Page 9 of Tantalizing the Duke (Wayward Dukes Alliance #22)

CHAPTER NINE

M illy 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.

“You’d be allowed to have a lover, of course,” Parham added, his tone nearly casual. “Though again, discretion would be essential.”

Milly laughed, a bright sound in the somber implications of the proposal. Her thoughts whirled, her heart thudding with the wildness of the notion. Yet, beneath the shock, she found herself surprisingly thoughtful. “I must confess, you’ve given me much to consider.”

Parham’s eyes lit with renewed hope, and he smiled with the charm of a man unburdened by deception. “I dared to think it might appeal to you.”

She regarded him, still processing the enormity and peculiarity of his offer. It was outrageous, scandalous, and yet… perhaps perfect.

“And what if,” she asked, her voice tinged with the thrill of contemplating the impossible, “I said yes?”

“Then I would count myself the luckiest man alive. Even if I must share you with another,” Parham replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Her laughter mingled with his, and for the first time, the proposal seemed not only possible but oddly fitting. As their mirth subsided, the room settled into a contemplative quiet, both of them lost in thoughts of an unconventional future.

Milly picked up her teacup, watching Lord Parham as if he were a puzzle she might yet solve.

He returned her gaze with an amused patience. “You’re everything I hoped you would be. I wish I could promise to love you as a husband should, but I can at least promise I’ll never set you aside for another woman.”

Milly laughed. Their eyes met in a shared moment of understanding, rich with the irony of his truthfulness.

“I can scarcely believe it. It’s all so… astonishing.” What appeared to be the perfect answer to her problem was something she’d never imagined as a possibility.

Parham leaned back, observing her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. “May I elaborate on a few more of the practical aspects, then? If I’ve managed not to scare you off entirely?”

She nodded, curiosity battling with caution. The prospect of an entirely unconventional life had seemed distant mere moments ago, yet now hovered within reach.

“You’ll be required to take part in marital relations with me as needed to produce an heir. You’ll be concerned about our children’s position in society, I expect. Your birth, as well as the rather scandalous notion of their parents’ living arrangements, might lead to some gossip.”

Milly arched an eyebrow, her skepticism well-masked by an expression of polite interest. “I consider that as guaranteed.”

“It wouldn’t be the ton if they didn’t talk,” Parham admitted, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that revealed both confidence and vulnerability. “But with time, if we present the right appearance, the talk will fade long before our children reach marriageable age.”

She studied him closely, weighing the conviction in his words against the risks she knew all too well. “You sound so certain.”

“Unusual, I know. I’ve had time to think it through. As you might have gathered, I’ve considered my situation for some time.”

The revelation caught her off guard, and she couldn’t quite hide the pleased surprise that flitted across her features. “I’m a bit surprised you trusted me with your scheme.”

Parham’s expression softened, his sincerity evident. “I see a strength in you, in the way you live your life, despite how society treats you. Most ladies would faint at the mere suggestion of marrying a man such as myself.”

“Most ladies haven’t survived the kind of talk I’ve had to endure,” Milly replied, her tone light but edged with the strength of truth.

He nodded. “Precisely. Your fortitude is as essential as your discretion.”

She took a moment to absorb this, considering the unorthodox life he was offering and the particular freedoms it might grant her. It was a gamble, certainly, but one that promised a rare sort of independence. “Your candor is something of a marvel.”

“I had a sense it would appeal,” Parham replied, joining in her laughter with a sound as genuine as it was rare. The levity of the moment broke over them, smoothing the complexities of their conversation into something simple and almost joyful.

Her gaze turned suddenly keen, and she leaned forward, her eyes glinting with mischief and resolve. “And would dear Peter be understanding of a swift marriage?”

Parham nearly spilled his tea, surprised by the sudden shift. “I did not expect that you would consider it so soon.”

“It seems to me, Lord Parham, that we both have reasons for wanting it settled quickly.”

“You are remarkable,” he said, an admiring gleam in his eye. “I hoped, of course, that you would accept, but I thought you might take longer to consider.”

“My situation requires some alacrity. And I have already given the matter quite a lot of thought, my lord.”

Parham shook his head in wonder, charmed by her unexpected enthusiasm. “And here I believed you would need more persuading.”

“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.