The rest of his speech registered a moment later. “What do you mean you’ve taken care of him?”
Nicholas pressed his mouth to her temple in a gentle caress. “There are some advantages to being high placed and wealthy. I paid Lord Wynn a call this afternoon. Let’s say he and I came to an understanding. He’s still alive, for now anyway.”
Shocked, she stirred, lifting her head so she could see his face. “Nicholas—”
He meant what he’d just said. She saw it in the glittering anger still in his eyes, despite the tender hold of his arms.
His smile held no trace of humor. “I’m confident he was convinced, especially with my hands at his throat. I suppose my reaction was barbaric, but warranted, I think, considering my feelings for you. I’d have had him prosecuted and punished except I was sure you wouldn’t want to endure the publicity of the ordeal. The same for calling him out. Your name would still be bandied about and I promised you discretion.”
Her heart had started a slow, hard pound. His thighs felt like iron under her bottom, his arms strong and sure.
. . . my feelings for you . . .
Nicholas whispered in her ear, his breath warm, “Did you not say you love me because of who I am, not what I am? Not the duke, but the man himself.”
She could feel her lips tremble as she attempted a smile. “You know I did.”
He gathered her closer, his arms cradling her. “Once, a long time ago, I mistook the words
I love you
as an interest in my heart, not my title and fortune. I was young and brash and stupid and she was older and supremely venal.”
Caroline had wondered exactly what had made him so wary of any emotional involvement. She rested in his embrace, silently willing him to tell her.
His mouth curved in that humorless smile, his dark eyes shaded by those long thick lashes. “I discovered Helena’s true nature the hard way, by having the privilege of finding her in bed with another man. I learned later she’d planned all of it, from our very first meeting. She confided in one of her other lovers well before she and I ever met she had her eye on my title and the fortune and prestige that went with it. So she deliberately wheedled a friend to introduce me to her, fell into my arms with convincing enthusiasm, but neglected to discontinue her other associations. You might find this a little hard to believe, but at eighteen, I was naive and a romantic.”
She had experienced a similar disillusionment at the same age when she married. “I understand.”
“The humiliation when I realized just how many people knew exactly what she was doing and how easily I was led is hard to shake. I then embarked on a mission to destroy the persona of Nicholas Manning, the susceptible young duke.”
It was difficult to imagine him other than easily confident and sophisticated in every way. Nicholas’s devil-may-care charm was like polish on a precious stone.
Caroline smiled and touched his jaw. “I think you succeeded.”
His mouth twisted. “God knows I tried. For the past decade I have played at love in the physical sense, but kept my distance otherwise. I vowed I would never make a mistake like that again.” He made a small gesture of uncharacteristic helplessness with his hand. “But despite my wariness, I believe you aren’t lying about your feelings. I wouldn’t hurt you to save my own life and you’ve made it clear being lovers is out of the question. I think we have no options left but the obvious. I’ve thought of nothing else lately and it has my life upside down.”
“I vowed to never trust any man enough to marry again.” Caroline felt the horror of the day fade, the frustration and bewilderment in his tone more persuasive than any honeyed words of love. “So, see? We share the same misgivings.”
His eyes held a grave light. “What if we both broke our inner promises? Is that a good way to begin a life together?”
She felt a welling emotion, so powerful she could barely speak. “I think, considering the nature of the promises and why they were made, yes, I believe it would be an excellent way to start over.”
Finally it came. A lift of the corner of his mouth first, and then a wicked glint in his eye. The Devilish Duke resurfaced. “As if I was going to give you a choice. Even my mother told me I’d be an idiot to not insist upon a swift wedding. She is very free with her advice and I take it sparingly, but in this singular case I agree with her.”
He’d discussed her with his family and they approved?
“Does she realize I’m barren?” It hurt to say it. God, how it hurt.
“She pointed out you are young yet, and there is no absolute proof of the matter. Besides, I believe she is so relieved to see me contemplate marriage with something other than grim resignation and detachment. She finds my feelings outweigh her concerns over the legacies of titles and money.”
Caroline felt dizzier than ever, but now it was happiness that had her head whirling. “What will she think about the scandal?”
“What scandal?”
How like him not to worry over it.
“If Franklin—”
“I told you I took care of it. He won’t say a word, trust me.”
“I do trust you.”
It came so easily, because it was true. Nicholas moved, standing up and settling her back on the small seat as he went down on one knee before her, his handsome face still and serious. He took her cold hands in his and held them in gentle persuasion. His gaze was seeking, searching, and she felt it to the depths of her soul. “Do you? Enough to take a chance on a man who has a reputation like mine?”
Was the Duke of Rothay really kneeling at her feet, offering marriage? Every woman in London would swoon to be in her position. Perhaps every woman in England . . . or on the whole Continent . . .
“Nicholas.” Her voice was nothing but a husky rasp.
“I could use a ‘yes’ to ease some of my nervousness, Caroline.”
Nicholas Manning nervous? She could feel the slight tremor in his long bronzed fingers as they held hers, and there was a strained look around his mouth she’d never seen before. Gone was the arrogant aristocrat and in his place was the man she’d fallen in love with so easily, the gentle, considerate lover who had denied himself to reassure a fearful woman, the man who spun dreamlike moonlit evenings and romantic dances on terraces and sensual, clandestine carriage rides.
“Yes.”
The tension eased, his fingers tightened momentarily, and the flash of his smile held reckless triumph. Still kneeling, he told her, “I’ve been racking my feeble brain trying to think up the most romantic way possible to do this. None of my ideas included that blackguard Wynn being the catalyst.” He paused and said with wry inflection, “I’m afraid I have never proposed before.”
“I’ve never been proposed to either,” Caroline admitted, her throat thick with emotion, “but in my judgment you did a fine job.”
Nicholas lifted one of her hands to his mouth and brushed a kiss across the backs of her fingers. One dark brow quirked upward. “Forgive me for sounding like an autocratic husband even before our new vows are given to replace our old ones, but your judging days are quite over, my love.”
Epilogue
The silk wrap slid from her shoulders and Caroline swallowed a lump of nervousness that lodged suddenly in her throat. The footman whisked off with it and she felt the slight pressure of her husband’s hand at her back.
Nicholas peered down into her face. “Are you quite sure you are up to this? You didn’t feel well this morning. I can always summon the carriage back around.”
She smiled and hopefully did a credible job. “This must be done sometime. Now is as good as any.”
It was better done now, though he didn’t know it yet, than in a few months. The suspicion she might be with child filled her with an exultant joy she couldn’t yet trust. Her courses had always been very much on time, but she was late, and there were a few other things pointing a finger in that direction, including her earlier indisposition. While emptying her stomach into a basin each morning wasn’t exactly bliss, the idea of being pregnant with his child was heaven.
That afternoon in the glen in Essex. It had happened then. Somehow, she was sure of it.
“I agree. Let us get this over with as quickly as possible. Though I am not much looking forward to it.” Next to her, Annabel Drake, the new Countess of Manderville, smiled nervously. She looked dazzling in a peach-silk gown that set off her fair coloring to an advantage, her golden hair swept into an intricate coiffure. “Ever since the announcement in the paper appeared that due to unforeseen circumstances the two of you have canceled the wager, Margaret says all of the beau monde is quivering to know why. I imagine this evening will be interesting, to say the least. Everyone will be talking about us.”
Beside her in elegant brown and cream evening wear, his blond hair framing those features that set so many female hearts to fluttering, her tall husband had an amused look on his face. Derek drawled, “I assure you the worry over this is for naught. There will be an initial few twitters and then everyone will forget about the four of us.”
“Exactly.” Nicholas adjusted his cuff and looked unruffled. “I have to think this is a rather brilliant plan if I do say so myself.”
“Since it was all your idea,” Caroline murmured, and shot him a rueful glance. “It sounded good at the time you proposed it, but right now it is daunting.”
It
had
been his inspiration. Two special licenses, a double discreet wedding, since none of them had any interest in either a long engagement or more scandal, and no public announcement of their nuptials in the society section of the newspaper. The subterfuge had spared them more drama so they could enjoy a few days alone together before the
haut ton
caught whiff of the titillating news that the two most notorious rakes in London society had married on the same day.
One of them to a standoffish widow who had a reputation for being unattainable but had been lured into Rothay’s bed, and the other to a young woman who had severed her engagement to give in to Lord Manderville’s persuasive charms. Or similar versions, embellished into a cloud of speculation, no doubt.
It was easy to imagine the rumors that would fly. Caroline took a deep breath and clasped her husband’s arm. The wager also would come up. Of course it would. A united front for the four of them did seem best.
“Ready?” Nicholas, more dashing and handsome than any man had a right to be in black-and-white tailored clothing, flashed a reassuring smile. “Just act as if we are the only people in the room.”
“I’ll try.” She lifted her chin and affected her most detached expression.
Derek and Annabel went first down the sweep of the staircase. The ballroom below was crowded and noisy, but when the butler announced in his lofty, stentorian voice the Earl
and
Countess of Manderville there was a sudden lull in the hundreds of conversations.
Caroline braced herself as they followed.
“The Duke and Duchess of Rothay.”
The room fell silent. Even the orchestra stopped playing.
Oh yes, not nerve-racking in the least,
Caroline thought with cynicism, hoping she looked as collected and composed as ever, but her color was high. She could feel the warmth in her face under the stunned gazes of several hundred people.
As if half of London wasn’t gaping at them, Nicholas murmured in a noncommittal tone, “I do hope the champagne is not too warm. I detest the stuff unless it is properly chilled.”
That’s what he was worried about? The temperature of the beverage he might be served? Caroline couldn’t help it; she laughed. The sound floated out into the hushed quiet and something snapped, the unearthly hush replaced by a babble of voices.
Perhaps not such a bad plan after all. If Caroline could endure this evening, then the worst was really over.
The surge of the well-dressed guests eager to give their congratulations—and of course hoping for some sort of juicy tidbit on the secret romances—was overwhelming, but Nicholas stayed at her side, fending off the obvious questions in his inimitable way, usually with little more than a lifted brow. After the grueling first hour, he managed to extract them from the crush and pulled her onto the dance floor for a waltz.
“Some answers,” he said, “are better done with actions than words.”
At first she wasn’t sure what he meant.
Until she noticed how close he held her. Very close. Rather like the evening on the terrace at his estate in Essex when they were alone. She’d thought it scandalous then. In this setting, with the eyes of all the
ton
upon them, it was even worse.
They didn’t call him the Devilish Duke for nothing. Her first urge was to put a decent distance between them. They were going to be talked about enough already.
“No.” The circle of his arm didn’t ease as she tried to push away a fraction. “Let them see.”
“See what?” Caroline argued on a low hiss of protest. “That being the subject of every gossip doesn’t bother you? That, they already know. It does, however, bother me.”
“Let them see I love you.”
She stumbled over the hem of the diaphanous gown of midnight blue she wore at his request, her skirts swirling around his legs as they moved. But his arm was around her waist keeping her upright with inflexible support, and his dark eyes held hers, poignant with emotion. As the music rose and fell, she lost track of the intent crowd, the whispering, the avid stares. A happiness she didn’t think possible turned the night from a trial into a triumph.
Nicholas bent his head so his mouth brushed her temple as they moved into a turn, the warm caress much too personal a gesture for hundreds to witness.
She didn’t care.
I love you.
He hadn’t said it before and she hadn’t demanded it either.
Maybe he was right. She was sure the gossips were wondering how the distant Lady Wynn had captured the handsome, wicked duke without society ever seeing them do as much as exchange a glance.