Page 17 of A Bride for the Ruthless Duke

“Then wait a little longer,” he said.

“For what?”

“For me to deserve you.”

It was foolish, and romantic, and exactly the kind of sentence a sensible woman would distrust.

Ellen treasured it instantly.

“And, Ellen,” he said.

“Yes?”

He took her hand again, and this time he did not bow over it. He held it simply on his own knee, his fingers closed around hers with a warmth that made the room tilt around its own quiet center.

“Do not encourage anyone,” he said. “Anyone at all.”

She stared at their joined hands. “Whom should I encourage?”

“No one.”

“That is a broad command.”

“I know it.”

“And you issue it very seriously.”

“I feel it seriously.” His thumb pressed once against her glove. “I could not bear it. Tell me there is no one I need fear.”

The laugh that came from her then was not the colonel’s-grey laugh. It was smaller, breathless, and much more dangerous to her.

“Encourage whom?” she asked. “There has been no Season for me this year. There has not been a ball in three months that would have me. I have been hoarding my last good pair of gloves for the few evenings small enough to forget I am ruined.”

His expression darkened. “Do not say that.”

“It is true enough.”

“It is not true to me.”

She looked at him, and every foolish part of her believed him.

“There is no one, Lieutenant,” she said. “There has been no one since the night behind that curtain, and you know it, and you are very cruel to make me say it aloud.”

“I am cruel,” he agreed softly. “I am sorry for it.”

“You do not sound sorry.”

“I am sorry for the cruelty. I am not sorry to have heard it.”

“That is a wicked distinction.”

“It is an honest one.” His hand tightened around hers. “Say it again.”

Ellen’s heart beat so fiercely that she was certain he must hear it. “No.”

“No?”

“If you wish to be cruel, you may do it without my assistance.”