Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,6

agree. Or was he simply that much of a gentleman?

Somehow she doubted that, having seen his face as he’d stormed from the library last night. He hadn’t even stopped to bid her good-bye. That had wounded her, but she couldn’t think about it right now. She had to figure out what she would say if he did offer.

It was a hard choice. After all, he was the first man ever to kiss her on the mouth. It had been shocking. Delicious. Utterly unexpected. She’d always thought kissing on the lips sounded unpleasant, but she’d enjoyed it. A lot. It still gave her swirly sensations in her stomach. Who could have guessed?

And when he’d slipped his tongue inside her mouth . . . Oh, Lord, she’d felt entirely out of her depth. He’d slid his tongue in and out, so slyly and pleasurably that it had enticed her to do the same with hers.

That had seemed to startle him, but not for long. With a groan, he’d caught her about the waist and pulled her up against him. It had been wildly exciting. She supposed most ladies would call it romantic, but she didn’t know about that. She wasn’t sure what “romantic” was, exactly, having never really experienced it for herself.

The clock sounded the hour, and she jumped. Now was the time when everyone paid calls. Not that anyone ever called on her. Olivia wasn’t good at offering pleasantries or making small talk about the weather, so she didn’t draw scores of admirers like some of the other ladies. It had never bothered her. Indeed, the daily ritual of waiting for callers was just something she had to get through so she could go to her uncle’s and help him with his experiments.

Part of her hoped the duke didn’t show up at all. Then she wouldn’t have to decide what her answer should be. She’d been weighing both sides all night, and still hadn’t made up her mind.

On the one hand, he was very handsome and apparently found her attractive enough to kiss. He was good at the kissing, too, though she had nothing to compare it to. And there was another point in his favor—if she married him, she need never make small talk again. He didn’t strike her as a small talk sort of person. That was certainly an advantage.

On the other hand, she doubted that His Grace would allow her to run her own chemistry experiments or to help with her uncle’s. A man of his consequence would expect an obedient, domestic sort of wife, and she wasn’t that. Why, she wasn’t even sure how she felt about bearing children.

And a small, foolish part of her—the part that had read fairy tales as a girl—wanted affection, even love, in her marriage. But that seemed a bit much to hope for from Thornstock.

The knocker sounded on the door downstairs, and she tensed. Several minutes later, the Duke of Thornstock was announced.

As he entered, she and her stepmother rose and curtsied. His Grace looked positively grim, which reinforced her fear that Mama had somehow forced him into offering.

That impression was only confirmed when he stood staring at her as if seeing right through her. “Good morning, Miss Norley. You look well.”

“As do you, Your Grace.” Heavens, but he did. His straight, dark brown hair had a reddish sheen, and his eyes were so light a blue they were nearly translucent.

He glanced at her stepmother, then back at her. “Miss Norley, I hope you will do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

She froze. He couldn’t have been more abrupt. For the first time in her life, she wished there had been a wee bit more small talk. “Why?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. Then he narrowed that ice-blue gaze of his on her. “Because last night I damaged your reputation irrevocably. And marriage is the usual recourse for that.”

Of course it was. Yet something wasn’t right here. Surely a duke could wriggle his way out of marriage to a virtual nobody, yet he stood there looking like a thief being dragged to the gallows.

She had no desire to be his executioner. If she must marry, it wouldn’t be to save her reputation. And it certainly wouldn’t be to a man who obviously now despised her. “Thank you, Your Grace, for your kind and generous offer. But I regret that I must decline it.”

“Olivia!” Mama said.

Olivia scarcely heard her, too intent on watching his reaction. She’d expected relief, but the