Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Livvy blinked, convinced her ears deceived her.
“I’m sorry. Did you just say, ‘make you my duchess’?”
“I did.”
“Are you . . . proposing? To me?”
He lounged in his chair, the model of masculine relaxation, but there was an odd tension in his frame that suggested he was more interested in her answer than mere curiosity.
“I realize receiving two proposals in one day is quite unprecedented, but I like to think I’m slightly more appealing than your Uncle Hubert.”
“But . . . you don’t want to marry,” she said stupidly. “The whole Ton knows it.”
His lips curved at her obvious shock. “I haven’t entertained the idea for a few years, it’s true. But your current situation has made me reconsider.”
“What do you mean?”
His fingers tapped his lips again. “We were just discussing convenience, weren’t we? Dukes are expected to marry. The matchmaking mothers won’t give me any peace until I do. Choosing a duchess would get them off my back forever.”
“That’s—” Livvy protested, but he cut her off.
“And becoming a duchess would solve most of your problems, too. You’ll have somewhere to live, be welcomed in society, and you can continue your work for King and Co., if that’s what you want. I wouldn’t dream of standing in your way in that regard.”
Livvy grasped the mantel for support. “I don’t understand.
You can’t possibly want to marry me. There must be a dozen women who’d jump at the chance to—” She paused and glared at him as a terrible thought struck her.
“You feel sorry for me, don’t you? Well, I don’t want or need your charity, Your Grace. I can—”
His snort of laughter stopped her mid-rant.
“You think I’m asking you out of pity?” His gaze roved over her face, then dropped lower, to her throat, her breasts, her waist. “I’m not that noble, I’m afraid.
If it were just about the convenience of having a wife, you’re right, there are any number of women I could choose for the role.
But you have the notable distinction of being the only one I want to take to bed so badly that I’m willing to marry you for it. ”
Livvy’s mouth fell open in shock. Heat scalded her skin. Surely he was joking?
“I’m afraid uncle Hubert was right,” Devlin continued, a laugh in his voice. “Lust really is an excellent motivation.”
Livy reassembled her scrambled wits and managed a scornful snort. “Oh, yes. You lust after me so much you’ve somehow managed to resist me for six whole years.”
“It was more of a trial than you could possibly imagine.” His tone was just light enough that she couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not. “But thankfully fate has intervened.”
He crossed his legs and watched her closely. “There is one small problem, however. I know how good we could be together. I want to worship you with my body, exactly as the wedding vows say.” He paused, noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her breathing became erratic.
“But I only want that if you want it too. I don’t want obligation, submitting to your husband out of duty.
Or because you’re worried about your financial future if you refuse.
I want you kissing me because you feel like you’ll die if you don’t.
Because you can’t sleep for thinking about my hands on your body, my lips on your skin. ”
Livvy could scarcely catch a breath. She’d never imagined he’d speak to her in this manner. She dreamed of him saying things like this, in her most private, wicked fantasies. Every inch of her was tingling with awareness, as if he were touching her in truth.
God, he was a silver-tongued devil. How on earth could he have this effect on her while still seated six feet away, across the room?
“I . . . don’t know what to say.” That was the truth. “If I accept, and . . . encourage your advances . . . how can you possibly know my motivation?”
“My thoughts exactly. Which is why I have a different offer for you. Stay until the end of the month, as my guest. I won’t touch you without your express permission.
If you want me, then you’ll have to ask.
Whatever happens between us will be entirely up to you.
Then, at the end of the month, you can decide whether you want to marry me or not. ”
“You’d still marry me, even if we’ve never . . . been intimate?”
He gave a careless shrug. “We’ve already discussed the practical benefits for us both.
If you choose to be my duchess, you’ll get the protection of my title, and access to all my worldly goods.
I’ll have my man of business draw up an agreement that gives you exactly half of my income for as long as we’re married. ”
“That would be extremely generous.” She said faintly.
He inclined his head in wry agreement. “I would, obviously, do my utmost to prove to you the delightful physical benefits of being married, but if you truly didn’t want me, or if the passion between us fades, then I’m sure we could come up with an arrangement that suits us both.”
“You mean, you’d take a mistress.” Her heart swooped in disappointment at the thought.
“And you could take a lover, provided you were discreet. We wouldn’t even have to have to live together if you didn’t wish it. You could live in the town house in London, or stay here at Hollyfield, and I’ll go to London. You could even travel abroad, if you like. Go on a Grand Tour.”
Livvy tried to regulate her breathing and think clearly. What he was offering was incredible, utterly unexpected. Any other woman would be biting his hand off at the chance to become the next Duchess of Dalkeith.
And yet.
The problem was the inequality of their feelings.
Devlin might desire her physically, but his heart wasn’t involved, whereas she’d been half in love with him for years.
Marrying a man who didn’t love her back would be setting herself up for heartbreak, but the temptation to discover exactly what making love with him would be like was incredibly strong.
Would it be worth the risk?
“If we get to the end of January and you don’t want to marry me,” he continued, “then you can leave, and you’ll be in a very similar situation to now; free to make your own way in the world.
You might not be quite so innocent, of course, but nobody will know.
Your friends at King & Co. might guess, if you don’t tell them, but they’ll support you whatever happens. ”
Livvy cleared her throat. “If we did become . . . intimate . . . what about the risk of conceiving a child?”
“We can take steps to ensure that doesn’t happen. If you choose to marry me, and want to try for a child, then I suppose the dukedom can have an heir or an heiress.”
He tapped his lips again. “I only have one condition. If we do wed, we’ll maintain separate bedrooms. When it comes to sleeping, I prefer to do it alone.”
Livvy wasn’t sure what to think of that. She’d always thought it might be nice to share a bed with a husband, for warmth and comfort, if nothing else, but she knew plenty of couples kept separate chambers.
She’d never actually shared a bed with anyone, so she had no idea if it was uncomfortable or not.
Maybe he’d had a bad experience in the war, forced to share barracks with twenty other soldiers, all snoring and groaning?
Maybe he snored, and was too embarrassed to admit it?
Either way, his preference for uninterrupted sleep didn’t seem like much of a concession compared to what he was offering her.
“That doesn’t seem unreasonable,” she managed.
His body seemed to relax a little. “Good.”
She studied him carefully. “What guarantee do I have that you’ll actually marry me, if that’s what I choose? How do I know this isn’t just a ploy to make me your mistress, then abandon me at the end of the month?”
“Do you want something in writing? I can have my man of business draw up an agreement, signed by us both. Or, if you prefer, I can send to the Archbishop of Canterbury for a special license right now, and we can marry as soon as it arrives. It should only take a week or so.”
“No!” Livvy squeaked. “I’m in no hurry to wed. I need more time to think before I make a decision of such . . . magnitude.”
He nodded, as if she was being eminently sensible. “Of course. Well, then. You’ll just have to trust my word. All right?”
Livvy nodded. “All right.”
She was saved from any further discussion by Fletcher’s smooth voice informing them that her room, and bath, were ready. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, and hurried to the door, tinglingly aware that Dev was watching her every move with the intensity of a hawk.
She turned to address him just before she stepped into the hall. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to have dinner brought up to my room.”
His lips curved in a mocking expression, as if he guessed her desire to avoid a dinner alone with him, but nodded his agreement to Fletcher, over her shoulder.
“Very well. You’ve had an eventful day, after all. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Livvy was about to escape when his rich voice floated after her.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask one of the servants.
Or come and find me. My suite’s right next to yours.
” His tone was rich with amusement. “In fact, I do believe there’s a door that links the two.
There’s a key on your side, of course, so you can lock it.
But if you want me—for any reason—I’m entirely at your disposal. ”
Her heart stuttered in her chest as his earlier words rose up in memory. If you want me, then you’ll have to ask.
Oh, God. The man was dangling temptation in front of her like the serpent in the garden of Eden. How on earth was she going to resist him?
And did she even want to resist?
“Good night, Miss Price. Sweet dreams.”