Page 30 of The Lion Duke's Proposal
"Because for as long as I can remember, I have been under the power of a man who did not deserve it," she said. "My father held every decision over our heads without ever making a good one. My uncle holds the roof over our heads and reminds us of it daily. And marriage—" She stopped. "Marriage would simplymean exchanging one master for another, and I have spent enough of my life being managed by men who see me as a convenience rather than a person." She glanced at him briefly. "At least as a spinster, the limitations are ones I understand. They are predictable. I know exactly what I have and what I don't."
"And that is enough for you," he said. It wasn't a challenge. Just a question, asked quietly.
She turned to look at him fully, then, with the directness she had deployed when she had decided to stop being careful. "It was," she said. "Until recently, it was quite enough."
He nodded thoughtfully, and she seized the chance to probe a little further into the enigma before her. “What about you? Why haven’t you ever married, Your Grace? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of opportunities and dozens of willing candidates.”
He shrugged. “Not all men are destined for marriage either.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Truly? That’s your answer?”
“Fine. I suppose I’ve simply had other priorities,” he said with a small smile. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“For now.” She fiddled with a stray lock of hair, then smiled at him.
“What?” he prompted.
“We now come to my second condition,” she replied. “When all of this is over, we must part on good terms, no matter what.”
The Duke’s eyebrows raised faintly, and Julia was highly satisfied in that she had been able to surprise him.
“You wish to remain friends?”
“Hmm…” She contemplated that notion. “I am not sure I imagined us ever becoming friends, Your Grace. All I seek is a smooth, amicable fracture in our ruse. We need not bear ill will toward one another when it concludes.”
“I bear you no ill-will, Miss Norish, and I would indeed appreciate the honor of retaining your friendship.”
His response was extraordinary. Before, he had struck her as being a bit difficult to read. But now, he was making statements that were filled with such genuine affection and reliability that she nearly swayed on the spot. His eyes were filled with warmth and admiration, rather than mocking, and she had to inhale deeply to regain her composure.
But what the Duke said had got Julia thinking, though, and she was suddenly reminded of something else she had been concerned about. “Oh! I have a third rule, as well.”
“So many.”
“I don’t want my father to end up imprisoned,” she said fervently. He leaned back, a frown forming across his features. “Don’t misunderstand me, Your Grace. I know he has done terrible things, and he must return and take responsibility for those he has wronged. On that much, we fully agree. He must work to pay off his debts to Society and to his family. But I do not wish to see him harmed or brought to trial for his misdeeds; he should make amends by repairing the damage he’s caused.”
The Duke’s mouth formed a hard line. “I’ve lost a great deal because of Lord Norish. I’m sure you understand that - you’ve also suffered for his sins.”
“Nonetheless,” she persisted, “he’s my father, and if you intend to take your revenge on him, I shan’t help you. This is about recovering what’s owed to us, nothing more. If you can’t agree to that...”
“I will fulfill my obligation,” the Duke cut her off.
Julia looked at him for a long moment.
He hadn't exactly answered her question. He had sidestepped it with the smooth efficiency of a man accustomed to closing conversations on his own terms, and she was not so desperate that she couldn't see that for what it was. She had spent twenty-four years watching her father say one thing and mean another entirely, and she had learned, if nothing else, to notice the difference between a promise and a deflection.
"That is not quite what I asked," she said.
His eyes met hers steadily. "No," he agreed. "It isn't."
"I would like to know what you intend to do with my father when you find him. I would like an actual answer, not a reassurance designed to end the conversation."
A beat of silence passed. Something shifted in his expression — not irritation, but a kind of recalibration, as though he was deciding how much of the truth she had earned.
"I intend to recover what belongs to Henry," he said. "And I intend to ensure your father cannot disappear again and leave more damage in his wake." He paused. "What form that takes will depend on the circumstances."
"That is still not a straight answer."
"No," he said. "But it is an honest one."
