Page 8 of Sincerely, the Duke
Exhaling deeply, Rick folded the note, tapped it into the palm of his hand a couple of times, and then without further hesitation, extended it to Miss Fine. “It’s not a fake. I wrote and signed the letter.”
Immediate relief was evident. Her whole body seemed to relax and settle into itself for the first time since he’d seen her. It was obvious from her gaze held firmly on his that she still had questions. She didn’t reach for the proposal yet her breaths were short, deep, and choppy.
“Without persuasion or force?”
“What?” She was more formidable than he imagined. This was ridiculous. Why was she questioning his admittance? Didn’t she know when she had won? One of hishands sailed through his hair before it landed with a thud on his hip. “You doubt my word or you think someone could have forced me to propose to you?”
“It took you a long time to answer. I don’t want to impose myself on you if it was not your intention without unnecessary influence on you.”
“Take the letter. I wrote it to you of my own free will.”
She did so and carefully stowed the proposal back into her reticule and closed it. Her breathing slowed and her gaze held firmly to his as she returned to the fearless, competent lady he first saw. And why wouldn’t she? He’d just acknowledged he’d asked her to be his duchess without manipulation from anyone. He had no doubt she was assuming he was a man of his word.
“I need an heir, Miss Fine. The sooner the better. I stand by the proposal and will now do what I should have done before and ask you in person. Will you marry me?”
She swallowed hard and kept her gaze straight on his. “I accept,” she said without hesitation.
Rick blinked as surprise flashed through him. Just that quickly he was betrothed. To a near stranger. He’d never really appreciated how complicated the idea of selecting a bride and marriage would be. Now that it was done, he realized he’d been caught in a parson’s mousetrap of his own making. Or perhaps it was his mother’s. He supposed fault lay with both. He wrote the letter and his mother mailed it. Yet, Miss Fine wasn’t agreeing as happily as he would have expected with a belle who’d landed herself a duke for a husband without doing much more than lifting one of her delicate fingers to do so.
“With some stipulations,” she added with quiet resolution.
His heartbeat raced. Damnation, did she know what she was doing? She must. The way she spoke in such ahushed tone, it was as if he felt the weight of her hesitancy on his chest.
She was about to give him another way out of his carelessly written and completely forgotten offer for her hand and his mother’s mischief in posting it. One that could quite possibly leave his honor as well as his bachelorhood intact. He was a man of his word, but still, a man. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass without further consideration of her intentions.
With a flinch of suspicion piercing him, he answered, “Stipulations can be good, Miss Fine. What are they?”
CHAPTER 4
THE ART OF BEING A FINE GENTLEMAN
SIR DUDLEY SAMSON PEMBERTON FINE
Patience is a virtue absolutely no gentleman can be without no matter the circumstances or the value of them.
Despite having what Edwina Fine considered steely nerves, she realized she was barely breathing. Her heartbeat skipped with uncertainty. She was literally shaking in her shoes over the enormity of what was before her.
After the butler informed them Aunt Pauline had fallen asleep in the drawing room once she’d had a sip or two of tea, Edwina was ushered into the duke’s comfortably appointed book room for further discussions. She declined the offer of a drink from the duke but watched him pour one for himself. It gave her the opportunity to thoroughly study him without his watchful eyes on her.
Standing over six feet tall, the light brown–haired man was formidable and unquestionably handsome. Every ounce of him spoke of strength, privilege, and wealth, along with an abundance of vitality, arrogance, and no short amount of seeming impatience. She was usually astutely intuitive and should have expected this, but to her credit, she’d never met a titled man before. The few she’d read about were older, seemingly reserved, andwhat she would assume fatherly in appearance. Not so for this one. She hadn’t envisioned a duke as someone who might stir a young lady with feminine desires, but this one had drenched her in them.
Broadly built, with a wide chest and shoulders that narrowed to a flat, hard-muscled waist, his frame appeared lithe beneath fawn-colored trousers and a deep purple coat that fit him perfectly. He wore his starched collar high and his neckcloth with the ease of a man well seasoned in the art of tying one. Thick golden-brown eyebrows graced a broad brow and were prominent above his finely chiseled nose and cheekbones. His mouth was outlined with well-defined lips, and he boasted a slightly square chin and jaw.
None of those attractive features could come close to matching the magnetism of his light-blue eyes. She had to force herself not to stare too deeply into their depths for very long. It was difficult to concentrate or consider anything else important when she did. They made her heart thump a little harder and her breath shorten considerably.
She didn’t know what it was, but there had been more than mere acquiescence to fact in the duke’s expression when he’d glanced at the letter. There was a heart-stopping surprise. That gave her worry. It was as if he were seeing it for the first time. But how could that be? And why had it taken him so long to finally admit writing and signing the letter?
There had been no forthcoming reasons as to why he had chosen to propose to her. Naturally, she was puzzled and wanted answers, but wasn’t sure she had the nerve to ask the questions when he picked up his drink and turned toward her.
The power Edwina sensed within him made herwary. It also made a breathless feeling sweep over her. Walking toward her, he looked more like a dangerous rogue than a distinguished duke in the dark-paneled room lined with overstuffed and highly-polished bookshelves and an inviting glass-wall reading nook at the end of it. To her surprise, she liked his roguish appeal. He seemed so at ease among the predictable smells of lamp oil, dusty leather bindings, and old parchment that hung in the air.
She couldn’t feel guilty for taking him up on his offer to marry, but suddenly wondered if she were up to the task now that she knew he was not the older, somewhat fatherly figure she’d imagined him to be.
Expectations she’d had concerning this meeting had not solidified into reality, and suddenly she couldn’t take in enough air. A peculiar fluttery sensation stirred restlessly in her chest, and she fingered the ribbon under her chin to loosen it. Heaven forbid the duke think he had two females on his hands that were near to fainting.
“Would you mind if I took off my bonnet?” she asked quietly and with as much dignity as she could possibly muster.
“No.” His eyes narrowed in what could have been a flicker of concern. “I should have suggested it. Your coat and gloves as well. Let me help you with—”
