Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart
Page 99
And still she wanted more.
He made her a perfect match.
“If he seduced you, I have the right to tear him limb from limb.”
“That’s enough,” Callie said, standing. “Out.”
“You cannot exile me from my own library, Calpurnia.”
“I can and will. In fact, I have. Out!”
He gave a harsh laugh that did not hold much humor. “I am not going anywhere.” He turned to Juliana. “Do you want to marry him?”
Yes.
But it was not so simple.
The room was suddenly too small. She stood, heading for the exit. “I need . . . un momento,” she paused. “Per favore.”
As she reached the door, her brother called out to her, “Juliana.” When she turned back, he added, “Think about what you want. Whatever it is, you can have it.”
She left, closing the door behind her, allowing the hallway to cloak her in darkness.
She wanted Simon.
She wanted his love, yes. But she also wanted his respect and admiration. She wanted him to consider her his equal. She deserved as much, did she not? Deserved what she saw in Callie and Ralston, in Isabel and Nick, in Mariana and Rivington.
She wanted that.
And she did not have it.
Did she?
She took a deep breath, and another, replaying the events of the evening over and over in her mind.
He’d broken every rule he had—he’d ignored protocol and attended an event from which he had been uninvited, he’d allowed all of London to turn their backs on him, he’d stopped a ball.
He’d stopped a ball—bringing even more scandal down upon him—even as all of London turned their backs on him.
And he’d done it for her.
Because he cared for her.
Because he wanted to show her that she was more important than anything else. Than everything else.
And she’d refused him.
She’d refused his love.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, the realization coming like a blow to the stomach, and the door to the library opened.
Benedick stepped out into the hallway, a kind smile on his face. He closed the door behind him, shutting Callie and Ralston’s argument inside, and coming toward her.
She forced a smile. “Are they still arguing about me?”
He grinned. “No. Now they are discussing whether Callie should be riding still now that she is with child.”
She gave a little huff of laughter. “I imagine she will win.”
“I would not be so certain.” They were silent for a moment. “There is something I should like to discuss with you.”
“Is it about the duke? Because I would prefer not to discuss him, honestly.”
“Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Juliana, if you would like, I would have you. To wife.”
As proposals went, it was not the most eloquent, but it was honest, and her eyes went wide at the words. She shook her head. “Benedick—”
“Just hear me. We enjoy each other’s company, we are friends. And I think we would have a good time of it. You do not have to answer me now, but should you . . . have need of a husband . . .”
“No,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you very much, Benedick, but you deserve more than a wife in need of a husband.” She smiled. “And I deserve more than a husband who will simply have me to wife.”
He nodded once. “That much, at least, is true.” He paused. “For what it is worth, I think Leighton loves you very much.”
The words sent a sad little thrill through her. “I think so, too.”
“Then why not marry me?”
She snapped to attention at the words. Simon stood at the top of the stairs, soaked to the skin, face etched with lines of exhaustion. He had removed his hat, but his hair was plastered to his head and his coat hung wet and ragged from his shoulders. He looked terrible.
He looked wonderful.
“How did you . . . how did you get in here?” she asked.
“This is not the first house into which I have stormed this evening. I’m making quite a career of it.”
She smiled. She could not help it.
He let out a long sigh. “I had hoped to make you smile, Siren. I hated making you cry.”
She heard the truth in the words, and tears returned, unbidden.
He cursed in the darkness, “Allendale, I’m going to forgive your proposing to the woman I love. In return, do you think you could give us a moment?”
“I’m not certain I should.”
“I’m not going to ravish her on the landing.”
Benedick turned to Juliana for approval. After a long moment, she nodded. “Five minutes.” The earl met Simon’s gaze. “And I’m coming back.”
He returned to the library, and the second the door closed, Simon took a step toward her, reaching for her even as he stopped several feet away. He dropped his arms, raked one hand through his drenched hair, and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to win you.”
You’ve already won me, she wanted to say. You’ve already ruined me for all others.
He continued. “So I shall simply tell you the truth. I have spent my entire life preparing for a cold, unfeeling, unimpassioned life—a life filled with pleasantries and simplicity. And then you came into it . . . you . . . the opposite of all that. You are beautiful and brilliant and bold and so very passionate about life and love and those things that you believe in. And you taught me that everything I believed, everything I thought I wanted, everything I had spent my life espousing—all of it . . . it is wrong. I want your version of life . . . vivid and emotional and messy and wonderful and filled with happiness. But I cannot have it without you.
He made her a perfect match.
“If he seduced you, I have the right to tear him limb from limb.”
“That’s enough,” Callie said, standing. “Out.”
“You cannot exile me from my own library, Calpurnia.”
“I can and will. In fact, I have. Out!”
He gave a harsh laugh that did not hold much humor. “I am not going anywhere.” He turned to Juliana. “Do you want to marry him?”
Yes.
But it was not so simple.
The room was suddenly too small. She stood, heading for the exit. “I need . . . un momento,” she paused. “Per favore.”
As she reached the door, her brother called out to her, “Juliana.” When she turned back, he added, “Think about what you want. Whatever it is, you can have it.”
She left, closing the door behind her, allowing the hallway to cloak her in darkness.
She wanted Simon.
She wanted his love, yes. But she also wanted his respect and admiration. She wanted him to consider her his equal. She deserved as much, did she not? Deserved what she saw in Callie and Ralston, in Isabel and Nick, in Mariana and Rivington.
She wanted that.
And she did not have it.
Did she?
She took a deep breath, and another, replaying the events of the evening over and over in her mind.
He’d broken every rule he had—he’d ignored protocol and attended an event from which he had been uninvited, he’d allowed all of London to turn their backs on him, he’d stopped a ball.
He’d stopped a ball—bringing even more scandal down upon him—even as all of London turned their backs on him.
And he’d done it for her.
Because he cared for her.
Because he wanted to show her that she was more important than anything else. Than everything else.
And she’d refused him.
She’d refused his love.
She wrapped her arms around her middle, the realization coming like a blow to the stomach, and the door to the library opened.
Benedick stepped out into the hallway, a kind smile on his face. He closed the door behind him, shutting Callie and Ralston’s argument inside, and coming toward her.
She forced a smile. “Are they still arguing about me?”
He grinned. “No. Now they are discussing whether Callie should be riding still now that she is with child.”
She gave a little huff of laughter. “I imagine she will win.”
“I would not be so certain.” They were silent for a moment. “There is something I should like to discuss with you.”
“Is it about the duke? Because I would prefer not to discuss him, honestly.”
“Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Juliana, if you would like, I would have you. To wife.”
As proposals went, it was not the most eloquent, but it was honest, and her eyes went wide at the words. She shook her head. “Benedick—”
“Just hear me. We enjoy each other’s company, we are friends. And I think we would have a good time of it. You do not have to answer me now, but should you . . . have need of a husband . . .”
“No,” she said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you very much, Benedick, but you deserve more than a wife in need of a husband.” She smiled. “And I deserve more than a husband who will simply have me to wife.”
He nodded once. “That much, at least, is true.” He paused. “For what it is worth, I think Leighton loves you very much.”
The words sent a sad little thrill through her. “I think so, too.”
“Then why not marry me?”
She snapped to attention at the words. Simon stood at the top of the stairs, soaked to the skin, face etched with lines of exhaustion. He had removed his hat, but his hair was plastered to his head and his coat hung wet and ragged from his shoulders. He looked terrible.
He looked wonderful.
“How did you . . . how did you get in here?” she asked.
“This is not the first house into which I have stormed this evening. I’m making quite a career of it.”
She smiled. She could not help it.
He let out a long sigh. “I had hoped to make you smile, Siren. I hated making you cry.”
She heard the truth in the words, and tears returned, unbidden.
He cursed in the darkness, “Allendale, I’m going to forgive your proposing to the woman I love. In return, do you think you could give us a moment?”
“I’m not certain I should.”
“I’m not going to ravish her on the landing.”
Benedick turned to Juliana for approval. After a long moment, she nodded. “Five minutes.” The earl met Simon’s gaze. “And I’m coming back.”
He returned to the library, and the second the door closed, Simon took a step toward her, reaching for her even as he stopped several feet away. He dropped his arms, raked one hand through his drenched hair, and shook his head. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to win you.”
You’ve already won me, she wanted to say. You’ve already ruined me for all others.
He continued. “So I shall simply tell you the truth. I have spent my entire life preparing for a cold, unfeeling, unimpassioned life—a life filled with pleasantries and simplicity. And then you came into it . . . you . . . the opposite of all that. You are beautiful and brilliant and bold and so very passionate about life and love and those things that you believe in. And you taught me that everything I believed, everything I thought I wanted, everything I had spent my life espousing—all of it . . . it is wrong. I want your version of life . . . vivid and emotional and messy and wonderful and filled with happiness. But I cannot have it without you.
