Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,44

moved through Clara’s neck and shoulders. “You’re making a foolish mistake, Miss Wilson. You know that, don’t you?”

The duke’s harsh tone cleared her of any regret about rejecting him. She was now certain that she had done the right thing.

When she did not reply, he grabbed hold of her hand and pressed it against his cold lips. He began to drop hard kisses up her arm. “Maybe this is what a woman like you wants.”

All the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in disgust. Heart racing, she quickly wrenched her arm out of his grasp.

The duke’s petulant gaze shot to her face. Recognizing her revulsion, he sat up straighter. “I was right. Your interests do lie elsewhere. But I will have you know that I am still willing to marry you, and I would treat you with the respect that you deserve. You would not find that to be the case with the Marquess of Rawdon.”

Clara stared at him, dumbfounded. What did the duke know? No one had seen her leave the house the night before. The marquess had come to call on her properly once, but surely that wasn’t enough to suggest....

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”

“It is your choice, Miss Wilson. You can be a duchess, or you can be a slut.”

Clara sucked in a breath. She had never been spoken to in such a manner. She certainly had not expected this from the duke, who had always appeared to be the epitome of proper, gentlemanly behavior.

Fury began to rage inside her and she stood. “Please leave.”

She made a move to walk around the sofa and open the drawing room door for him, but he seized her arm.

“I will leave,” he said, “when you have realized your folly. You’ve attended two Cakras Balls and you have become besotted with a notorious rake. I saw the two of you together here in this very room at your sister’s assembly. Others did as well. I assure you, there were whispers. You do not emit purity, Miss Wilson. There is something unchaste about you, and you have associated yourself with the marquess—a known degenerate. I am willing to overlook that fact because the damage is still reparable at this point. I can offer you a respectable escape.”

“A respectable escape?” Clara jerked her arm from his grasp. “I asked you to leave.”

“I don’t believe you want me to do that.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because I have the power to destroy you, Miss Wilson. To put it in plainer terms, if you do not accept my offer, I most certainly will.”

“He said what?” Sophia asked, her voice brimming with indignation as she rose to her feet.

Clara sat numbly on the sofa, still in shock. “He told me that it was my choice. I could be a duchess or a slut. Needless to say, I didn’t tell Mrs. Gunther any of that. She is very curious about what happened.”

Sophia walked to the mantel. “I’m so angry I could spit. The Duke of Guysborough of all people. I always took him for a gentleman.”

“So did I. I was stunned.”

“As you had every right to be! He behaved deplorably!”

“Yes.” Clara gazed around the room. “But I, too, behaved foolishly, and I must accept some responsibility for this unpleasant state of affairs. If I had not lost my head with the marquess, none of this would be happening.” She stood up and paced the room. “If you must bar your door to me, Sophia, I will understand. Perhaps I should leave now and go back to America before this situation spins out of control. I don’t want you and James to be sullied by it.”

“Don’t say such things. We would never bar our door to you.”

“James might wish to, and he would have every right. He might want to protect Liam and John.”

“James will not wish it. You are a member of this family, and as far as he is concerned, you are under his protection.” Sophia crossed to the sofa and sat down. “Besides, this is as much my fault as it is yours. I should never have taken you back to that Cakras Ball. I’ve been a terrible chaperone.”

“No. If you hadn’t taken me, I would have found some other way to see the marquess again, and things could have been much worse. Or maybe I would have accepted the duke’s proposal and paid for such naïveté later.”

For a long time, neither of them said anything. The mantel clock ticked and Clara felt a

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