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“I do,” the Viscount answered. “Would you like to discuss the terms over drinks?”

“No. This will be a short visit.”

“Alright.” The Viscount moved to his seat.

William was happy to see the man feign some pride even though he could sense the nervousness oozing from him. It was expected. After all, the man was far outranked.

“I am glad to see that my daughter’s future husband is not given to drink,” the Viscount added.

“In as much as I am here to propose marriage, Lord Notley, it is not you who I expect an answer from. It is from your daughter,” William explained.

“And why is that? I am her father, and I should have a say,” the Viscount spluttered.

“You do, and you have shown me you will approve of the match,” William told him with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. “But I will only marry the lady if she agrees.”

“This is not how things are done, Your Grace.”

“But it is how I want it to be,” William stated. “The marriage is between your daughter and I. As such, we will be the ones to decide if we shall proceed.”

“Of course, she will agree,” the Viscount scoffed. “She has common sense.”

If William were any other man, he would rely on her common sense, but Miss Eveline had never seen him without the mask, and she would need to decide if his face was one she would not mind seeing for the rest of her life. He did not mention this to her father, who would not care if he was maimed as long as his daughter was wed.

“Call her in, then.”

The Viscount was quick to summon a footman and instructed him to send Miss Eveline in.

William did not like the way his heart raced in anticipation of her arrival. It was one thing to see him under the cover of darkness. If she were to see him in the full light of day, with his scars on full display, would she still ask him to kiss her as she had? Even he sometimes had difficulty looking at his face in the mirror.

If she grimaced or fainted at the sight of him, it would hurt his self-esteem even more than his flawed visage had.

A knock sounded at the door, and she came in, looking even lovelier than she had the night before, in a lovely gown of pale blue silk. Although the cut was modest, it still failed to hide her smooth curves.

William hated the way his eyes followed the shape of her legs as they moved beneath the light fabric and how he found her lips so tempting even though they were in polite company.

“Eveline, may I present the Duke of Mayfield,” the Viscount spoke up. “Your Grace, this is my second daughter, Eveline. I believe you two are already acquainted.”

William rose from his seat, ignoring her father’s attempt at a quip, and stepped up to her.

“It is my pleasure to finally meet you, Miss Eveline,” he said, looking down at her.

“Likewise, Your Grace,” she replied with a curtsy, still not looking at him.

“I have come to propose marriage, but only if you are willing to accept,” he stated, wanting her to understand that she had control over the outcome of the situation.

Her eyes shot up to his, then widened as she took him in. It was only through sheer will that he did not turn away, instead allowing himself to watch the expressions on her face shift from shock to intrigue and then to bashfulness, a hot blush covering her face.

Where was the fear?

His reaction left him doubting himself, as he had not thought a woman would blush because of him. He found himself feeling somewhat relieved that she had not swooned at the sight of his face.

“Will you marry me, Miss Eveline?” he asked, not wanting to prolong his visit.

She worried her lip between her teeth, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

“I cannot, Your Grace,” she replied, surprising him and her father.

“You stupid girl!” the Viscount bellowed. “What do you mean, you will not marry the Duke? This is the best match you could ever hope to?—”