Page 35 of Forever Her Bachelor

Sometimes she still dreamed of that day. Red hair and crisp blue watery eyes would plague her memory for days after she heard the words that shattered her hopes and dreams.

“The Marquess of Lennox.”

The mellifluous voice had whispered Chauncey’s then title, leaving Pippa devastated. The old duke had practically shakenwith joy as tears sprang to Pippa’s eyes, ruining any semblance of a future.

Closing her eyes, Pippa willed the dreadful memory away, not wanting to be assaulted with the details of the past. She was not the same girl anymore but a capable woman who would not cower in front of a picture of a dead man.

When she opened them again, the memories of the past had faded, and she no longer felt the eyes of a dead man on her. Deciding that she no longer would allow the former duke to have power over her, Pippa let her gaze drift over to the boy beside him.

Chauncey.

The boy who had stolen her heart stood beside his ominous father, a teasing smirk on his face. That was her Chauncey, her friend, her heart, the beating pulse of her very soul, but he was gone, forever altered by society and his father.

Pippa turned away from the portrait of her childhood friend, locking eyes with the man he had become. His intense gaze was overwhelmingly penetrating, those deep-chocolate eyes so powerfully frantic that it nearly moved the last boulders away from her heart.

Her decision to marry him had been slowly solidifying since their kiss in Heartford’s study. Pippa could not deny that they still had a connection; however, this was more than the childhood camaraderie they had shared as children. The altercation with Summerset had made her decision for her. There was only one safe alternative, and that was to trust the Duke of St. Clara.

Pippa could trust her former friend with many things. She could trust St. Clara to provide for her, to protect her, but she could never trust him with her heart.

As she held his gaze, her insides trembled as St. Clara processed her words. His handsome face took on a series of emotions, and for a moment, she believed he really cared for her.

However, she knew the truth.

He paced back and forth as she gave him a moment to accept her proposal. It wasn’t unheard of for a husband and a wife to live separately, especially amongst theton. His own parents had lived apart the entire time they were friends. She had met both his mother and sister after their engagement had ended. Pippa and his sister, Amelia, were outcasts in society together and became acquaintances.

She had envied both women for their strength and courage. The rumors circulating any room they entered never affected them, or if they had, they never showed it. Pippa had felt compassion for mother and daughter; they were nothing like the stories St. Clara had told her. They never once showed that their station in society affected them. The duchess always carried herself with grace and class, smiling through the whispers.

Picking up Newt, who had stayed by her side, she waited patiently as St. Clara frantically ran his hands through his hair. She would not rush him, but Pippa could not waver on the matter. The cat purred contently, also following the pacing duke in front of him.

Suddenly St. Clara stopped and looked at Pippa. His eyes were wide, face pale. His shoulders sagged as he nodded his agreement. “Very well.” Taking his seat again, he relaxed, unnerving her with a delectable smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. “I will grant your request if you meet my own requirements.”

His requirements? What could he possibly require of her?

“I don’t believe I have anything to offer.” She leveled him with a smile before sitting back on the sofa.

As she waited with anticipation, a swarm of butterflies flew in her lower abdomen.

“I will grant your request. My condition is that we are husband and wife in every aspect …” He paused, that damnable smirk spreading into a full grin that surely melted the hearts and drawers of every lady in London. “… for one year?—”

“What?” Pippa stood, shocked at his words, a thrill of excitement sliding down her spine.

She wasn’t daft; in fact, Pippa considered herself a highly intelligent woman. She was aware that what had occurred in the Heartford’s study was irregular… and if she was being honest with herself, as one tries to do, it had been magnificent. She wouldn’t mind doing more exploring for strictly scientific purposes, of course.

There was a tiny part of her that very much wanted to feel him pressed against her again. Pippa could feel the heat as it slowly glided through her body, settling on her traitorous cheeks; she could only imagine were as red as a tomato.

“What if I’m to become with child in that year? You know I would never abandon him or her.”

He tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulder, looking like a boy again, happy and free. “I will take all necessary precautions.”

French letters.

Of course, he would own the scandalous contraptions. Besides being well read, Pippa had also overheard many things in the company of Jessie and Ini. Jessie Lewis took it upon herself to not only teach self-defense, but she also believed it her right to instill in Beatrice, and by default Pippa, all aspects of the opposite sex. In her short time in Jessie’s company, Pippa had learned the ancient art of withdrawing and the famous French letters.

She stroked Newton, trying to relieve the sweating of her palms; suddenly her clothing felt constricting. Her whispered answer readily left her lips without her permission. “Yes.”

She would be his wife for one year, and then she would be her own person.

As his duchess, she would be respected whether they lived together or not. The St. Clara dukedom would protect her and her growing business.