assurance of a man who knew his wealth.
Maddening. “How on earth did you come up with this crazed notion of marriage? And more to the point, why would you think I would even consider it?”
“I now own the deed to the orphanage,” he pointed out. “Something which, I believe, you have been desperately trying to acquire for several years.”
Ah, so there it was—what he really wanted with Grey Street. Folding her arms across her chest, she studied him carefully. “Is that why you made a wager with Lord Relton?”
“I am not a man to let any opportunity go to waste. And I needed to show you that I was serious in my proposal.”
“But that is so…so calculated.” Infuriating as the whole situation was, she couldn’t imagine why he’d go to so much trouble for a bluestocking and almost-spinster like herself.
He raised his glass at her, as if toasting her not-very-brilliant response. “I know what I want, Sophie, and I will use any means to obtain it.”
But why me? She paused for a moment, unsure if she was ready for the answer. So she tried a different question. “And what if I refuse your offer?”
“As you said, the lives of fifty children are at stake.”
“Are you implying that if I turn down your proposal, you will do as the rumors suggest and bulldoze the orphanage to erect town houses in its place?”
“But you will not let it come to that, now will you?”
“No,” she agreed, wondering if he really would do so. Sophie couldn’t believe anyone could be so ruthless, not even the Devil Duke, but taking in the grim determination plastered across his face, she found herself second-guessing her convictions. The man had to have earned his nickname. And though he was as handsome as sin, his moniker didn’t simply stem from his amorous pursuits. “However, I do not take well to blackmail or threats, nor will I simply capitulate to your demands.”
Taking a sip of his drink, he eyed her in silent speculation from across the room. “I am a businessman foremost. Having a white elephant like the orphanage draining my funds without any reward is simply unacceptable.”
“Well then, you should not have accepted it as a wager.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“In order to blackmail me?”
He leaned forward. “With the deal I am about to offer you, it will not be blackmail. You will agree of your own free will. As a matter of fact”—he placed his glass on the coffee table, and his gaze dropped to her mouth—“I think you will be very pleased with how generous an offer I am proposing.”
Unwittingly mesmerized, even from several feet away, she regarded him with reluctant interest. “I could always purchase the orphanage off you,” she murmured. She couldn’t help but feel she was waiting for…something.
His eyes, blue like the deepest parts of the ocean she’d only seen a few times, flicked back upward to meet her own once more. “You do not have enough funds to do so yet. Besides, I have no need of cash.”
She inhaled deeply, trying to re-center herself. “Then just what sort of deal are you offering?”
“Marry me, and I will sign over the deed to the orphanage to you, to do what you want with.”
“My, what a romantic proposal.” But even so, owning that deed was her fondest wish.
“Choose to be glib about it all you like, but I am serious.”
“So let me get this quite correct; instead of selling my body for one night, it would be for a lifetime?” For the first time that evening, she couldn’t help but feel she tread on dangerous ground. She was a woman alone. With a known rake who was only partially dressed and eyeing her like he wanted to have her for breakfast. The man clearly had no qualms about using whatever means at his disposal to get what he wanted.
And other than the safety and security of Grey Street’s children, she didn’t know what she wanted. She knew she should tell him no, but…
“There you go again, being all dramatic.” He picked his glass back up, the amber liquid in it shimmering against the soft flames from the hearth.
“Well, please do explain the difference to me. For where I am standing, it is exactly that.”
He relaxed back and took another sip of his brandy. He sighed in satisfaction, and Sophie’s eyes were riveted to his lips and the column of his throat. For a mad moment, she imagined running her palm inside his shirt and trailing kisses up his neck until she found his mouth and could press her own lips against the fullness of his.
Oh, she had to take a hold of these wayward thoughts. Thinking such things would only lead to trouble.
“As the Duchess of Huntington, you would have all of the privileges expected of your station,” he continued. “You would be provided with a monthly income to spend as you choose on fripperies and the like. Shall we say five hundred pounds?”
Good Lord! Five hundred pounds per month was more than she received in her entire yearly allowance from her brother. She walked over to the lounge and sat down. To offer such a sum could only mean that he was indeed as wealthy as Midas.
He continued, “Additionally, as my wife, you would be expected to dress in the latest fashions; thus, I will also pay all of your dressmaker expenses. And obviously you will have complete control of running the households of my estates, including unlimited funds to decorate with.”
“Just how wealthy are you?”
“Wealthy enough to keep you living in style for ten lifetimes,” he replied, looking straight at her.
“So let me see if I understand this correctly… I would be expected to do Duchess duties, such as socializing and discussing the weather with all of London’s elite, as well as looking after the running of all of your households, which, by the way, number how many?”
“I have this town house, a country estate in Derbyshire, and seven other manors throughout the British Isles. Not to mention the six other properties I own in the United States and the villa I possess in Italy. I have estate managers that look after the day-to-day running of each individual property.”
Goodness, that was a lot of properties, even for a duke. “It seems to me,” she said, casting about for a safer topic, “that as I will be taking on an entirely enormous amount of responsibilities as your wife, the orphanage will suffer.”
“I don’t see how.” He sounded highly skeptical. “As long as my household continues to be run smoothly, without interruption or distraction, you may spend the whole of your day at the orphanage. All I ask is that you accompany me in the evenings to the various galas and balls. Think of it as an excellent time to procure more funds for the orphanage, which really, as the Duchess of Huntington, you will do with a great deal more ease than as simply Lady Sophie, the eccentric sister of the Earl of Thornton.”
“Perhaps, though I can see that as the Duchess, I will be unable to maintain the amount of dedicated effort I currently put into such endeavors.” She warmed to her topic. “Thus, the orphanage is sure to suffer financially.”
He narrowed his deep blue eyes. “And just how much would it cost to make sure that this suffering is circumvented?”
“Oh, I do not know,” she said, waving a hand in the air in an absentminded gesture. “Mayhap…one thousand pounds per month?” If he could afford to give her five hundred a month to spend on fripperies, he could surely afford such a sum.
Spluttering on a sip of his drink, he choked out, “One thousand pounds? Are you mad, woman? What do you intend to do? Feed them with silver spoons and dress them in the latest fashions?”
“Do not be so obtuse,” she replied. “If you must know, I have implemented a trade school at the orphanage, in order for the older children to be able to learn an employable skill. Though it is only in the initial stages at the moment, I have high hopes of expanding the whole operation.” Her thoughts returned once more to Jane. After Sophie had managed to place the girl in the Earl of Abelard’s household, she’d been inspired to think up ways to find situations for other children as they aged out of her care.
“Now, why does that not surprise me?” He pushed back a wayward lock of his black hair, which had already been tousled when she’d arrived, as if someone had been running their hands through it.
Choosing to ignore the comment and his hair, she continued on. “It helps the children in gaining employment when the time comes for them to leave. And it takes a great deal of money to do so. Most of the donations obtained thus far have gone toward a future attempt to purchase the deed off Lord Relton. However, if that is no longer an issue, then all of the money raised can go directly toward the trade program.”
“You really want to establish a trade program, in an orphanage?” He rubbed at both sides of his temples.
“Yes.” She lifted her chin. “Besides, if you expect me to spend a great deal of my time on wifely duties, then it is only fair that you assist with the financial aspect of the orphanage. You did say you were wealthy enough. And by the way, I do not appreciate being called mad.”
“Do not worry, my dear,” he said. “Once I agree to this, I shall be calling myself mad.”
Hmm. His phrasing now sounded like he was acquiescing to her demands. “So you would agree to my terms then?”
“For such highway robbery, I would insist on some further terms of my own.”
Oh. She did not like the sound of that. “Which would be?” she ventured with a bravado she wasn’t even close to feeling.
“Firstly,” he began, “I would require you to be available to me in the evenings.”
“I foresee no problem in that request,” she said. “As you so kindly pointed out, I shall consider it to be excellent grounds for lobbying for more donations.”
“You misunderstand me,” his voice purred as he stood and walked over to where she sat. He perched on the edge of the coffee table in front of her chair and angled his body in toward her. He focused his brilliant cobalt eyes on her, and she couldn’t help but think that they—and his entire beautiful face—belonged in a pre-Raphaelite painting. He would be the sinful prince of darkness, luring fair maidens to his lair of debauchery. “It is not just social events that I would require you for in the evenings. There are other nightly activities that as my wife I would like you to be available for, and I do mean available to me in all aspects of the word.”
A blush stole up her cheeks. “You say…available to you?” Goodness, was he really talking about what she thought he was?
“I do require an heir or two.” He slowly grinned, and it seemed to her that he was taking up all the air in the room. Her corset felt too tight, and it was all she could do not to gasp audibly.
She hesitated a moment to collect herself before replying. “Actually, I had not thought about that particular aspect of marriage.” Her gaze dropped to where his leg nearly brushed hers, he was so close. Part of her wanted to reach out and put a hand on him, just to see what the muscles underneath the fabric of his trousers felt like.
Perhaps she really was going mad.
“I had gathered as much.”
She looked up and watched, almost transfixed, as his face slowly lowered closer to her own, his lips mere inches from hers. A lady would push him away and move to the far side of the room.
A lady would never have come alone to the Devil Duke’s lair at such an hour, demanding an audience.
A lady wouldn’t be feeling like she was about to burst into flames, just from a man looking at her.
“I think,” he said, his voice softly brushing her cheek like a caress, “that will be the part of our bargain that we enjoy most of all.”
Her pulse began to race as his eyes trapped hers in a heated gaze. She could not look away. Though others had stolen kisses from her before, she had never felt this much anticipation or intensity fill her as it did now, and all from merely a look filled with wicked promises.
“Which comes to my next condition,” he softly whispered. “I would expect complete fidelity and faithfulness from you. I do not wish to be made a cuckold.”
His words broke the magnetic spell. She reared back from him and glared at him in mounting irritation. “You would question my honor and integrity?”
“Let us say that my past experience with married women does not lead me to believe that all women take their marriage vows as sacred. Besides, I have no wish for my wife to run around with other men, no matter how discreetly. I believe that if you give me your word, then you will honor it.”
Sophie’s mouth flew open. The very nerve of this man. “So it is perfectly acceptable for you to cavort with married ladies, making cuckolds of their poor husbands, but expect nothing of the sort to occur in your reversal of positions?”
“I never claimed to be a saint.”
“Really?” she exclaimed, turning her face away from his to address the far side of the room. If she didn’t have to look at him, it was much easier to avoid being caught in his web of charisma—and to distance herself from the topic they were discussing. “I rather thought that browbeating and blackmailing were saintly requirements?”
He drew back slightly, giving her some space. “Come, stop pretending to be so affronted. I can see your mind already spinning with the possibilities of how all that money can be used at the orphanage.”
“I still have not agreed to your proposal, if even that is what you could call it.” She stared at the flames leaping in the hearth. “Have you any further demands then?”
“Yes, one.” He stood and crossed over to the window overlooking the street below. “No more midnight jaunts such as this, under any circumstances. I will not have my wife subjected to danger or any adverse gossip.”
“Who would have guessed you to be such a stickler for the proprieties?”
He whirled back around, the expression on his too-handsome face one of utmost seriousness. “I mean it, Sophie. I will not have you put yourself in harm’s way again. It was the height of foolhardiness to traipse about London in a hackney in the dead of night.”
She bristled. “I’ll have you know this is the first time I have ever visited anyone’s residence at this hour, let alone a notorious bachelor’s.”
“Good, I expect it to remain so. Your reputation is of primary importance to this whole proposal.”
“And so it begins,” she muttered, standing also and walking over to the opposite side of the room, to where the hearth was blazing. For some reason, the chill night air was starting to penetrate through her cloak, with his words reminding her of his motivations for marriage. She pushed her hands closer to the flames to warm them. “I must remember to take a leaf out of your book, Your Grace. Know another’s weakness, and that person is yours for the taking.”
“Is that how you see it?”
“How else am I meant to?”
She could hear his footsteps crossing the room, then felt the heat from his body as he stopped directly behind her.
His height allowed him to tilt his head down to hover over her right shoulder. He murmured in her ear, “I would hope that you would see it as I do, a highly beneficial proposition for both of us.”
Sophie could feel the rough stubble of his jaw rub softly against her earlobe as the low rumble of his voice sent a jolt down her spine. She focused on ignoring the impulse to lean back into his solid strength.
“Perhaps,” she managed to say. “But if I do agree to your proposal, a part of me cannot help but feel slightly bought.”
“Come, the majority of marriages are a business transaction.”
Slowly, she spun around, feeling a frisson of excitement at his nearness. She had never been so close to him before or felt so entranced by another man. She could only watch as he slowly raised his hand and caressed her cheek.
“Let us work the situation to both of our advantages,” he drawled.
Her cheek felt like it was on fire, his touch burning but surprisingly soft. She blinked and attempted to focus on the topic at hand. “And what of your faithfulness and fidelity? Am I to expect a husband like my own father? Chasing everything in skirts, caring naught for the hurt and pain he caused to all those around him?”
His hand dropped to his side, and his expression grew uncharacteristically somber, his cavalier manner gone. “My parent’s marriage was a love match, which resulted in ruin and anguish for all involved. I do not wish for you to fall in love with me.”
Sophie laughed, though the sound was hollow. “There is no need to worry on that score. My mother believed herself to be desperately in love with my father, and I had to watch as, bit by bit, pieces of her soul were torn from her each time she discovered he had been unfaithful yet again. I will never be foolish enough to fall in love with a rake. But I have too much pride to watch as my husband cavorts around with other women. That I will not tolerate.”
He regarded her with an unreadable expression, and she couldn’t begin to fathom what thoughts were swirling about in the impenetrable depths of his eyes.
“I hadn’t actually given the matter any thought before,” he said, his tone revealing no emotion.
“That does not surprise me.” He probably didn’t even know what faithfulness actually meant or how to apply it.
“It may surprise you to know that I haven’t actually cheated on a woman before.”
Sophie felt a little jolt of hope blossom in her heart, though she quickly tamped it down. “You haven’t?”
“No,” he confirmed. “I’ve never been with a woman long enough to do so. I get bored with them rather quickly, you see.”
She swallowed away the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “Of course you do.” Just like her father had.
“You are one of the very few women I do respect. For your honesty. For your work at the orphanage. For your refusal to back down when you want something—usually for the good of others.” He looked at her rather thoughtfully. “Though I may have somewhat questionable scruples when it comes to my past liaisons, I give you my word I will certainly try to be faithful.”
“Try to be faithful…” She was at a loss on how to respond. Perhaps he was just saying all of those complimentary things about her to distract her from the topic. “You cannot try to be faithful. You either are or you are not.”
“It’s the best I can do,” he replied. “As I said, I haven’t stayed with any lady long enough before to test out the notion.”
“The confidence that fills me with.” Sophie sighed. A husband who was going to try to be faithful. Just wonderful.
“So, will you agree to marry me, then?”
“Do I have a choice?” She couldn’t believe she was actually considering agreeing to his proposal. But at least she knew where she stood and would never be so foolish as to trust her heart to him.
“There is always a choice.”
She inhaled deeply. If she agreed, there would be no turning back, but what other option did she have? He was offering her a deal that would ensure the orphanage’s survival, which was of paramount importance. Who knew, a marriage between the two of them might just work. Neither was under any illusions of it being a love match, and he would give her her freedom, plus the financial backing she required. And as an added benefit, Mabel would finally stop pestering her about her lack of marital status.
“Just tell me one thing: why me? Other ladies would have jumped at the chance to be the next Duchess of Huntington, even with your reputation, and they would have had far fewer demands than I.”
There was an intensity in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before. “Surprising as it may seem, besides having a suitable reputation, you are the only woman I have met that I respect and enjoy talking with, and one whom I also am intensely attracted to.”
Once more, she became vitally aware that it was just the two of them alone in the room. “You are attracted to me?”
A corner of his mouth quirked upward in a small, private smile. “Yes.”
She felt a shiver run up her spine—from fear or anticipation, she was unsure, but she did have the unnerving sensation that her life was about to veer off on a path she had not anticipated nor quite knew how to handle. She shook off the feeling and straightened her shoulders. “Very well. I will agree to your proposal.”
She could not be positive, but she thought she saw an instant flicker of relief flash across his face, only to be replaced by his all-too-usual enigmatic blue gaze.
“Good,” was his reply.
“Good? That is all you can say?”
“How remiss of me,” he said, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her closer to him.
“What are you doing?” she said, putting her palms up against his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she found her fingers clutching his shirt. “This is highly improper,” she sputtered, because it was the only thing she could think of to say.
He laughed, a low and decidedly wicked sound. “You seem to delight in the improper. Just look at your visit tonight. Besides, you have just struck a deal with the Devil, my dear. It really must be sealed with a kiss.”
“A handshake will suffice,” she replied as his head lowered down to her own.
“I think not,” he whispered, his breath brushing gently across her lips. “It really deserves a more intimate sign of acknowledgment.”
Her body seemed to agree, as she swayed in toward him. Her head was cautioning her against letting him take liberties, but her body was craving to know what it would feel like for him to kiss her senseless. Her body was winning.
His grip on her waist tightened slightly as he tugged her even closer. A small shiver raced through her from the intimate contact as her chest pressed against the cloth of his jacket. She felt the soft breath of his exhalation a moment before the firm yet gentle pressure of his lips pressed against her own.
Involuntarily, she gripped the material of his shirt more tightly, an overwhelming sense of wonder stealing through her. The feel of his mouth against hers was unexpectedly soft and tender. Then his lips slowly started to coax open her own, and Sophie felt a rush of warmth run through her as his tongue began to brush against hers. A sigh escaped her; she felt hot and lightheaded all at once.
Beginning to mimic the movements that he made, she softly flicked her own tongue against the inside of his mouth. He groaned in response, and his hands reached around behind her, cupping her bottom and tucking her in snugly against the hard length of him.
A deep pull in the very center of her being had her clawing at his broad shoulders as his hand released her bottom and traveled up the side of her body. His fingers began to gently tease the underside of her breast through the thin barrier of her dress. She felt deliciously wanton.
Before she had a chance to gather her wits, a child’s scream from the other side of the study door pierced the silence of the room. Sophie wrenched herself free from Devlin’s grasp—for he could not be anything but Devlin now that they were engaged—and twisted around toward the noise.
She watched as the door was jerked open and a little boy raced inside.
“Help me!” the boy screamed, dashing past both of them to find safety behind the desk. He pointed a finger to the doorway. “She wants to kill me, she does!”