Panic welled inside Alex. “But, Father—”
Winsome held up his hand to stave off her argument. “Alexandra, you have no choice. I’ve made my decision. You will not independently establish your own residence. You are an unmarried “ward” of Winsome. Such action will reflect upon your sisters. Sophia is on the marriage mart and Callie’s come out is but two short years away. It’s out of the question,” he said gently.
Alex’s slumped forward. She had no power to hold back her disappointment. But no words surged forth.
“Millburn has asked for your hand and, well, I’ve given it.”
Alex’s heart pounded, but not with disappointment—she didn’t think—more like anticipation.
“He deserves something from me. I killed his father.”
Her whole body deflated. “So, I’m his consolation for your errors of the past.”
“Of course not.”
“What would you call it then?” she said tightly.
“Damn it, Alexandra, you know how these things work.”
She did indeed. Theodore Millburn ruined her, so he felt obligated to marry her. As a woman, and “ward” of Winsome, she must do as she was bid so as not to reflect badly on the dukedom and his household. “Then I shall stay with Olivia. Where is she staying?”
“Mrs. Dunstan’s townhouse. And you certainly will not stay there. It’s near St. James Place and that is no place for a proper young woman.”
“Father—”
“Enough.” He roared, though never at her—before now.
She was stunned momentarily speechless.
He inhaled deeply. “Now, Millburn, I mean Urvay is waiting for you in the drawing room. I don’t want to hear another word about your moving away unless it’s to tell me you’ve accepted his suit.”
“I’m sorry, Theo. I’m not usually so emotional.” Alexandra stood at the windows in the formal drawing room of Winsome’s townhouse.
Theo smiled. One thing he’d come to realize in this entire debacle was that Alexandra Giselle Blessing was an emotional young woman, she’d just learned to hide it extremely well. “Hmm.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Definitely emotional. He ignored the question. “What are you sorry about?”
“For the duke—in forcing you to marry me.”
“He’s not forcing me, darling. I’ve already told you I wish to marry you.”
“Then you believe he’s forcing me?”
“Mmm.”
“Is that a yes?” Her eyes flashed with rare temper and she turned her gaze out the window. “This particular brand of humor does not suit you, Lord Urvay.” Her use of his recently acquired title was not meant as a compliment.
Theo suppressed his groan and his laughter. “Alexandra, please don’t make things more difficult than need be.” He strolled over to her, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and laid his lips at the side of her neck. Her body trembling in his hold gave him hope. His greatest wish was to marry her. But he wanted her to want him in the same way. “If marrying me is not your greatest desire, then regrettably, there will be no wedding.”
“Then I’ll be ruined.”
“Such is the way of the world, my darling. Come.” His arms fell away, and he took her hand and led her to the settee. “I have something for you. A Christmas gift, if you will.”
Her bottom lip poked out in an uncharacteristic pout. Another hopeful sign. “There’s my mother too. I don’t wish for her to leave London.”
“Of course not. But I believe I have a solution for that.” He sat down next to her, turned her palm up and laid a warm piece of metal in it. “This is for you.”
Frowning, she opened her hand. “It’s a key.”
He didn’t say anything for fear of babbling like a fool. This was a decision she had to make; he could only extend the offer.
The vein at her neck pulsed. She was quiet for a long time. When she looked up, her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I don’t understand. What does this mean?”
“It means you don’t have to marry me. Your mother can live with you if that is your greatest wish.” He looked down at his fingers involuntarily drumming on his knee. He stilled them. Then swallowed. Hard.
He had to tell her. The truth. “I know I’ve only known you a few days, but I imagine myself waking up beside you for the rest of my life. Sitting across the table from you every morning. Playing chess with you every night after dinner. What I’m saying is…”
Two fingers pressed across his lips. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say it.”
He clasped her wrist, brought it to his mouth and brushed lightly. “I want to say it. I believe I love you. If this is not love, then it is not long out of the realm. No one will ever force you to marry me. But know that I would be the happiest man alive were you to choose me.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Must I decide now?”
“Depends on who you ask, I suppose.”
“Gareth, come away from the door. I vow you are as bad as your son.” Frederika took her husband’s arm and hauled him down the hall.
“He told her she didn’t have to marry,” Winsome gritted out.
“It’s called respecting her wishes, darling. ’Tis the nineties and you must trust your daughter. And Mr. Millburn for that matter. They will do what is best for them. You have two more daughters to dictate to. Alexandra is eight and twenty. If she chooses not to marry at this time, her mother will look after her.”
“I suppose you are right.” He scowled, though agreeing went against every grain in his being.
“I suspect Mr. Millburn will convince Alex, regardless. He is in love with her you know.”
“That isn’t what he said.”
“They’ve only known each other a short time. It shan’t take them long. Not when they cannot wake up in the same bed.”
Winsome stopped, the iron weighing his shoulders suddenly lifted. “You do make an excellent point, my dear.” He grinned. “A very excellent point.”