Page 13 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

Marigold froze, and if anyone were to ask her the reason why, she wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint it. It could be either his proximity, his deep voice, or even the implication of his question.

“You would not do that.”

The Duke chuckled.

“You’re either naive or fearless.”

“I am neither. I am simply observant, and I have watched you save me twice in one day,” Marigold said and turned to look at him.

Any mischievous look he had was dropped, and he seemed genuinely shocked by the truth of the facts. He got up swiftly, hands in his pockets.

“I think you completely misunderstood the situation, Lady Marigold,” he said.

“Did I?”

“It seems that you mistake me for some kind of savior,” he turned to her, “while all I wanted was information.”

Marigold stood up and came closer to this man. It was a very delicate balance that she was trying to keep right now.

“And I will gladly provide that information if you would just⁠—”

“There will be no scandal,” he cut her off firmly.

“You don’t understand, Your Grace,” Marigold exhaled. “A man of your station would never understand⁠—”

“I am not calling off the betrothal, sweetheart.”

Marigold was certain she was thinking of something quite important, but everything went blank the moment he uttered this phrase. It had a unique combination of a finite threat and a sarcastic punchline when he called her sweetheart.

It was quite obvious that it was her turn to say something, probably ask for clarification, and perhaps make sure that she was in the same reality as the one that she woke up in. And yet there was nothing to be uttered.

Her inaction prompted his action. The Duke moved decisively and caught her chin between his fingers. His thick pair of lips tilted up into a devilish smirk.

“You will be my wife, and you will tell me everything. This is the deal.”

CHAPTER 4

DEALINGS WITH THE DEVIL

The grey morning light coming through the kitchen window did nothing to warm Marigold. Not even the familiar sound of the boiling kettle and the promise of warmth could calm her nerves. She desperately needed to attribute this to the fact that she hadn’t slept all night, but she was wise enough to know that this internal spiral was not because of lack of sleep, but rather the reason that brought on this turbulence.

You will be my wife.

That is what he said with absolute certainty, with a straight face, looking at her square in the eyes. Marigold had long given up the prospect of a married life, and if she were completely honest, she still couldn’t fully believe that he was serious about this.

She was equally perplexed and relieved to know that it was all partly because he needed information. But she had provided an alternative of giving that information without having to walk down the aisle toward a Duke whose name she didn’t even actually know.

“It is perfectly all right, Marigold,” she tried to convince herself. “This is just another obstacle on the list. It just skipped the line of urgency, way past the debt to the butcher. Perhaps even the loan from Johnny and his gang.”

For one brief second, her mind offered the treacherous thought of her becoming a duchess, living in a luxurious house, and having her tea served by the servants she saw in his estate instead of toiling herself in the kitchen alone just to have some meager meal.

But just as quickly, she shook her head and chased that dream away. It was dangerous for someone like her to think like that. There was no universe where her marrying the Duke would ever become a sustainable reality, so all she needed to do was find a way to get herself out of this predicament before it got out of control. She had dealt with worse than this before in her life.

“Lady Marigold,” Alfred interrupted her.

He was being quite formal, the tone that he rarely used around her. After all, she may be the lady of the house, but she just served her own breakfast, so that fact alone certainly took away some of the allure of being a lady.

“Is something the matter?”