1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

One year later . . .

Louisa stared at the man, her teacup suspended mid-air. She must have misheard him—she must have. There was no other explanation that would take root in her mind.

"Excuse me?" She lowered her cup to its saucer, only belatedly noticing how her fingers trembled. The motion created a faint clinking of china that filled the otherwise quiet room.

For several moments, all he did was stare at her.

Finally, his unflinching gaze moved to the floor while his finger tapped against his leg. "Do you wish me to repeat my question?" His eyes flicked to hers, but when she only nodded, he gave a quick dip of his head. "Very well. If you insist."

A small part of Louisa wanted to stand and shout and tell him she wished for no such thing. To yell that his next words would prove unfruitful and he need only save himself the embarrassment. But how could she? While known for her loose tongue, dismissing a man of his station without giving his request consideration was simply out of the question.

"Miss Morgan," he began once more, "would you do me the honor of accepting my hand?"

And there it was. The very question she expected to hear, all the while hoping it had been a dream. Or rather, a nightmare. For what on earth was she to do now?

Silence hung between them. It had been so long since Louisa had experienced such a tangible quiet, yet it wrapped itself around her in such familiarity that she questioned, for the briefest of moments, just how many years it had really been.

"Miss Morgan?" The man's inquisitive tone jerked her back to the situation at hand.

Louisa leaned forward, placing her cup on the table in front of her. "I fear I had not been expecting such a question today. Especially—" Her eyes traveled over him as words lodged in her throat. Her first thought had been to say, ‘especially not from you'— but she wondered if such a statement would seem rude to a man of his means. Perhaps another phrase would seem more polite. She clasped her hands in her lap. "Especially not from a man of your stature." There. That would likely puff up his pride and soothe any ruffled feathers from her not immediately jumping at his proposal. For in the minds of many, she would be mad not to accept the hand of a duke.

"I apologize if this comes at a bad time." The Duke of Boroux glanced about the room, his hair, similar in color to sand that was wet from being lapped by the sea, caught a ray of sun as he turned his head away from her.

Louisa still did not know what to say to the man, and so she remained quiet. Better that than make a quick quip about him only ever dancing with her once a year, then having the nerve to spring a proposal upon her on an unassuming Tuesday in June.

Apparently, it became clear she was content to be quiet, for he finally turned toward her. "Miss Morgan, does your silence imply you do not intend to accept me? In truth, I had not been expecting such a lengthy discussion about this. Though perhaps discussion is the wrong term, for you have scarcely spoken three words."

"I have certainly spoken more than three, Your Grace."

He raised his chin, looking down at her with narrowed eyes. "Are you mocking me?"

Blast her tongue. "I am not. As I already said, I am only attempting to make sense of all this. You must admit we do not know one another well."

The duke ran long fingers over his chin, tilting his head while keeping her gaze before finally dropping his hand to his side. "We have danced."

She gave a quick laugh before catching herself and schooling her features. "I cannot deny that claim. But, if I may be so bold, those dances have been as few as once a year. So the question begs to be asked—why are you requesting my hand?"

His chest rose and fell as their eyes remained locked on one another. "I had not been expecting you to ask that."

"And I had not been expecting a proposal from a duke, yet here we are."

Another uncomfortable beat of silence as he remained a man of stone standing before her. His wide shoulders were stiff and unrelenting under his immaculately pressed, superfine jacket. Everything about him demanded attention. His height, his stature, his expensive attire, his sure and steady gaze.

He gestured to the emerald-green armchair behind him. "Might I sit?"

She held her hand out. "Of course."

The duke took a seat, but instead of speaking, his eyes roamed the walls.

"Your Grace—" she began.

"—I need a wife, Miss Morgan." His eyes snapped to her. "And I feel you would suit my needs."

"Me?" An incredulous, bitter laugh slipped from her lips at his audacity. "I do not see why. I can think of no way I would be a help to you." Louisa swallowed her pride, which was a rather impressive feat for her. "Would you not prefer some young debutante? I am certainly coming to the end of my desirable years."

"Your years, as you so put it, are part of the reason I have proposed."

Goodness. Now what was she to say?

She dipped her chin. "I see." Very eloquent, Louisa. If the man is not in love with you already, he certainly will be now.

"From what I know of you, Miss Morgan, you appreciate candid responses. So let me make myself clear for you."

Finally.

"I am not good with words, and I will not pretend otherwise. I am uncomfortable in social situations and am poor at reading people and their attitudes toward me. And this brings me to my point." He drew in a slow breath. "I have noticed your ease of conversation with others and how you handle yourself in a room of people. It is effortless for you. That is what I need in a wife, and why I have singled you out."

Much to her dismay, Louisa felt heat rise to her cheeks. He had noticed her? Singled her out? Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought the Duke of Boroux ever deigned to willingly glance in her direction. Any time he asked her to dance, it always occurred when they happened to be standing beside one another in a crowded ballroom. Though, he did not say he noticed her for her beauty or any such thing. Rather, it was her ease of speaking with others. Surely she should not blush over such a thing.

She decided to be forthcoming as well. "I do not see myself making a good duchess, Your Grace. I am not poised or regal, and my conversation can be shocking at times. Or, so I am told."

He lowered his brow, his eyes probing hers as if trying to make sense of some mystery. Apparently, she was the mystery. "Miss Morgan, if I didn't know any better, I would say you are attempting to dissuade me in my pursuit."

Yes. She was.

Louisa huffed a breath, her patience waning thin. "I hardly call this a pursuit. You have never once called upon me or spoken to me other than when strictly required, yet you have the nerve to show up in my drawing room and propose marriage with the apparent expectation of a quick acceptance." She straightened her shoulders, taking in a tight breath through her nose as she attempted to calm herself. Getting her hackles up would only anger the man, and she didn't need a duke disliking her. For herself, she did not care. But she loved her family, and she didn't wish to make trouble for them.

"Exactly, Miss Morgan."

She scoffed. "And that's all you have to say for yourself? You believe that is an acceptable way to court a lady?"

"No, that is not what I meant to imply. I meant your retort."

Her mind scrambled to keep up. What was this man talking about? "My complaint about your idea of courtship?"

"The fact that you stood your ground and did not cower away. You may not believe you have the makings of a duchess, but it is quite plain to me that you do."

"I do not wish to injure your pride, Your Grace, but I have no intention of ever becoming one." Ha. She said it. Take that, you pompous man.

He leaned back in his chair, the casual motion strangely making him seem more powerful. It was not lost on Louisa that, as a duke, he did in fact hold great sway. She needed to be more mindful of her words.

"May I ask what your hesitance is on the matter? As you have said yourself, you are single after numerous seasons. I cannot see why you would not accept what I have to offer you."

"Quite confident in yourself, are you?" She managed to make the words come out innocently, but there was a fire stirring within her that defied her tone.

The duke steepled his fingers in his lap, his eyes landing on her without one iota of feeling within them. It was as if he suddenly wore a mask, and no matter what she did, she could not make out the man behind it.

"No. Not at all."

Now it was time for her mouth to drop open. It certainly took a level of confidence to show up at a woman's door and propose marriage when you have no sort of relationship to begin with.

"What I mean to say," he began, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair, "is that I am not confident in myself or my ability to romance any young woman. But I have confidence in my station in life and all that it would offer to the woman who accepts my hand. Which is why I am surprised at your reticence."

Ah. That did make some sense. But he was mistaken if he thought his power would be alluring to her. She did not want it.

"And what if the woman does not care for stations or any such thing?"

He pulled his arm back to his side, sitting straight in his seat. "I do not wish to make a fool of myself more than once. An acceptance would be preferable."

"Then perhaps you should be sure of a woman's feelings before proposing."

He stood, casually adjusting his cravat and pulling on his sleeves so they laid correctly at his wrists. "This is the situation, Miss Morgan. I have made my offer, and you would be wise to consider it. While you do not seem to care for me, my title would offer you a life of comfort and freedom. I would not have high expectations of your time or how you spend it, assuming you do so in a manner consistent with that of a duchess." He glanced down at the floor, his cheeks flushing a faint hue of pink. "I would ask you to attend any and all social events we are invited to, remaining by my side as much as possible."

His eyes came back to hers, and for the first time she noticed they were not brown, but a deep blue, so dark that from a distance one did not recognize the color.

He lifted his brow. "These are my expectations, and I lay them out for you to either accept or deny. I will be waiting for a response within a fortnight. Good day, Miss Morgan." He snapped into a tight, shallow bow before turning on his heel and exiting the room.

Louisa sat numbly in her seat as she stared ahead, her mind a blur. How had that just happened? She barely had time to consider it before she heard heavy footfalls that continued to grow louder, and then a shadow fell across her vision.

"Louisa, what did you say?"

Louisa peered up at her brother, finding him staring down at her with his brow tightly scrunched. "I fear I did not say much." Her hand went to her cheek, seeming detached from the rest of her body. "What was I to say? I had hardly been expecting such an offer today. Could you not have given me some warning?"

"I did my best to do just that." Henry sighed, sitting beside her on the settee.

"Really?" Louisa spun toward him. "It would have been done quite easily. ‘Louisa, the duke is here to propose marriage to you.' See? It is not so difficult." She flung backwards into her seat, crossing her arms over her waist as if that would help the growing nausea in her stomach dissipate.

"I did not feel it was my place to tell you what he wished to ask."

She skimmed her hand over her dress before bringing her fingertips to her brow, rubbing to alleviate the slight ache that was forming.

This was ridiculous. Why had the duke's proposal made her have such a violent reaction? It was not her first. Nor her second or her third. But the Duke of Boroux was easily the most powerful. And she was ashamed to admit it riled her more than she wished.

"So, did you tell him no?" Henry toyed with the lock of hair that hung over his brow.

"I did not tell him much of anything, to be honest. I did not say yes, but I also did not give him a definitive no."

"What?" Henry's head reared back before spinning toward her. "You did not tell him no?"

Louisa pinched her lips shut. "If you thought you knew me so well as to anticipate my answer, then why bother asking at all? Really, Henry. Sometimes you confuse me."

"You are not the only one confused." Henry leaned back so their shoulders lay side by side. "I had thought for sure you would have sent him out of here with his tail between his legs. Like Prince when he is found with one of my shoes."

"Prince has not taken one of your shoes in a long time."

"I hardly call three months a long time."

"Three months?" Louisa turned to him, thankful for a diversion in the conversation. "I do not remember that occasion."

"It wasn't my shoe, but one of Violet's new slippers that she bought for a dinner we were hosting."

"Oh." Louisa's face fell. "Yes, I do remember that. It's a good thing she cares for Prince almost as much as I do."

"And a good thing that Colin loves him, too. I am the only one in the family that seems to have an aversion to the annoying—" Henry faced her, the corners of his mouth turning down. He widened his eyes as he let his words fall. "Louisa, we are not talking about Prince. We are discussing what you plan to do with the duke's proposal."

Drat. And she had almost gotten away with it.

Unable to sit still any longer, she stood, walking a few paces away to stare out the window. "The season is almost over. Perhaps I can run away to Tunbridge a few weeks early."

Henry walked up beside her, shaking his head. "Nonsense. You must give the man an answer."

"But what if my answer wreaks havoc on our family? On you and Violet and little Colin?" She turned toward him, her chest burning. Her love of family was overwhelming at times, though she did not always do a good job of showing it.

Henry waved her off. "What can he do? We have done nothing wrong."

"But what if he does find something and you begin to lose sleep again—"

"Stop right there." Henry put a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "You are not going to accept any marriage proposal for my sake. I am a grown man and can handle myself. I have Violet now, and Colin. I am not facing things alone anymore."

Louisa nudged him with her shoulder. "And you have me."

He wrapped an arm about her, pulling her head closer to press a brotherly kiss to her temple. "Yes. And you never need to accept a man's offer for my sake. Only when you find someone who loves you as you deserve. As I love Violet."

Henry gave Louisa's arm one last squeeze, smiling at her before dropping his hand and walking from the room.

But his parting words did not settle her nerves. Unbeknownst to him, they only worried her more.