Page 2 of Duke with a Deception
He wasn’t one.
Nor would he ever be.
If anything, King was a villain. A heartless, conscienceless rogue. A man whose past could blot out the good that had been done by Lady Verity with startling ease. A rot from within, like the proverbial apple that ruined the bushel.
“I can think of scarcely anything other than you,” she said. “This last week without you felt like an eternity. Do you think we might hasten our wedding day? After everything that’s happened, I don’t want to wait to be together.”
King stared at her, looking for any hint of teasing, some merriment in her expressive pale eyes, a twitch of her lips. But there was none. There was only her rapt, adoring regard, her countenance utterly guileless. No doubt about it, Lady Verity had meant every word she had just spoken. This was no sally, no elaborate ruse.
This was astonishingly real.
That was when it hit him, the truth of the astounding situation in which he suddenly found himself.
The blow she had taken to the head had somehow addled Lady Verity’s mind. She had confused him with her dead betrothed, the man to whom she had been so devoted that she had never carried on with her own life after his death. Everything made sense, from the way she looked at King to the tenderness in her voice.
And King was suddenly faced with an impossible choice.
Did he dare to explain the truth to Lady Verity and risk harming her slowly recovering mind?
Or did he proceed with the lie? Did he take this beautiful do-gooder who was so innocent and kind and make her his? Did he bask in her virtuousness and greedily claim all the love she had for another as his own?
The wickedness within him was tempted. Something shifted, like the mechanisms of a lock falling into place. What would bethe harm in playing along with her, at least until her memory was fully restored? Or, if she never remembered at all…
She could be his. He could have her. Mold her. Do whatever he wished with her. Seduce her, show her the pleasure of passion. What a potent aphrodisiac. So much temptation, laid before him in lavender silk.
Some part of him he’d thought long inured to any form of eagerness stirred. He’d never had an innocent before. No one as unsullied and good as Lady Verity had ever so much as cast a longing glance in his direction in years, lest her matchmaking mama sternly issue a crushing rebuke when they were alone.
It was wrong, and he knew it. But the devil had perched upon his shoulder, and King didn’t want the bastard to leave a stain on his immaculate coat. There was only one way to shake the fellow off, it seemed.
Do it, whispered a voice within.
Take her.
Make Lady Verity Saunders yours.
King held her gaze. “How soon do you wish to wed, my dear?”
She beamed, her lush lips curving upward, causing him to notice they rivaled the pink blush of freshly bloomed cabbage roses. “As soon as my brother will allow.”
Riverdale was going to be a problem. King knew it at once. But he rather enjoyed challenges. Perversely, the more someone was determined that he shouldn’t have something, the more King wanted it. He wouldn’t surrender until he had her. She was like a bounty waved before a pirate. Too tempting. Irresistible, in fact.
No, it was a foregone conclusion. Perhaps even preordained.
Lady Verity Saunders belonged to him.
“Shall I speak with him on your behalf, then?” he asked her smoothly, wondering how these sorts of matters went.
He’d never courted a woman. Never had harbored any misguided urge to marry. There was the presumption, of course, that one approached a lady’s father to request permission. Two problems with that in this particular instance—Lady Verity’s sire was dead, and she also believed they had already received her brother’s approval. That could be used to King’s benefit, he was sure.
“Would you?” Lady Verity asked, eyes wide.
“When he and the duchess return, perhaps,” he suggested.
Shortly after King’s arrival, Riverdale and his wife had excused themselves. They’d had an air of secrecy between the two of them, their eyes continually locking as if they engaged in communication only they understood. King had reckoned husband and wife—once estranged and newly reunited—were off in search of a hasty coupling.
It wasn’t done, to be sure. But it wouldn’t have been surprising. Riverdale was hopelessly in love with his wife. Any fool could see it. Except for Riverdale, until it had nearly been too late and he’d almost lost his lovely duchess to the same orphanage fire that had caused Lady Verity’s injuries.
“That would be excellent,” Lady Verity agreed. “If we both approach him, he shan’t be as likely to deny us, and we have waited long enough to be together.”
