wriggle away from him. “What do you intend?”
“Not one blasted thing, Lady Enid,” he said, “except to learn exactly what is behind this sermon of yours.”
“It’s not a sermon, sir, but the truth,” she said, her voice becoming less strident and more squeaky. “Father says I must marry you because you are a duke and very wealthy, sir, but I say you are no gentleman, and I will not do it.”
Sheffield sighed. He should be insulted and angry, even furious, at being rejected with such vehemence. He was a duke with royal blood, and dukes were supposed to be proud and ever mindful of their rank and position.
But while his knowledge of Latin might be lacking, his experience with women wasn’t. As soon as he saw how her determined chin had begun to tremble, he understood.
“Come, Lady Enid, tell me the truth,” he coaxed. “You love another, don’t you?”
“Yes!” she wailed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, he’s such a fine, learned gentleman, not at all like you!”
“I’m sure he is,” Sheffield said dryly. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “But despite the fellow’s many qualities, your father does not approve.”
“How—how did you guess, sir?” she sobbed, and blew her nose into his handkerchief, directly onto his embroidered ducal crest and coronet. “Joshua—that is, Dr. Pullings—is the most perfect gentleman imaginable, yet because he is only an ordained minister and scholar without any fortune instead of a fine lord, Father would never consider him fit for me.”
“What earl would?” Sheffield, hoping he sounded sympathetic. He was, too. Weren’t they both trapped on the same high-bred marriage-go-round? “How did you come to fall in love with Dr. Pullings?”
“He was my brother’s tutor,” she said, “and I was permitted to join them for lessons. Even though I was a female, Josh—Dr. Pullings, that is—took an interest in my education … and in me. And though we did not wish it, we soon fell in love.”
Could there be a more predictable tale? “But your father refused to listen to your poor vicar’s suit.”
Fresh torrents of tears spilled down her cheeks, and as she shook her head, they scattered over the front of her gown. “Father grew angry, cast out Dr. Pullings without notice, refused to give him the parish living he’d promised, and ordered me to marry you instead, and I—I will not. I will not !”
“You needn’t be quite so forceful about it,” he said, and with resignation offered his second handkerchief, always carried in the event he encountered weeping ladies such as this one. “Not that I wish to sound ungallant, but I have no more interest in marrying you than you do me.”
Her teary eyes widened. “Do you love another, too?”
“At present, no,” he said, feeling sheepish to admit such a thing. “But because I subscribe to the unfashionable notion of loving one’s bride for herself rather than her bloodlines, I would rather wait to marry until I do.”
She nodded eagerly. “Then come with me, sir, so that we might tell my parents, and end this foolish match now!”
“No, Lady Enid, I will not,” he said, holding her back. “Nor shall you. I may be a wastrel and a rake, but I also have a conscience, and I don’t wish anyone to whisper nonsense of you, or claim you were jilted.”
“Oh, sir,” she said softly, and he had the uneasy impression she was seeing him for the first time, there in the moonlight. “That’s most kind of you. I did not even think of it.”
“That’s because you’re a lady of virtue and honor,” he said wryly, unable to keep from repeating her earlier words to her, “and I live for scandal and intrigue. If you can bear it, let us continue as if we mean to obey our elders and wed. What better way to avoid matchmaking schemes than to already have been matched already?”
“Can we do that, sir?” she asked uneasily. “Pretend that way?”
“I can if
“Not one blasted thing, Lady Enid,” he said, “except to learn exactly what is behind this sermon of yours.”
“It’s not a sermon, sir, but the truth,” she said, her voice becoming less strident and more squeaky. “Father says I must marry you because you are a duke and very wealthy, sir, but I say you are no gentleman, and I will not do it.”
Sheffield sighed. He should be insulted and angry, even furious, at being rejected with such vehemence. He was a duke with royal blood, and dukes were supposed to be proud and ever mindful of their rank and position.
But while his knowledge of Latin might be lacking, his experience with women wasn’t. As soon as he saw how her determined chin had begun to tremble, he understood.
“Come, Lady Enid, tell me the truth,” he coaxed. “You love another, don’t you?”
“Yes!” she wailed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, he’s such a fine, learned gentleman, not at all like you!”
“I’m sure he is,” Sheffield said dryly. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. “But despite the fellow’s many qualities, your father does not approve.”
“How—how did you guess, sir?” she sobbed, and blew her nose into his handkerchief, directly onto his embroidered ducal crest and coronet. “Joshua—that is, Dr. Pullings—is the most perfect gentleman imaginable, yet because he is only an ordained minister and scholar without any fortune instead of a fine lord, Father would never consider him fit for me.”
“What earl would?” Sheffield, hoping he sounded sympathetic. He was, too. Weren’t they both trapped on the same high-bred marriage-go-round? “How did you come to fall in love with Dr. Pullings?”
“He was my brother’s tutor,” she said, “and I was permitted to join them for lessons. Even though I was a female, Josh—Dr. Pullings, that is—took an interest in my education … and in me. And though we did not wish it, we soon fell in love.”
Could there be a more predictable tale? “But your father refused to listen to your poor vicar’s suit.”
Fresh torrents of tears spilled down her cheeks, and as she shook her head, they scattered over the front of her gown. “Father grew angry, cast out Dr. Pullings without notice, refused to give him the parish living he’d promised, and ordered me to marry you instead, and I—I will not. I will not !”
“You needn’t be quite so forceful about it,” he said, and with resignation offered his second handkerchief, always carried in the event he encountered weeping ladies such as this one. “Not that I wish to sound ungallant, but I have no more interest in marrying you than you do me.”
Her teary eyes widened. “Do you love another, too?”
“At present, no,” he said, feeling sheepish to admit such a thing. “But because I subscribe to the unfashionable notion of loving one’s bride for herself rather than her bloodlines, I would rather wait to marry until I do.”
She nodded eagerly. “Then come with me, sir, so that we might tell my parents, and end this foolish match now!”
“No, Lady Enid, I will not,” he said, holding her back. “Nor shall you. I may be a wastrel and a rake, but I also have a conscience, and I don’t wish anyone to whisper nonsense of you, or claim you were jilted.”
“Oh, sir,” she said softly, and he had the uneasy impression she was seeing him for the first time, there in the moonlight. “That’s most kind of you. I did not even think of it.”
“That’s because you’re a lady of virtue and honor,” he said wryly, unable to keep from repeating her earlier words to her, “and I live for scandal and intrigue. If you can bear it, let us continue as if we mean to obey our elders and wed. What better way to avoid matchmaking schemes than to already have been matched already?”
“Can we do that, sir?” she asked uneasily. “Pretend that way?”
“I can if
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