Chapter Seven #2
He exhaled and sat back in his chair. ‘As am I. And I am glad to hear your injuries were not more serious.’
She nodded and swallowed, still uncertain as to where their conversation was headed.
He shifted in his chair. ‘I am grateful for how you interceded on my daughter’s behalf to protect her.
’ He shook his head and a bit of a smile emerged.
‘I cannot say that I have ever before seen a woman face off against two men in such a way. It was brave, Miss Potts. You and Millie could have been seriously hurt or…’ His voice trailed off and his scowl returned.
She sat frozen.
‘Which makes what I am about to ask of you…difficult. But knowing how much you care for my daughter, I thought I would dare it, for her sake, especially after speaking with Dr Kemplar. Despite how dubious a request it is.’
Dubious? Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, uncertain about what he would say next, but intrigued to know. What dubious needs could a duke like him have? If only Ophelia was here, she would know. She had the keenest imagination of anyone Hattie knew.
‘I would like to extend your offer of employment not only as Millie’s governess, but also as my fake betrothed. I think a Lady Penelope Denning would do nicely,’ he said, his words rushing out. ‘But if you prefer another name, I am open to such possibilities. Do you think you could do that?’
She could have sworn he said something about pretending to be his betrothed, but surely she had misheard every word.
‘I am sorry, Your Grace. I do not think I understood you properly. I would love to remain on as Lady Millie’s governess, but that last part…
Did you say you wish for me, an orphan from Stow, to also pretend to be your betrothed as some other person entirely? ’
A beat of silence passed and then His Grace sat back in his chair, his hands sliding down the curved wooden armrests before covering the painted gold flowers at the ends. He met her gaze. ‘Yes, Miss Potts, that is exactly what I wish for you to do.’
Not even Ophelia would have anticipated this request. Hattie was torn between the shock of silence and the wild laughter of disbelief and confusion. He stared at her and waited.
She asked the only thing she could think of. ‘Why?’
‘A fair question,’ he replied and stood.
He walked along the outline of the room as he thought and tucked his hands in his trouser pockets.
She couldn’t help but notice the fine cut of them and how they, along with the slim cut of his waistcoat and jacket, accentuated his muscular build.
She slid her hand over the new stain she spied on her dress to cover it as best she could.
This whole scene was ridiculous. Why would this man need a woman like her to be his pretend betrothed? He was a duke, he was handsome and had all the time and wealth in the world at his disposal. He could find an eager wife in the time it would take him to blink.
He paused in front of the portrait of the late Marchioness and faced Hattie.
‘In the simplest terms, Miss Potts, I cannot take a new bride, but the ton will give me and my daughter no peace until I am adequately…
unavailable to help quash the rumours they create to sell their gossip sheets.
I cannot ask a woman of high Society to fill such a role as they all know one another and will talk about such a ruse and embarrass me.
‘So, my hope was that you being from Stow and far removed from here and someone who cares for my daughter and whom my daughter adores would help me with this…endeavour.’
‘You mean lie to everyone?’
‘Yes.’ For some reason, his truthful reply astonished her.
He supplied no excuse for what he had asked.
‘After speaking to Dr Kemplar, I feel I must do something drastic to protect my daughter. He said we cannot risk more situations such as this morning. She is too fragile and such occurrences will only set back her progress and recovery.’
Hattie nodded and looked down at her hands briefly before daring to glance up and ask the question that was plaguing her to her core. ‘Again, Your Grace, why me? Who in the world would look at me and believe I am a lady of…anything?’
He smiled at her, a deep full smile that made the air flutter in her chest. ‘It is no secret my daughter adores you, Miss Potts. You are willing to risk your life to keep her safe as I have seen this morning. Also, you are not of the ton and, from what I can see, do not have a deceitful bone in your body. In short, I trust you. And I believe with the right clothes, hair and training in the ways of Society, you would be quite…believable.’ His gaze roved over her slowly, hesitating on her face. ‘Quite believable, in fact.’
Warmth flushed her cheeks. She couldn’t utter a word.
‘I know it is an unseemly and deceitful request, Miss Potts, but I do it for my daughter. As you know, she has not spoken since my wife died over a year ago and losing her grandfather recently has hit her even harder. We cannot grieve and heal with the circus of people around us and all these reporters and fortune hunters nipping at our heels for information to sell to a gossip sheet. All I want is peace for us, for Millie, so that she can be happy again. So she can be the laughing, joyful girl she once was. Can you understand that?’
His direct and unvarnished plea unsettled Hattie. How could she deny the young girl anything? Certainly there was no harm in asking questions. Asking wasn’t agreeing to anything.
‘And your staff? Do they know of your plan?’
He smiled. ‘Not yet, but I believe they would be willing to go along with the ruse if you were. For Millie’s sake, of course. They are also quite fond of you from what I can see.’
‘And how are you planning to make people believe I am this…?’
‘Lady Penelope Denning?’ he supplied. ‘Have you ever read the story “Cinderella”?’ he asked.
‘No. I haven’t.’
‘It is where I got the idea. It is the story of a girl who is overlooked and treated poorly after her father dies. She dresses up for the royal ball in disguise with the help of a few fanciful creatures. The Prince falls in love with her, not knowing who she really is. She is transformed into a princess. Although I do not believe you will require anything as fanciful as birds and a glass slipper to transform you into my fake bride-to-be for the evening, I believe you can play the part.’ He smiled and chuckled as if what he said made all the sense in the world.
She stared at him blankly.
‘Here,’ he said and set a book before her.
‘Read the story. Think over what I have said. Even if you refuse to be my fake betrothed, I still wish for you to stay on as governess for Millie. I just wanted to try for you to be both and minimise any additional exposures to strangers for my daughter’s sake. ’
She was stunned by his belief in her, so much so that she tumbled into her next question without hesitation, leaning forward. ‘And if I agreed, when would I be presented to your friends as this Lady Penelope Denning?’
‘Next weekend at the ball celebrating my succession as Duke of Wimberley,’ he replied, holding her gaze.
He said it with confidence and certainty as if a mere week was all the time anyone would need to prepare her for such an event.
She was quite certain His Grace, despite being as young as he was, had lost his faculties.
‘Seven days?’ Miss Potts asked after staring at him blankly. Her brown eyes widened further in alarm.
William shifted in his chair. ‘Yes,’ he answered simply.
His pulse increased with each enquiry she made.
He hadn’t expected to even be able to keep her in the room this long, let alone have her asking questions as to how this whole scheme might work.
He should have planned for more success and thought the next steps of his plan through.
Especially when the woman might just say yes. Hope flickered in him.
‘How would that be possible?’ she asked.
‘As you have noted, I am a duke. You would be amazed at how quickly I can acquire anything I need. People fall over themselves to please me.’ His answer sounded entitled and snobbish, but he needed to prove his point.
She scrunched her nose at him and his answer, which made her look even younger, and he chuckled in amusement.
‘I did not say it was not distasteful, but it is true. Arrogance aside, whatever you need, or whatever the household needs to make you into Lady Penelope Denning, can be acquired and acquired quickly.’
‘You do not worry that the people supplying what you require will expose your scheme?’ Her brow furrowed.
‘There is a tight circle of those who I know have great discretion and I would not stray outside of those trusted few for what is needed. Dressmakers, stylists, and those versed in etiquette will support us in our ruse.’
She looked down at her hands in her lap and fidgeted with her gown. Her hands were small, delicate and strong, much like her. The more he studied her features, the more surprising little treasures of loveliness he discovered.
Another minute passed. There was something else concerning her, but he did not know what it was.
She finally glanced up and met his gaze, looking every bit as timid and small as the brown wren she appeared to be when she’d first emerged from his carriage a week ago.
‘As much as I am…honoured by your belief in me, Your Grace, I do not believe anyone would look at me and not see what I truly am.’
‘And what is that?’ he asked, not understanding her meaning.
‘I am an orphan from Stow with no real family or breeding.’ She said this with certainty and finality as if this single sentence explained all.
It didn’t. He waited for her to continue. ‘I do not quite understand,’ he finally said, hoping for more.