No Duke Will Do - Eva Devon Page 0,1
turned in a frown. “Mr. Heath is. . . He does not like to be bothered unless it is incredibly important.”
“Is a marriage proposal important?” she asked.
“A-A m-marriage proposal?” the footman stuttered, and then after a long silence, he continued, “Wait here please. Do not speak to anyone.”
She nodded, happily willing to do as he asked. And so, she found a good spot in the shadows—well, what few shadows were tucked behind a column—and studied the plays.
A guttural groan went up from one table, and a man dropped his head into his hands. He was beautifully dressed in silk, in a suit cut to perfection, embroidered with gold, and yet, his shoulders bowed.
That was her father.
Not literally, of course, but she could see it. The man must’ve just lost a considerable amount of funds. It was a shame many young men came to such a place and lost their life.
Surely, Richard Heath was the devil.
If there was any such man alive, he had to be it, for he facilitated the ruin of young men everywhere and the sin of ladies.
Surely, he was terrible.
And he was the man her father wished her to marry, all to pay off £30,000 in gambling debts. An astronomical sum.
And she was here to bargain with the man, for she was not going to be shunted off to be the wife of some terrible fellow for the rest of her life. No, she’d seen the way her mother was punished by her father, and marriage was an irrevocable link in which she would become a prisoner.
“Come for a bit of rough, is that it, Lady Mary?” a deep but polished voice said from behind her.
She shivered. It was a low rumble that had been smoothed out, she imagined with careful study. Like the most terrifying of caresses, it slid over her body.
Slowly, she turned.
The man was well over six feet. He towered over her. And yet, somehow, he had managed to slip up behind her without her being aware of it.
His coat was a black wool, cut to his broad shoulders. Shoulders so wide she could barely countenance it. He peered down at her with a hard face, no humor about him in that particular moment. But she spotted a slight sparkle in his eyes as if he was amused she had dared to find him.
“I don’t know what that means,” she replied honestly.
“Come with me,” he returned, “And I’ll show you.”
“I will come with you, but I’m not interested in any interaction beyond.”
His dark brow raised in a slight challenge. “Well, you must have wanted to have some sort of interaction, Lady Mary, or you never would have arrived upon my doorstep. But now that you’re here, I suppose I shall see what it is exactly that you want, and what you can do for me.”
“It is not what I can do for you,” she piped, her voice annoyingly high all of a sudden. “It is what you can do for me.”
“Ah, but I am not in the business of doing things for others without something done for me in return,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Which would explain why my father—”
“No,” he cut in. “Not here. If you wish to discuss your father, let us go into my private office.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I am not in the habit of going into private rooms alone with men.”
“I’m sure you’re not in the habit of coming to gambling clubs off Covenant Garden either, yet here you are. Consider it something new for you. An edifying experience.”
This entire outing was something entirely new. Something she could hardly believe she’d dared to do. But here she was. And so she gave a tight nod. “Lead on.”
He smiled at that. “You are not a bit of lace, are you, Lady Mary?”
She huffed. “I am not, sir.”
“Well, then,” he said. “Let’s see what exactly you’re made of.”
And so, she followed his broad-shouldered form as he wound his way through the crowded club. He drew back a tapestry and exposed a slightly hidden panel door at the back.
He opened it easily and ushered her into the dark corridor.
She stifled a gasp at being so close to him. Her body brushed against his slightly as she entered.
She should have been horrified.
She should have been repulsed, but she couldn’t be. He was far too handsome for that. Too intriguing.
He, like the club, was not what she had expected. He was no heinous gargoyle. No, he