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He wants an heir. That means we’ll have to share a bed.

Don’t be childish, Emily. Not just sharing a bed—that implies sleeping, and there won’t be much… Goodness, I should not think this way.

She cleared her throat, praying for the flush in her cheeks to go away. Respectable ladies did not think about bedding gentlemen. Respectable ladies did not even know about the process until their wedding nights.

Octavia, of course, scorned such nonsense and ensured that her daughters were instructed in the facts of life well before marriage was on the horizon.

But that was not the point.

“You see, despite all this, I have no desire to be in love,” the duke drawled, making her jump. “I require a marriage of convenience, and I require a woman who thinks the same as I do on this subject. I require a woman who can belogical. Which is why I did not marry your most esteemed sister. While I’m sure she is a delight, perhapslogicis not her strongest suit.”

That was a fair point—Daphne never looked before she leaped, as it were—but Emily bristled anyway.

“Don’t speak of my sister in that way. You’d have been lucky to marry her!”

Only because I was too cowardly to stop her from taking my place.

He bowed apologetically. “Do forgive me. However, my point stands, Miss Belmont. I thought a great deal about what you said to me before—that we are not rivals. Well, of course, we aren’t. We are on the same side. If you were to marry me, you’d have the freedom that you seek. I will receive my inheritance if all goes to plan, and once an heir has been duly produced, Anon may step out of the shadows.”

She said nothing, nibbling on her lower lip. The duke slunk a little closer until she could smell his cologne—that sharp, alluring scent that she’d noticed before.

“You are a clever woman, Miss Belmont,” he murmured. “You know that I am right.”

She still didn’t reply.

Perhaps he is right. If I don’t marry him, what are my prospects? Daphne and Anna are married and safe. I am… I am forgotten. I’m not beautiful like Anna, and I’m not forthright and brave like Daphne. I’m not rich, I’m not charming, I… I’m Anon. Who would want to marry me?

She glanced up at him, slowly, and found his gaze resting steadily on her. Waiting for her reply. He tilted his head to the side, waiting.

“You make a good argument,” she relented slowly. “I understand your urgency. However, after our last disastrous attempt at marriage, you can’t blame me for taking my time to think it over. You’ll have to wait for my answer, or else find another woman to marry.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I can be a patient man, but not indefinitely so. How long do you need to think it over?”

She thought quickly. He certainly did not have a great deal of time before his thirtieth birthday, not if a child had to be produced before then.

“Two weeks,” she said.

He barked out a laugh. “Twoweeks? My dear Miss Belmont, surely not. You may have one day.”

She recoiled. “A day isn’t enough to think anything over.”

“Miss Belmont, do you thinkparticularlyslowly?”

She bristled again. “Do you think I do?”

They both took a step towards each other, almost involuntarily. Emily was faintly aware that they were standing too close for propriety, but it was as if she were trapped in a magnetic pull. Heat pulsed through her chest, dropping low into her gut. She did not particularly want to investigate the sensation, and she hoped that it would go away.

“Ten days, then,” she suggested.

“Two days,” he countered.

“That’s not enough time! Seven.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Done.” He extended a hand.