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‘I have said nothing to her, nor to her father, that would lead them to expect a declaration. I am not in any way committed.’ He smiled at her. ‘Cleo, it is you I love, not her.’
‘But I have so much to learn of society. I have no accomplishments, no experience.’
‘You have languages and strong nerves,’ Quin countered. ‘You are not disconcerted by strange places and you have excellent health. You learn fast. Cleo, my love, the worst that can happen is the end of my diplomatic career. If that happens, then I have an estate and investments to fall back on. We won’t starve, Cleo.’
‘That is not what I am worried about,’ she said vaguely. ‘I know more recipes for rice and scrawny chicken than you can imagine, I can keep house on a pittance.’ She realised what she was saying. ‘How can I risk being the death of the one thing you really want in life and ruining your opportunity to make the break from your father that is so important?’
‘I find those do not matter so desperately, not any more,’ he said. ‘I know who I am now, I know what I can achieve. I only need you to complete me.
‘I thought my honour defined me, that somehow I had to be a better man than my father believed me and a more honourable one than my true father had been. Now I know that all that matters is listening to my heart and my conscience. I love you, Cleo. Can you forgive me?’
It was true, Cleo knew it in her bones, her blood, her heart. He loved her and perhaps he had for a long time. He had wanted, always, to do the right thing and now he was hurting and she could not bear that.
‘How can I not?’ she asked him and opened her arms. ‘I love you and I have for so long, Quin.’
He walked into her embrace and closed his arms to hold her against his chest. ‘I had hoped, last night. I feared I was deluding myself. Will you marry me, Cleo?’
‘I will.’ It was a promise and a vow and there was nothing else to say as Quin’s kiss took her breath away.
* * *
‘Enough of this sentimental twaddle,’ the duke snapped half an hour later. ‘I’ll see you ruined, Deverall.’
‘No, you will not, not unless you wish to make life more difficult for your granddaughter.’ Quin dragged his gaze away from her face with an effort. ‘You can ruin my career, but we’ll not starve and society loves a romantic scandal—it is your dignity that will suffer if you try to hinder us.’
‘You—the mongrel in the Deverall kennel daring to aspire to the granddaughter of St Osyth? Pah.’ The duke flung himself down into his chair.
Quin smiled. ‘I am a perfectly acceptable match for the daughter of an eccentric baronet and a lady who eloped and was cast off by her family.’
‘Why, damn it?’ the duke demanded.
‘Because I love her,’ Quin said simply.
‘And I love him.’ Cleo’s fingers closed tight on his hand.
‘Stop it!’ St Osyth thundered. ‘I can’t bear it. The pair of you are a sentimental disgrace, like some drivelling pair of yokels. Cleo, you do not know about this man’s parentage.’
‘Yes, I do, he told me. Mine isn’t much to brag about either. Besides, I would rather marry a man whose worth depends on his own intelligence, hard work and honour than some crony of yours.’ She tucked her hand under Quin’s elbow.
There was a long, simmering silence before the duke reached for the bell pull. ‘I should send for my grooms and a horsewhip,’ he said.
Quin made himself relax his fists. ‘You are welcome to try, although I dislike the idea of hurting men who are only obeying orders.’
‘Hah!’
Cranton entered. ‘Your Grace?’
‘A bottle of champagne. The best. And three glasses.’ He waited until the door had closed behind the butler. ‘I hope I know when to stop fighting for a lost cause. I wish you well of my granddaughter, Deverall. She’ll lead you a merry dance.’
‘You will not influence the Foreign Ministry against Quin?’ Cleo asked.
‘Stop it, Cleo,’ Quin said. ‘I will not beg for your grandfather’s forbearance. I do not want his help.’
‘Well, I want my money,’ Cleo countered. ‘The money Father let me have.’
‘You’ll have your mother’s dowry,’ snapped the duke. ‘And don’t you get on your high horse about that, Deverall.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Grace. It is Cleo’s by rights.’
‘You’ll get married in St George’s in three months’ time.’
‘One month and Cleo will decide where.’
He saw Cleo bite her lip to hide the smile. ‘St George’s. It will be better for Quin’s career if we have a big London wedding. And two weeks.’
