Page 54 of Love, the Duke
“You could have warned me how difficult it would be.”
“I thought I did,” he said quietly, and gave her another tweak of a smile. “More than once.”
Growing more at ease about what she was doing, she gladly gave him one too. She’d had to admit to herself that the idea of marrying him had been cause for excitement from the time he’d mentioned it. Though she didn’t know exactly what it was or what to do about it, she recognized there was something always simmering between the two of them. Pulling them together as strongly and present as the moon pulled the tides. It was there whether he waswith her or if she were alone. Whether they were in good humor with each other or bad. It didn’t seem to matter. She was always happy to see him. Thoughts of him were always with her.
Both of them huffed a little laugh before he said, “I guess some ladies would rather find out things for themselves than be told.”
She appreciated his words and wanted to tell him, but there was something more important she had to say, and the whole of it wouldn’t be easy. “I’m not here just because we couldn’t clearly define a family name from the crests. That is not the worst of it. Maman received a letter from her friend today saying the new vicar will arrive within the week.”
He gave a brief nod. “Time is short.”
“Yes. I admit I haven’t gotten very far on my own.” Her stomach quaked at what she was about to say, but she had to get it out. “I would like to propose an arranged marriage to you.”
His brow rose even higher than before, and his eyes studied hers. “That couldn’t have been easy for you to say.”
“It wasn’t. Admitting you were wrong about something never is.”
Nodding, Hurst asked, “What did you have in mind?”
Ophelia swallowed and said, “I will marry you and do my best to give you a son.” Was she as breathless as she sounded?
“And in return?”
“I would want my mother to live wherever I do and for our servants to be welcomed into your household staff as well. They have been faithful to us for many years, and I don’t want to turn them off.”
“There’s no reason you should. That is an easy requestto fill. I’ll make sure everything is arranged with Gilbert, and he’ll find a place for all of them.”
“Thank you, but there’s more.” She hesitated, not sure she could get the rest of her proposal out.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
“I am willing to listen to you, but I don’t want to be forbidden to do anything.”
He folded his arms across his chest and shifted his stance. “‘Anything’ is asking a lot of a man, Ophelia.”
“Specifically, I ask that you not hold me to the tradition of obeying you, as my husband, until after the issue with my brother and the chalice has been settled to my satisfaction.”
His expression was somber. “A vow before God is still a vow, Miss Stowe.”
She probably knew that better than most. Only a clergyman could have been to more services, teachings, and weddings than she had.
Suddenly she wished for another sip of the brandy to wet her dry throat. What she had in mind would be to go against something she’d been raised all her life to not only respect but cherish; the holy bonds of matrimony were not to be tampered with or taken lightly. Nevertheless, she couldn’t excuse the fact that she’d recently done a lot of things she never would have thought she was capable of doing.
“Only if the vow is taken in the right spirit.” She paused and moistened her lips to swallow down the raging feelings of guilt boiling inside her. “But just as a man can allow his wife to retain control of her monies and property if he so chooses, I assume you can release me from the vow to obey you. Perhaps the vicar can mumble the words softly under his breath or have a fit of coughing as he says them.”
He seemed to study carefully on that before saying, “You are asking a lot of me, Ophelia.”
“We are asking a lot of each other.”
“You are saying if I release you from the vow as my wife of you serving, obeying, cherishing, or any similar words to me as your husband, you will marry me?”
