Page 23 of Tantalizing the Duke
But perhaps such drastic measures were unnecessary. The thought of making changes at the club flitted through his mind. Perhaps a more amiable figure could be the public face of the establishment, leaving Dainsfield to focus his attentions elsewhere.
Yet as the practical solution took shape, his urgency centered back on Milly, on the imminent proposal that seemed to swell like a tide within him. He couldn’t afford the luxury of careful planning or drawn-out courtship. The urgency was palpable. Every tick of the clock carried her closer to Parham. There would be no time for elaborate elopements, nor would conventional announcements serve his needs. A special license—that would suffice, so long as he had her consent.
The need to act quickly drove him, narrowing his focus, sharpening his resolve. A proposal—a genuine declaration, devoid of society’s constraining formalities—must come first. Without it, everything else was meaningless. His footsteps quickened as his plan solidified, leaving the shadowy concerns of business and partnerships behind.
Milly’s apartment was clear in his mind, a beacon in the grey expanse of London’s streets. His thoughts of her were an intoxicating blend of fear and hope. Could he convince her to choose him over a more socially acceptable match? Did she feel even a fraction of what he did? His heart leaped at the thought, urging his feet faster, until his breath became a cadence with the rhythm of his racing mind.
The doubt and hesitation that once filled him gave way to a fiercer determination. With his mind set, he could picture her so clearly. Her sparkling eyes, the warmth of her smile, the way she had looked at him with an openness he had never encountered in any other. The mere memory spurred him onward, driving him with an intensity that outpaced any earlier ambition.
This was not the time for a duke’s careful planning. It was a suitor’s impassioned pursuit. She had to know how he felt, even if it meant risking everything else. The streets blurred past him, a chaos of clattering hooves and shouted vendors. He moved through it all with singular purpose, knowing only that he must reach her, that his next breath might hinge on hearing her answer.
His strides lengthened, direction changing, each movement imbued with a resolve that lit his eyes and transformed his expression from brooding uncertainty to something resolute, something almost hopeful. The decision filled him with an energy he hadn’t expected. The words formed in his mind. He had to ask her, had to know. Could she ever want him? He didn’t know, but he did know he couldn’t face another day without finding out.
By the time Dainsfield reached Milly’s residence, he was disheveled and breathless, his normally impeccable appearance ravaged by a determined pace and London’s grime. The maid blinked at him, clearly uncertain whether such an imposing figure belonged in the hallway.
Milly’s entrance was as sudden as his arrival, her presence filling the room with a warmth that startled him. The loose pinning of her hair suggested an unexpected intimacy, as if she hadn’t thought to receive visitors.
“Milly,” he began, the word a breathless exclamation, barely waiting for her to reach the drawing room.
Her wide-eyed look took in his disarray, her lips parting in a question that never fully formed. “Dainsfield, what?—”
“I had to see you.” His words cut through the air with an urgency that matched his untidy appearance.
The maid hovered awkwardly at the door, and Milly gave a nod, dismissing her with an unspoken command that left them alone. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, smoothing her simple day dress with a gesture that only enhanced her charm. Even so casually attired, she seemed more alluring than he could bear.
She seemed about to continue when he interrupted, his pacing halting, only to resume again.
And again, he stopped, facing her directly. His composure crumbled under the weight of emotions too long restrained. “I don’t want you to marry Parham. I don’t want you to marry anyone. Except me.”
Her shock was palpable, her sparkling eyes searching his face for some sign of jest. Finding none, they grew wide with the hope she scarcely dared to acknowledge. “Do you mean it?” she breathed, each word a fragile question.
His chest rose and fell, not from exertion, but from the raw feeling that swelled within him. “Milly, I cannot think, I cannot breathe, I cannot do anything but wish to be near you. If I don’t have you as my wife, I will…” He hesitated, uncharacteristically struggling for words.
The room felt poised on a precipice, his declaration lingering like the sweet ache of music not quite finished. “I would ruin your name,” she whispered, the doubt finally spilling from her in a tumble of fear and insecurity.
“You cannot ruin what has already been trampled by my own hand. I’m a duke who owns a scandalous gaming hell known for lascivious activities in its private rooms. There is nothing about you that would worsen my reputation.”
Her cheeks flushed a lovely hue, a blend of embarrassment and tentative relief. “I thought—I thought you wanted?—”
“I want you,” he interjected, each word fervent and insistent. “Milly, will you be my duchess?”
For a heartbeat, the room was as silent as the moment before a storm breaks. Her face was a portrait of warring emotions, disbelief slowly melting into unrestrained joy. “Oh, Dainsfield!” she exclaimed, his name escaping her lips as she rushed toward him.
He pulled her into an embrace that banished any lingering doubts, the two of them wrapped in a tenderness that seemed to defy the world outside.
“Yes,” she murmured, the word as soft as the tears that glistened in her eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.”
His hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing a tear that dared escape. “You love me, then?” he asked, still astonished at his own audacity, and more so at her reply.
“I always have,” she admitted.
The moments that followed were a symphony of shared laughter and whispered promises. Her disbelief faded entirely, replaced by a newfound confidence that their love would endure. Dainsfield’s hand lingered in her hair, savoring the intimacy of the loose strands. He marveled at how their friendship had transformed into something so much deeper and more profound.
As they drew apart, just enough to meet each other’s eyes, there was no doubt left between them. The proposal was a mere formality now, the special license just a piece of paper. What mattered was the truth they’d found in one another, the promise of a future neither had dared to dream of.
His heart felt as if it might soar from his chest, filled with an elation he’d never thought possible.
Milly looked at him, her own happiness mirrored in his gaze. “You can’t change your mind now.”