Page 24 of The Duke’s Masked Wallflower

She said nothing, only stared at him with her discomfiting gaze. He had not been sure where to begin before. The idea had barely manifested. Being in front of her was hardly helping. He had never felt so powerless before a woman and so much like a child, not even with his aunt or his own mother. It was because, unlike them, she wanted nothing to do with him, he figured.

“My aunt is unwell. Perhaps you noticed this when you traveled with her. Or perhaps you did not. Her humors are wildly changing. And her nerves... I have seen this before in her, and selfishly I do not long to watch it happen again.”

“She seemed in good health to me.”

“It is not a physical ailment.”

Miss Winthrop nodded. “I see. Then I understand.”

He was surprised she did not ask more questions, but he persevered. Elisabeth would curse him for being born if she learned he had spoken about her like she was vulnerable and sick. But he doubted Miss Winthrop would reveal what he shared with her in this moment, regardless of her future answer.

“Partly she is not well surrounded. This is a cause of distress for her. In order to amend this, she believes I ought to marry and provide her with many great-nieces and great-nephews. She has told me so more than once, and I think it would ease something in her to believe I was at least attempting. If she learns about our highly delicate situation, if word should spread further about last night, it would pain her to see me as what I am.”

“And what are you?”

“Why, a rake. Surely you can tell.”

She pursed her lips, thinking. Was she summing him up in that very moment? Considering all the factors before she made up her mind? Gabriel didn’t want to find out the answer. He put a hand up and watched her face as he said the rest, aware of exactly how mad it would sound, and he said it anyway, because he had come too far now to turn back.

“This is what I propose: a courtship between us, of a false and theatrical nature. We should behave in a way that satisfies society and my aunt so they believe we are seriously engaged, but this will not be the case in reality. I would not ask something real of you. Do you understand me?”

She gazed across the water. Her face was in profile, blank and pale in the gray light of the day. She nodded. It was a minute gesture.

“And if I may say it plainly, such a farce would be enough perhaps to finally provoke Mr. Sinclair into deciding what he actually wants, rather than what propriety obliges a decent widower to offer a young lady. That was your own suggestion to me—to incite a man into declaring himself to you through an assignation with another.”

Color rose in her face at once. “You are asking me to pretend an attachment to you,” she said slowly and turned, “so that another man might grow jealous enough to offer for me in earnest. You accused me once of devising asinine plots⁠—”

“In good humor.”

“And yet it remains that this is the most foolish plot of all.”

He shrugged. “This is what I suggest, to help you and to provide some relief to Lady Chipping, as I previously said.”

“And to help yourself, let us not forget.” She frowned, and he didn’t like her expression at all. “This is no real solution to the problem of Lady Chipping—a lie. Do you not think she will be heartbroken when she discovers the truth?”

“She will not discover the truth. We will end our courtship long before then. You will make me a rejected suitor. You will choose Mr. Sinclair.”

“Why would I do that?” Miss Winthrop shook her head, taking a step closer to him. He couldn’t help his heart skipping a beat. “You are the Duke of Hartmere, Your Grace. No woman would choose the third son of a viscount over a duke. Society will not believe otherwise.”

“But you will choose another,” he said, growing suddenly uncomfortable. “Because you love him. Or you wish to love him and be loved in return. But we will tell them you love him now with your whole heart.”

She said nothing. Why was she displeased? This was what she wanted from the first, wasn’t it? Gabriel suppressed a sigh and glanced at James and his companion. They were still speaking rather than watching. Their lives seemed so easy; no one was trapped in a web of misunderstandings and plots.

“Your plan begs another question.” Miss Winthrop quietly called his attention back to her. She had turned from him and was walking the length of the dock. “In this story of yours, why would you want to court me?”

He could think of many reasons a gentleman like him would court a woman like her, regardless of her good breeding. She was beautiful to him, and so clever. She was funny—and that would make for an entertaining courtship if nothing else. She seemed to have a good heart. Yes, if the courtship were real, he could be very happy with a woman like Miss Rosalie Winthrop, who was a rose in more than name but somehow shelved by the rest of the ton gentlemen.

There was no point telling her this. She would not want to hear it from him.

“For convenience?” he said jokingly, not quite selling the joke even to himself. “We were caught in something not quite a scandal but too close to comfort. The trials of it brought us closer.” He stepped closer to her, watching the wind gently dance the ringlets at the nape of her neck. There was a mole behind her ear.

He thought for a moment and looked away. “Or because we wanted to? We have met at the Peachey dinner, and now today. They will not ask how this came to be.”

“It might hurt Mr. Sinclair.”

“It is not unusual to be sought out by several hands.”

“For you perhaps,” she said somewhat venomously.