Chapter 5

‘You promised to marry me, hoping your mother would die?’ She stared back in horror. ‘I promised to meet you. Nothing more. If my mother had died that night, as it appeared she might, who was to know what I promised her? But she lingered.’He waved the paper. ‘Obviously long enough to post an invitation. And now here you are. With a maid, I presume ?’

‘Ahhh…no.’ She struggled with the answer. It was as she’d feared. He must think she was beyond all sense, traveling unchaperoned to visit strangers. ‘She was taken ill and was unable to accompany me.’ As the lie fell from her lips, she forced herself to meet the duke’s unwavering gaze.

‘Surely, your guardian…’

‘Unfortunately, no. She is also in ill health, no longer fit to travel.’ Gwen sighed convincingly. Lady Danbury was strong as

an ox, and had sworn that it would take a team of them to drag her back into the presence of the duke’s mother.

‘And you travelled alone? From London?’ He asked curiously..

‘On the mail coach,’ she finished. ‘I rode on top with the driver. It was unconventional , but not improper.’And inexpensive.

‘And when you arrived in ThornHill ?’

‘I was surprised that there was no one to meet me. I inquired the direction, and I walked.’

‘Four miles? Cross-country? In the pouring rain?’ He asked in confused amazement

‘After London, I enjoyed the fresh air.’She need not mention the savings of not hiring a gig.

‘And you had no over exposure of air of air, riding for hours on the roof of the mail coach?’ He was looking at her as though she was crack-brained.

‘I like storms.’ It was an outright lie, but the best she could do. Any love for storms that she might have had had disappeared when the rain permeated her petticoat and ran in icy rivers down her legs.

‘And do you also like reproach ?’ She bowed her head again, no longer able to look him in the eye. It had been a mistake to come here. Her behavior had been improper, but she had not been trying to compromise herself. In walking to the house, she had risked all, and now, if the duke turned her out and she had to find her own way home, there would be no way to repair the damage to her reputation.

He gestured around the room. ‘You’re miles from the protection of society in the company of a pair of notorious

Womanizers .’

‘Notorious?’ She compared them. The duke looked dangerous enough, but it was hard to believe his brother was a threat to her honour.

‘In these parts, certainly. Does anyone know you’re here?’

‘I asked direction of a respectable gentleman and his wife.’

‘The man, so tall?’ The duke sketched a measurement with his hand. ‘And plump. With grey hair. The wife: tall, lean as a rail. A mouth that makes her look—’ he pulled a face ‘—a little too respectable.’

She shrugged. ‘I suppose that could be them. If he had spectacles and she had a slight squint.’

‘And when you spoke to them, you gave them your real name?’ She stared back in confusion . ‘Why would I not?’

The duke sank into a chair with a groan. His brother let out a whoop of laughter.

The duke glared. ‘This is no laughing matter, you nincompoop. If you care at all for honour, then one of us is up a creek.’

Archie laughed again. ‘By now you know the answer to the first part of the statement. It would lead you to the answer to the second. I suppose that I could generously offer—’

‘I have a notion of what you would consider a generous offer. Complete the sentence and I’ll hand you your head.’

He ran fingers through his dark hair. Then he turned slowly back to look at her. ‘Miss…whatever-your-name-is…’ He fumbled with the letter, reread it and began again. ‘Lady Gwen Lewis . Your arrival here was somewhat…unusual. In London, it might have gone unnoticed. But ThornHill is small, and the arrival of a young lady on a coach, alone, is reason enough to gossip. In the village you spoke with the Reverend Noah and his wife, who have a rather unchristian love of gossip and no great fondness for this family.

When you asked direction to this house, where there was no chaperon in attendance, you cemented their view of you.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Archie smirked. ‘It is no doubt now well known around the town that the duke and his brother have reconciled sufficiently after the death of their mother to share a concubine.

‘There is a chance that the story will not get back to London, I suppose,’ the duke said with a touch of hope.

Which would be no help. Because of her father, London was still too hot to hold her. If she had to cross out ThornHill too… She sighed. There was a limit to the number of counties she could be disgraced in, and still have hope of a match.

Archie was still amused. ‘Mrs Noah has a cousin in London. We might as well take out an ad in The Times.’

The duke looked out of the window and into the rain, which had changed from the soft and bone-chilling drizzle to a driving storm, complete with lightning and high winds.

‘There is no telling the condition of the road between here and the inn. I dare not risk a carriage.’

The look in his eyes made her wonder whether he expected her to set off on foot. She bit back the response forming in her mind, trying to focus on the goal of this trip. A goal that no longer seemed as unlikely as it had when Lady Danbury

first suggested it.

‘She’ll have to stay the night, Marcus. There’s nothing else for it. And the only question in the mind of the town will

be which one of us had her first.’

She gasped in shock at the insult, and then covered her mouth with her hand. There was no advantage in calling attention to herself, just now. Judging by the duke’s expression, he would more likely throw her out into the storm than apologize for his brother’s rudeness.

Archie slapped his brother on the back. ‘But, good news, big bro. The solution is at hand. And it was our mother’s dying wish, was it not?’

‘Damn the woman. Damn her to hell. Damn the reverend. And his pinched-up shrew of a wife. Damn. Damn!’

Archie patted his apoplectic brother. ‘Perhaps the reverend needs to explain free will to you, Authur. They are not the ones forcing your hand.’

The duke shook off the offending hand. ‘And damn you as well.’

‘You do have a choice, Authur. But ThornHill ?’ The title escaped Archie lips in a contemptuous puff of breath.

‘It is ThornHill who does not. For he would never choose common sense over chivalry, would he, Authur?’

The duke’s face darkened. ‘I do not need your help in this, Archie.’

‘Of course you don’t, your Grace. You never do. So say the words and get them over with. Protect your precious honour. Waiting will not help the matter.’

The duke stiffened, then turned towards Gwen, his jaw clenched and expression hooded, as if making a great effort to marshal his emotions. There was a long pause, and she imagined she could feel the ground shake as the statement rose out of him like lava from an erupting volcano. ‘Lady Gwen, would you do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage?’