Page 86 of Never Besmirch a Wallflower: Dukes and Wallflowers

“Why?” Darkness clouded his face as he rose. “Are you already married?”

“No, Your Grace,” she said, recoiling from the anger rolling toward her. “Nor am I with child if that was your concern.”

“It wasn’t,” he bit off.

His comment threw her.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Forgetting her fear, she strode across the foyer, closing the distance between them. “Do you think me incapable of seducing a man?”

“I think you quite capable,” he rumbled, his disarming scent wafting over her. “However, my time with you last evening proved it’s the experience you lack, not the ability.”

He reached out and took her hand, squeezing her palm between his fingers. “Tell me why I can’t marry you.”

Because when Miss Drummond learns of the engagement, four hundred pounds won’t be enough to satisfy her hunger for revenge. Because I stole from you and your friends to keep my secrets hidden. Because I love you…

She licked her lips, her eyes flicking to the staircase. “I need to give you something first. Then, if you are still interested in my hand, propose again.”

“Dear Lord, what do you intend to offer me?” He glanced around as though ensuring they were alone.

“Would you remain here for a few moments?” she asked, pointing at the foyer floor.

She didn’t wait for his reply. Instead, she turned and hastened toward the staircase. Her hand hovering over the banister, she rushed up the stairs, heading toward her chamber and the Duke of Lennox’s ruby ring.

He wouldn’t stay, not after she returned his father’s ring. He’d think her no more deserving of his attention than a common thief, and truly, her actions warranted the title.

Opening her bedchamber door, Helena hurried across the floor to the vase of holly branches. She maneuvered her fingers around the spiky leaves but couldn’t push her hand deep enough into the vase to retrieve the ring.

She muttered a soft curse and angled the vase toward her, scratching her fingernails along the inside of the porcelain. The tips of her fingers brushed over the ring’s cold metal. Wincing as a branch skewered the back of her hand, Helena stretched her bones, willing them to reach the ring.

“What are you doing?”

Screaming, Helena spun around and released the vase, which fell from her hands and shattered the moment it struck the floor. A large chunk slid across the floor, crashing into the Duke of Lennox’s boot. Her eyes dropped to the floor, sorting through the porcelain shards.

Where had the ring gone?

“I…” Her gaze scanned the room again. “I can’t find the item I wished to give you.”

“I don’t need a favor,” he replied, gesturing to the room as though asking permission to enter.

When she nodded, he stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“What I need,” he said, keeping a large space between them, “is for the woman I’ve fallen in love with to admit she feels the same and agree to marry me.”

“Even with the rumors in the newspaper?” she asked, crouching and picking up a broken vase piece.

The corner of his mouth pulled. “This morning’s article brushed against the truth.”

“There may be more stories printed about me,” Helena said, stacking pieces into a little pile.

“Concern for my reputation?” He chuckled, knelt beside her, and grabbed a large chunk. “How can I convince you there’s nothing I could learn that would sway my affection for you?”

“Murder?”

“Are you confiding to it or considering committing it?” he asked, tossing the piece onto her pile.

Helena burst out laughing. “The latter one.”

“Depending on your target, I might offer my assistance.” He wiggled his eyebrows.