Two Lady Scoundrels and a Duke - Tessa Candle Page 0,25
penny for these thoughts.” There was something beyond lust in his eyes. A spark of hope flickered within her. Could it be more than honour that motivated his proposal? Might he truly have feelings for her still?
“I will not drag them out of you.” He stood to retrieve a sheaf of papers before returning to his seat. “But I do have something of value to offer, nonetheless.”
He handed her the documents and she thumbed through them. “What is this?”
“It is your security. This property is now yours—or will be as soon as the transfer is complete. I have set up a trust to hold it for you as the beneficiary. It is sufficiently funded to pay the taxes for your lifetime.” He looked at her earnestly, as though trying to detect her thoughts.
Hot tears welled up in her eyes. So this was his business in the village—well that and rounding up staff, food and trappings to make her hovel more comfortable. He was so good, and yet all the hope drained out of her. He would never have bought this place for her if he had intended to propose marriage. Surely his proposal was only an afterthought, a means to protect her in the face of Marie’s threats. She sighed.
“I cannot tell if those are tears of joy or of sadness. Please tell me you will accept it, Kat. May I call you Kat now?”
She nodded, unable to speak for fear of dissolving into a sobbing mess. She no longer had any compunction about accepting his gift, for she knew how unjustly she had mistrusted his motives before. It was a sick twist of fate that this miraculous rescue from ruin should now appear to her as an awful curse, a sure sign that she could never accept his kind offer of marriage.
He smiled encouragingly. “I wish you would not cry, my dearest Kat. I feel so happy at this moment, except that I suspect there is something troubling you. Will you not tell me what the matter is? Surely I can help?”
“I—” she croaked. “I do not know how to thank you for this, Foxleigh.”
He shook his head. “Your gratitude embarrasses me. This seems like such a small thing. I wish to do so much more for you. Will you not let me take you away with me to some much nicer place?”
Was he offering her carte blanche? Her nipples hardened at the thought. And why should she not accept? She shook her head and hid her streaming eyes in her palms. Of course he was not.
He seemed to sense what she was thinking, for he sputtered, “Um, I meant after we are married, of course. I have a special license. I know it was presumptuous of me but—”
“A special license?” Kat looked up from her hands, sniffling. She could barely breathe to ask the question. “Did you get it while you were away in the village?”
“When else? Took some doing, but it never ceases to amaze me what a duke can get prepared for him rapidly.”
She was panting. He had meant to ask her before Marie even showed up. She swallowed and fixed his dark eyes with her own. “And you did not offer to marry me, merely because you feel sorry for me? To rescue me from poverty?”
“Offer to marry you?” He shook his head in confusion. “I am begging you to marry me. I bought this property to rescue you from poverty. I proposed because I love you. I have never stopped loving you, you marvelous little lunatic! How could you construe it any other way? Even as I signed the papers, I wished with all my heart to take you away from this place, but until you agreed to be my wife, I had to be certain you would not suffer. And…”
“And?” she whispered, her heart threatening to burst.
“I wanted to be sure that if you no longer loved me, if you could not love me again, that desperation would not force you to accept me. I could not do that to you.” He laughed sardonically. “Though I suppose I need not have had any concerns on that head. The woman who would rather run away on foot with nothing but her chickens and dog than accept my offer is not likely to be swayed into marriage by dire necessity. But I hope, Katherine—is it not possible that in time you might grow to—”
She interrupted him, shaking her head at her own stupidity. “That woman