Font Size
Line Height

Page 19 of Tantalizing the Duke

“I’m a more practical woman than most,” she replied with a playful shrug. “And if we are to proceed, why not do so without delay?”

She hesitated, then let her excitement shine through, her expression both resolved and radiant. “We must elope, you know. The sooner, the better.”

“Elope?” Parham echoed, as if the suggestion was both delightful and shocking. “I certainly didn’t dare hope you’d be in such haste.”

“We are in agreement, then? Would next week be too soon?” Her smile was a mixture of hope and certainty.

“Next week,” he repeated, the words filled with a newfound excitement. “You never fail to surprise me, Miss Nichols.”

She leaned back, a playful gleam in her eyes. “Good. I hope to keep it that way.”

“Then it’s settled,” he said, shaking his head again with a grin that betrayed his utter delight. “Though I must confess, you’ve quite outpaced me in planning.”

“You shall learn, my lord, that I often get what I want.”

They sat in the small room, the sounds from outside increasing as the world began its day. Their plans unfolded with a wildness that suited them both, leaving the future full of promise and uncertainty—a daring venture into a shared life that, for all its scandal, felt perfectly and deliciously right.

CHAPTER TEN

A pounding on her door seemed to rattle even the windowpanes as it invaded Milly’s sleep and sent the tail end of an unremembered dream flying like startled pigeons. She blinked, momentarily puzzled by the tendrils of hair that clung to her cheek, until another rapid thudding called her from beneath the bedclothes.

“Milly!” her father roared from outside, with all the grace of a bull battering a gate. “Open this door!”

She stumbled toward the sound as she tightened her wrapper around her, a sliver of unease threading through her drowsiness. Opening the door, she found the Earl of Kingsland standing there, red-faced and breathing hard, the morning paper clenched like a weapon in one hand.

The words “Parham and Miss M. N.” loomed in scandalous boldness above the fold, the letters nearly vibrating with the old man’s ire. He barged past her into the room, the scent of expensive wool mixing with his perspiration. “What is this nonsense? You are engaged to Crampmoore! I told you to stay home and keep your scandals to a minimum.”

She clutched her dressing gown closed, taking stock of his fury. Though the words were meant to alarm, it was the crumpled state of his usually immaculate coat that convinced her of his true distress. She closed the door with a quiet click and turned to face the whirlwind that was her father.

“There will be legal repercussions, Milly!” The earl’s voice pitched high, almost comical against the gravity of his claim. “Crampmoore could sue us for breach of promise.”

“You mustn’t fret so,” she said gently, though her heart wasn’t entirely settled. “It is only an announcement. Besides, marrying Parham is the perfect solution. I’ll be a countess rather than a baroness, and your grandson will be an earl someday.”

She hadn’t realized Parham would announce the wedding before the fact. She should have discussed their scheme more fully.

The earl waved her reasoning aside with a dramatic flourish, as if her words were no more substantial than a morning mist. “That is not the point, girl! You are still promised to Crampmoore.”

His vehemence stunned her, though she knew it shouldn’t have. Even in his disheveled state, the earl was the picture of insistence, pacing her sitting room like a general plotting war.

“Perhaps the baron will feel relieved at his narrow escape,” she countered, keeping her voice steady.

Kingsland’s expression darkened as he stalked to the window. The morning light caught the silver threads in his hair, making him appear almost regal in his exasperation. “And have you forgotten the scandal you created? All of London remembers it.”

“You arranged for me to marry a murderer. It seems only fair that I take matters into my own hands.” She kept her voice calm, but laced with defiance.

Her father took a deep breath, his face flushed with anger. For a moment, she thought he might relent, might see the reason in her decision. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel, marching to the door with a sense of purpose. “I will call on Crampmoore in person,” he declared, the paper crackling in his fist. “I must make amends before he decides to act.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving Milly in a state of disheveled calm. Her hair spilled over her shoulders, a wild contrast to the refined order of her thoughts. She sighed, allowing herself a moment of indulgent relief before summoning the resolve that had carried her through countless storms.

In an odd way, her father’s reaction had emboldened her. Going to her bedchamber, she slipped out of her nightclothes, the fabric whispering across her skin as she dressed for the day. The earl’s last words still echoed, but their power diminished as she tied a ribbon about her waist.

By the time she smoothed the folds of her skirt and regarded her reflection in the looking glass, the confidence had returned to her eyes. She would marry Parham, on her own terms, and find a happiness that neither scandal nor stubborn fathers could diminish. Milly raised her chin, a subtle yet unmistakable declaration, and moved to the dressing table to fix her hair.

Her hair had taken on a will of its own while she slept, flying this way and that beneath her impatient fingers. She wrestled it into submission, weaving pins through curls with all the tenacity of a warrior rearming after battle. The earl’s morning intrusion had left her shaken, though she would have died before admitting it. To her surprise, she found the very admission brought an unlooked-for sense of relief, a lightening of the spirit. She’d just fixed the last pin in place when a soft knock and the maid’s hesitant voice startled her anew. “A visitor, miss. The Duke of Dainsfield.”

Milly’s hands stilled, her heart racing anew with the unexpected news. She caught her reflection in the small looking glass, watching the emotions chase themselves across her features: surprise, anxiety, then a determined calm. Dainsfield, of all people. What could he possibly want? “Very well. Please tell the duke I shall be with him shortly.”

She moved to the sitting room as if in a dream, each step weighed by anticipation. She took a breath, her hands clasping together in a bid to quell their trembling.

Ad If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.