Page 21 of To Dare a Duke

The duke entered the parlour, taking up all the space and all the air, as Prue felt anything she’d been breathing rushed from the room the moment he’d come in. Her lungs locked down.

What was he doing here?

Had he figured it out at last?

After several moments dumbstruck with shock, she curtseyed, still clutching the chair back for support. She glanced at the half-filled sheet of paper left upon her desk with a sickening sense of foreboding.

“Your grace?” she said, lacking anything more intelligent and hoping he’d get to the point with haste before she suffered a nervous collapse.

“Miss Chuffington-Smythe,” he said, and then turned to look at Sally who was dithering in the doorway, uncertain of what to do next.

“You may leave us, Sally,” Prue said, aware that was grossly improper but not wanting Sally to be a witness to the coming scene if she were about to face ruination.

Sally’s eyes grew wide and she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“You may leave the door ajar,” the duke said, giving orders as though it were his home. “I’ll not be here above a moment. Miss Chuffington-Smythe will be safe, I assure you.”

Prue watched the battle on Sally’s face, the desire to keep Prue from harm or scandal warring with the likelihood of a mere servant defying the will of a duke… and not just any duke, at that.

“It’s all right, Sally,” Prue said again, her voice soothing. “I’ll be fine.”

Sally gave Bedwin a direct look, almost a glare, and Prue felt a swell of affection for the woman that she would risk that much.

“I’ll not be far away, Miss,” she said, keeping her eyes on the duke, the words firm as she left them alone, leaving the door open a good six inches.

Silence filled the room, the only sound Prue’s heart beating in her ears. She wondered if he could hear it too.

“Miss Chuffington-Smythe,” the duke said, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable; he did not appear to be angry, but those dark eyebrows and darker eyes were so intimidating it was hard to be certain. “I’ll come straight to the point.”

Prue’s stomach lurched as if the room had pitched sideways and she grasped the chair back a little tighter.

“I would like to ask you if you would do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Prue blinked. She’d misheard obviously; the shock and the expectation of imminent doom had addled her brain. He couldn’t possibly…. She hadn’t just heard him say—

What had he said?

His wife?

Good lord!

The silence that had reigned after Sally had retreated, crept into the room once more as Prue stared at him, too shocked to react. She didn’t know how to react. Hysterical laughter or fainting seemed a distinct possibility.

“Did you hear what I said?” the duke asked, studying her with curiosity. Those dark eyebrows pulled together. “I asked you to marry me.” There was a distinct thread of irritation in the repetition of his question.

“I-I,” she stammered, before swallowing and trying again. “You asked me to marry you?” she said, posing it at a question despite having heard it twice now, just to be on the safe side.

“I did,” he said, his expression grave. He was staring at her, his piercing gaze unnerving. “And I await an answer.”

She almost did laugh then. What on earth did he expect her to say?

“No.”

His eyebrows hit his hairline and, in that moment, she realised he’d not even considered the possibility she would refuse him. She put her chin up, wondering if she ought to have softened her refusal and grasping the fact, she may have been just a tad ungracious.

“That is to say, your grace, I am very flattered by your offer, of course, and—”

“Is it my reputation?” he demanded, for the first time appearing unsure of himself. “Because if so, I can promise you—”