Page 52 of The Rogue’s Embrace

Hesitations?

Adalia blinked, her head snapping back. "Which are?"

His stare did not crack, only drew to a point, skewering her deeper. "The first time we spoke after your husband's funeral, Lady Pipworth, you called me a vulture."

Her hand flew to flatten on her chest. "No. I would never."

"You did—though not to my face—you waited until you had turned from me to chat with your friend."

His forefingers flipped upward together, tapping on his chin. "If I recall correctly, your words were that you did not expect a vulture to descend so quickly."

She bit her tongue, nodding. She remembered quite clearly she had said the words to Violet and there was no excuse for them. "Can I plead that I was deep in grief at the time and could not hold my tongue?"

"Is it the truth?"

"No."

"Then do not plead it."

Her lips drew inward, stalling for a long second. "I do apologize for that. On hindsight, I understand you were attempting to hold to your vow to my brother. I do not truly imagine you are a vulture—or if you are, you have questionable choices in carcasses."

His left eyebrow quirked. He apparently did not understand her quip, or understood it quite well and did not find it humorous.

She stifled a sigh, beating down upon what she truly wanted to say. Contrite, apologetic—she would do whatever was needed of her to extract the promise from him to keep the twins safe.

He cleared his throat. "My other hesitations?—"

"I had hoped it would be just the one."

"It is plural."

This time the sigh escaped. Her earlier relief at the security of being in the duke's home was waning. This was not going nearly as well as she had hoped for—or planned upon. Especially when the duke was the only option available to her at the moment to keep the twins safe. "Please, pray tell."

"In our second meeting you called me a tyrannical, overbearing fiend. But that was only after you called me a supercilious, pious ogre."

A blush tinged her cheekbones, her mouth going dry.

Damn her brothers.

No fine young lady of the ton should have ever been exposed to as many creative barbs as she had in her youth. A contrite frown framed her words. "I did. You were attempting to remove me from the only source of income I have to keep the Alton estate solvent. I cannot apologize for defending my livelihood and for protecting the estate from ruin. Though I did not need to express myself so…enthusiastically."

His forefingers went back to tapping his chin. "Why is keeping the Alton estate solvent so important to you?"

"The girls. My loyalty to our family. I do not want my brothers' memories tarnished. They were so much more than numbers on a ledger. None of them could have predicted the mines were to fail."

"But your brothers are dead. What does it matter now?"

Her eyes blinked hard at his callousness. "What does it matter? They are my family. They are the girls' family—their father, their uncles. I will not see their memory ruined. Not if I have breath and the will to stop it."

The duke waved his hand, seemingly to dismiss all silly notions she had of loyalty and love with a swish of air. "All that said, Lady Pipworth, you have been very clear in your opinion of me, when all I wished to do is offer you assistance. So I must conclude I am not the one you need help from."

His hands dropped, folding across his waist. "I can arrange to have one of my carriages bring you and your nieces back to London, or to the Alton estate in Derbyshire, if you prefer."

Stunned, she stared at him, for how long, she wasn't sure.

Theo had said this was where she was supposed to come. So she came.

And for what?

To have her past rudeness thrown in her face? To believe she was safe and have it ripped away from her? To believe her nieces would be protected from a threat she could not identify, and then tossed out to unknown wolves?

No. She did not just stay awake for two nights and two days straight, to find out this blasted duke was not about to help her. To help her nieces.

Her voice went fatally calm. Maybe she had misheard him. "So you are thinking to not help me?"

"That is correct."

"Yet you gave a vow to my dead brother that you would do so."

Her words were even, challenge dripping from every syllable.

The words hung in the air, filling the cavernous space, echoing louder than any words ever had from the thousands of tomes along the walls.

Slowly, the duke leaned forward, his palms flattening on the desk, and he stood, glaring down at Adalia. Belying his blank face, his stare could have seared through a hundred warriors. "You are daring to call my honor into question?"

She looked up at him, knowing she had finally forced the man to show the smallest modicum of emotion. A small victory. "Yes."

"Do you think that wise?"

Voice crushingly brutal, he leaned forward even further, his fingers curling on the wood of the desk.

She swallowed a "no"

as her chin jutted out. "Yes. A vow is a vow, and I mean to hold you to your word."

Holding her breath, for an agonizingly long moment Adalia thought he was going to reach out and choke her. Or slam his fists onto the desk. Or lunge at her. Or pick her up and toss her out the front door—or a window.

But he did none of those things.

"You think to hold me to my vow?"

He said the words with eerie composure, his face settling back into blankness. So odd, it made her question her own demand. Made her question the wisdom of holding him to his vow.

She shook off the sudden worry. This was for the twins. If anything, what she just saw in this man was the undeniable ability—raging through him—to protect anything he held dear, such as his honor. And if she could get him to hold the twins dear, then they would be safe.

She met his brown eyes. "Yes. I am demanding it."

"Then I bow to your needs. I must adhere to my oath."

He nodded, pushing off of the desk as he sat on his chair, his stare never veering from her. "Earlier, Lady Pipworth, you pointed out my unnatural pause when I spoke of my vow to your brother."

"Yes?"

"You were right. I did pause—hedge. For offering you assistance was never truly my vow to him."

"You lied? What was your vow?"

He paused again. And this time it was obvious, long and drawn out to torture her. That, she could see.

Finally, he opened his mouth. "Your brother made me vow to marry you, should it become necessary."

Adalia sprung to her feet, her hands slapping onto the desk. "What?"

The duke nodded, the distinct tightness of his mouth making no secret of what he thought about the prospect.

She shoved off from the desk, backing away, her hands waving in front of her. "Well, no, your grace. No. That is not necessary. Not necessary at all. This instance has no cause for such extreme measures."

"I think your brother would disagree."

"No, your grace. No, I think he would quite agree with me on the matter."

Her head bobbed frantically up and down as she moved backward. "I think he understood that I already had one husband chosen for me by my eldest brother, and that was a failure on all measures. I do not need another husband chosen for me by another one of my brothers. They have proven to be inept at it. So no. Most certainly not. Theo must have been drunk as a wheelbarrow when he extracted that vow from you. It is inconceivable. Utterly ridiculous. It is not going to happen."

The duke sighed. "You are done?"

"Spectacularly foolish on all sane accounts."

Both of his eyebrows cocked in question.

Having backed herself halfway across the room, she stopped, nodding with a tight smile. "I am done—no—wait—yes—I am done."

His head tilted slightly to the side, waiting several seconds for her to blurt about again. She managed to keep her mouth clamped shut.

"I made a vow to Theodore, Lady Pipworth. And he has invoked that vow—from the grave, no less. So I do intend to keep it. It is what is needed in this situation. You are the one that demanded it of me."

"No. Not fair. What is needed? What is needed is for you to keep the twins safe. That is what is needed. I give you full authority to swap out the specific vow to marry me for a vow that you will keep the twins safe. That will do much better. I am sure Theo would approve—I know he would."

"Would he approve even more of me keeping all three of you safe?"

Her lips went tight, pursing into a bunched frown.

"Exactly. And the most logical way to do that is for me to marry you."

Adalia's mind scrambled, searching for any miniscule thread to attach argument to—anything to remove this mad thought from the man's head. "But you—this is not fair to you, your grace. You must have a slew of ladies that would gladly misplace an arrow into my back if they thought they could become your duchess."

"What would have you believing that, Lady Pipworth?"

His hand swung in small circle in front of him. "Do you see a line of ladies waiting outside my door? Do you imagine there are even any at all within twenty miles of my estate?"

"But surely in London?"

"I do not care for London, the season, and all the nonsense it entails. I am in London for parliament, only because it is necessary. And I attend only the functions that need my presence. Everything else in the city has no bearing on my needs."

"That is all you care about? What is needed?"

"Yes."

Her head slanted. He said the one word so adamantly, so perfunctorily, it was as though he had never once imagined anything past what was needed. Never let himself aspire to an actual want. Only needs.

His hands settled on the desk, his little finger methodically tapping the wood once again. "I do have the need of a wife. The need of an heir. And I do need to satisfy the vow I made to your brother."

He nodded, more to himself than to Adalia. "So a marriage between us fulfills three of my needs quite succinctly."

She watched him, slightly dumfounded at how cold the prospect sounded coming from his lips.

Her brothers truly were dismal at choosing men for her.

Her eyes drifted downward to the desk, settling on the tip of his now still little finger. At least Theo had one part right in the Duke of Dellon. She had planned to never marry again, but if she was forced to, she preferred a husband that was cold—and nothing more.

Cold—from beginning to end—she could handle.

Never anything more. Never wanting. Never longing.

Cold she could handle.

Her look lifted from the desk to meet his gaze.

His brown eyes watched her. No curiosity in them, no desire—nor was there any displeasure or antipathy. They were just…blank. A yes or a no from her, and she couldn't imagine it would matter one way or another to him.

Maybe she could manage this.

She needed to ensure safety for the twins, and if she had discerned anything of the Duke of Dellon in the past minutes, it was that he would be dependable. He would adhere to what was needed. He would regard the twins as family, and their protection would then become a need. And a need he would serve without fail.

"You would protect the twins?"

she asked.

"As they were my own."

She paused, taking a long moment, her tongue slipping out to moisten her lips. "Before I agree, you must know there is a chance I may be barren. I was married for eighteen months and there was not the tiniest hint of being with child."

He did not succumb to the slightest blink at her admission. "I am not fearful of the possibility. My title only demands that I make the effort. My concerns on the matter do not go further than that."

She exhaled the breath that had lodged in her chest. She had no more barriers, real or imagined, to erect. She gave one slow nod. "Then, yes—I agree to marry you, your grace."

Without reply, he stood, walking around the desk and past Adalia. It wasn't until he was across the room that he stopped and glanced back at her, surprised she was not following him. "Then I have much I need to attend to, Lady Pipworth, and you are no longer required. I will show you to your chambers."

He moved to the door.

Her hands curled against her skirts.

Why had she done it? She had three brothers. She knew better.

Never question a man's honor.

Especially honor that was attached to a fiendishly tyrannical, overbearing, supercilious ogre.