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Page 17 of Tantalizing the Duke

CHAPTER NINE

Milly was reading a favorite novel when her maid announced the arrival of a visitor one morning a few days later. Lord Parham entered the sitting room, dressed in a striking blue coat that perfectly highlighted his handsome features. She motioned him toward the worn velvet chair across from her own, studying his expression as he took a seat.

“May I offer you some tea, Lord Parham?” She gave the maid instructions for tea without waiting for his response, more than a little intrigued about what could bring a nobleman to her apartment so early in the day.

The earl sat with a natural ease, his thick brown hair falling boyishly across his brow. “I must beg your pardon, Miss Nichols. I hope my unannounced visit is not entirely inconvenient,” he said, a warm smile spreading across lips that Milly could not help but notice were remarkably full.

“Not at all.” She shifted in her seat, smoothing her skirt with careful fingers.

“Consider it a token of my enthusiasm,” he added, his eyes twinkling. “It seems I’m rather eager to speak with you.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his admission. “And what urgent matter could possibly bring a gentleman here?” Her question was laced with playful innocence, a delicate probe into the nature of his visit.

“I’d be lying if I said it was merely a passing fancy,” Parham replied, glancing around the room with keen interest. “What a charming apartment you have. Cozy, with such exquisite taste.”

Milly followed his gaze, noting the simple elegance of her surroundings—the slightly worn furnishings, the carefully chosen decor that she hoped lent an air of refinement even here on the edges of society. “Thank you, my lord. It is not the grandeur you’re accustomed to, I’m sure.”

“Ah, but that’s precisely what I like about it. Not everything in my life must be gilded to be pleasing. Sometimes, a bit of character and comfort is far more appealing.”

“You mean the endless balls and dinners aren’t always diverting?” she asked with a smile, amused by the ease with which he dismissed the trappings of the ton.

Her maid entered with a tray, and Milly poured the tea herself, savoring the simple act of hospitality. “How do you take it? Sugar, milk?”

Parham leaned forward, accepting the cup with a gallant nod. “Neither, thank you. I prefer things unfussy. A gentleman’s pleasures are often simpler than society would assume.”

She paused, her interest piqued by his words. “Pleasures, you say? I imagine you’re not speaking of card games or port.”

He regarded her carefully, as if weighing how far to extend the conversation. “You know of Sutcliffe’s, then?”

“I may have heard whispers. Rumors about the… activities gentlemen engage in there.” Apparently, he wasn’t aware she’d seen him there.

Parham chuckled, visibly relaxing as if a weight had been lifted. “Then you will understand why it is a rare delight to find someone in my circles who doesn’t take offense to such proclivities. Which brings me to the true purpose of my visit.”

Milly’s heart quickened at the shift in his tone, and she set down her own teacup with careful deliberation. “You’ve sparked my curiosity, Lord Parham.”

His expression grew earnest, and he leaned forward with an intent that was almost startling in its sincerity. “Miss Nichols, I come to offer you a proposal.”

The room seemed to still as his words hung between them. Milly blinked, certain she must have misheard. “A proposal?”

“Of marriage,” Parham added quickly, clearly perceiving her astonishment. He adjusted his coat, a faint hint of nerves apparent. “I hope the bluntness of my offer doesn’t shock you. I’m not a poet or artist who can paint a pretty proposal with my words.”

Her laughter was genuine, though laced with disbelief.

He shifted in his seat as though it was uncomfortable. “I’m not as I seem, you see. And as you can imagine, my situation requires a particular sort of arrangement.”

Milly leaned back, the surprise of the proposal shifting into something else as she listened. “I confess I am intrigued. Please, go on.”

“Quite simply, I am… fond of a man called Peter. We live together at the country estate and separately in London. It’s a perfectly respectable facade,” Parham explained, his earnestness unwavering. “The one thing we cannot manage is an heir.”

His candor was disarming, and Milly found herself searching his face for signs of jest. She found none. “You are nothing if not honest. I confess… I saw you with a woman on the upper floor at Sutcliffe’s.”

“And now you see me proposing to one.” He met her eyes with a forthright gaze. “A conventional marriage would be impossible. But you, Miss Nichols, you would understand the delicate balance required.”

“And why would you choose me for such a delicate balance?” Her question was genuine, an inquiry into his reasoning.

Parham reached across the small table, taking her hand in his. His touch was gentle, almost pleading. “Your situation. You stand apart from the ton in the same way I do. I’m told you enjoy gatherings some might call risqué. I’m open minded to allowing you to continue, with some discretion, of course.”

She considered his words, the implications slowly unfolding in her mind. He released her hand, watching her with an expression that was almost hopeful.

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