Page 64 of The Duke's Rules Of Engagement
“Propose? What the devil are you talking about?” Winthrop asked at the same time.
Cole just stared at him openmouthed.
Damn, he thought the entirecountryknew that he’d been courting Miss Cherrington. He’d just found it rather odd that none of his friends had asked him about her. He figured they had simply been allowing him his privacy—which the rest of London, it seemed, had no problem invading. “Don’t you ever read the gossip columns?”
“No!” all three men answered in unison.
“The society papers? The broadsheets?”
They shook their heads.
“Are you completely deaf to the rumor mill?”
“We try to be,” Cole said.
“Do you talk to anyone? Anyone at all?” For God’s sake, Matthew had been bombarded with information and speculation about his courtship of Harriet Cherrington from all sides.
“Just you lads,” Jameson said.
“I have been busy,” Winthrop said. “I have no time for gossip.”
“I talk to everyone in London.” Cole scratched his head, his eyes narrowed as if he was digging deep for some sort of recollection. “I may have heard something about you expressing vague interest in some society chit. But a proposal? No. I’ve heard no such thing.”
Shaking out his dripping fingers, Matthew took a rag from the shelf and wiped his hands. “Well, I’m proposing.” He shrugged. “Maybe tonight.”
Jameson raised his hands in the universal gesture to stop. “Pause a moment, there, Crest. First of all,whois Miss Cherrington?”
Winthrop narrowed his eyes. “Second, why are you proposing?”
“Miss Cherrington is the niece of the Earl of Wydwick. I’m proposing because I wish to marry her.”
“Cherrington,” Cole mused. “I know a nephew of the earl—Charles Cherrington—he’s a friend of my brother-in-law. I hear he has an assortment of sisters. Are you referring to one of them?”
“Yes.”
“Butwhy?” Winthrop asked.
“Why does anyone propose?” Matthew asked.
That seemed to stump Cole and Jameson, who looked as repulsed by the act of proposing as they would be by kissing a rabid wolf.
But Winthrop didn’t hesitate. “Because you love her beyond measure.”
The man was starting to sound like the matchmaker. Matthew cast his eyes heavenward.
“And I find it impossible to believe you love this woman beyond measure,” Winthrop continued, “since you’ve never spoken a word of her to us until two minutes ago.”
Matthew refused to take Winthrop’s bait. “I assumed you knew all about it,” he said, moving over to throw the rag into a bin. Soiled cloths brimmed over the top—he’d have to take them home for washing. “All of London is muttering about it behind their cheroots and fluttering fans.”
“Wait…shouldn’t you ask her father first?” Cole asked.
“Her father is dead.”
“Well, her guardian, then. Don’t be obtuse, Crest. You know what I mean.”
“That would be her brother. I thought I’d ask him once I asked her, since he won’t say no.”
It wasn’t false confidence that made him say it. It was absolute fact. The Cherringtons belonged to the impoverished side of the Earl of Wydwick’s family. Hell would freeze over with pineapple ices from Gunter’s before Charles Cherrington would refuse the Duke of Crestmont, along with the title and the massive fortune, for his sister.
