Page 51

“Miranda,” he called out, not caring if he made a scene for her neighbors to overhear.

Let them. Likely all London knew by now that she had been sharing his bed for the last five weeks. The damage had already been done.

The door jerked open suddenly, and there she stood, heartachingly beautiful but pale, her cheeks tearstained, her green eyes rendered even more vibrant by her bloodshot eyes. He hated the evidence of her sadness. Hated knowing he was likely the cause of it.

“Miranda,” he breathed, reaching for her. “You’ve been weeping.”

“Rhys.” She frowned, taking a step in retreat. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m hoping I might explain inside rather than out in the street,” he said wryly, his gaze devouring her.

How had it only been a day since he had seen her last? It felt more like a year.

Her frown deepened. “I cannot think it wise. I’ve already told you, our arrangement is over.”

“I would like a new arrangement with you,” he told her.

She shook her head. “I do not dare after all the damage that has been done to my reputation. Have you not heard about the gossip rag?”

“I have.” He ground his jaw against a rush of righteous anger. “And I’m sorry for it. I promise you that I’ll find whoever was responsible and make the bastard pay.”

“You should go.” She began to close the door on him.

He wedged his booted foot solidly in the jamb. “Not until you let me in.”

“Rhys,” she hissed, her nostrils flaring. “You are causing a scene.”

He held her gaze, determined. “Only think of the scene I’ll cause when I’m forced to climb your house and break in to one of your windows.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

He raised a brow, unflinching. “Oh, but I would, darling.”

He would do anything he had to do. Anything to rectify the wrong he had done, the damage he had caused her reputation. Anything to make amends for his colossal stupidity.

At last, and with a huffed sigh of irritation, she pulled the door back open and moved to allow him entrée. “Very well. If you insist.”

“I do.” He strode over the threshold and kicked the door shut, all the courtly charm completely gone from him now. He was nothing but raw, burning emotion as he took her cool hands in his. “The new arrangement I want with you is marriage.”

Her lips parted. “What?”

“I want to marry you, Miranda. I want to be your husband, and I want you as my wife.”

The words felt so thoroughly right as they left him.

“You’re only saying this because of that dreadful article and the scandal,” she said, tearing her hands from his and moving away. “I’ll not have your pity, Rhys. It is worse than your disdain.”

How wrong she was. He would show her. Prove it to her.

Rhys followed, reaching for her again, this time taking her waist in his hands and pulling her against him.

“I’m not saying it because I pity you or because of that bloody gossip rag.

I’m saying it because I love you, Miranda Lenox.

I love your stubborn determination to succeed, your dauntless fearlessness, your passion, and your talent.

I love your courage and your compassion, your laughter and your smile.

I love your hair and your nose and your emerald eyes, and I love your sinful mouth and your delicious breasts and your perfectly formed bottom and your?—”

“Madam?”

The shrill voice of Miranda’s maid of all work intruded quite rudely on Rhys’s declaration. He turned to the unsmiling woman with a frown of his own.

“That will be all,” he said with a grin. “If your mistress needs you, she will ring the bellpull.”

Miranda nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Yes, White. Please do go. All is well.”

The older woman bobbed in a curtsy, her expression made of stone, and fled in a flap of dun skirts.

“Do you mean it?” Miranda asked when the servant had once more disappeared.

He cupped her cheek. “Well, I wasn’t nearly finished when I was interrupted. There was more.”

“There was?”

“Yes, but I’ve forgotten it,” he admitted. “I feel reasonably certain it had something to do with your responsive nipples.”

“Rhys,” she scolded, smiling through the chastisement. “You are positively scandalous.”

“And so are you. We are well matched, you and I. So you see, that is why we should wed.” He caressed the elegant sweep of her cheekbone with his thumb. “That and the fact that I love you. Have I mentioned it?”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “You love me? How? Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. I’m sorry I was too bloody stupid to realize it until it was too late and I caused you to be the subject of gossip yet again.” Guilt lodged in his throat, making his voice go thick. “I would do anything to undo the damage I’ve caused.”

She shook her head. “The damage is every bit as much my fault as yours. I knew the risks and decided the reward was worth it.”

“Why?” he asked softly, needing to know.

Needing to hear her say the words. Praying he wasn’t wrong and that she loved him, not anyone else.

“Because I love you,” she said.

“Not Warting?” he asked.

“Rhys, you know that isn’t his name.”

“Yes,” he countered determinedly. “It is and forever shall be. I don’t like him.”

“He has been a good friend to me, helping me to obtain the divorce from Ammondale through great harm to his own reputation. All the world believes him an adulterer when he’s not. The two of us were never lovers.”

“And so he can continue to be a good friend,” he growled. “From another bloody continent. Now, say it again, if you please.”

She smiled. “I love you.”

“And?”

“And I’ll marry you.”

“Thank God.” He kissed her then, tasting the salt of her tears and the sweetness that was simply Miranda before breaking away again to gaze down at her. “I am going to make this right, my love. I swear it to you.”

“We will be together,” she said softly. “Nothing else matters.”

“But your school. I know how important it is to you, how hard you’ve worked to grow it.”

Her smile turned a bit wistful. “Perhaps I can rebuild it one day. Perhaps not.”

“But you’ve been crying over it.”

“Silly.” She sniffed. “It was you I was crying about. Throwing you over was the most difficult decision I’ve ever made.”

He thought of the hated letter he had abandoned in his study and how he would enjoy finally pitching it into the flames later.

“Why did you?” Rhys asked.

“Because you said you never wanted to marry. I thought there was no hope of a future for the two of us.”

To think how close he had come to almost losing her. Never again , he vowed.

“I’m an arse,” he said. “Do you forgive me?”

“Only if you forgive me.”

“Done.” He kissed her swiftly before withdrawing and taking her hand in his. “Now, come with me, if you please.”

“Where are we going?” she asked as he led her to the stairs.

Rhys grinned at her. “To your bedroom. Since we’ve already scandalized all of London, we may as well do what we wish, and right now, there isn’t a thing in the world that this wicked duke would like to do more than ravish his wicked duchess-to-be.”

Hand in hand, they ascended the narrow staircase to her waiting bedroom.

And some time shortly thereafter, the ravishing commenced.