She was for the moment unable to find words to express her bewilderment. “I beg your pardon!” she finally cried, quite taken aback.
“You heard me, Miss Danvers.”
“But surely I could not have, Your Grace.”
“I value my privacy, and while you are a guest in my home, I will not have a keen-eyed gossiper reporting anything of my life to the press or society. Curiosity and conjecture I will not tolerate. I trust this will be no hardship for you.”
“I fear I cannot visit you in Scotland. That is an outrageous suggestion, and I must not undertake to do so,” she said, perturbed at his unapologetic audacity.
“I’ve not allowed any room for negotiations.”
His brilliant blue eyes chilled, and that loss of warmth sent a warning down her spine.
“I cannot traipse around the countryside without a chaperone. My reputation might come under the severest of scrutiny.”
Another sip of his tea, an artful, calculating pause. “How surprising you think of matters such as your reputation. After this elaborate ruse, I cannot believe you are as delicate as you protest to be.”
A mocking brow arched, and she flushed. That low tightening in her stomach and the slow drum of her heart when their gazes collided was a decidedly odd sensation.
The teacup and saucer were lowered carefully to the walnut table. He leaned back against the cushions in a relaxed pose, crossing his long, muscular legs at the ankles. “A lady of your daring should have no reservations.”
“I will not be goaded into acting without propriety. I am not the rash sort, though I daresay it may appear so, Your Grace,” she retorted.
Tension crackled in the air between them.
“Ah, so your deception to pose as my fiancée was methodically planned and craftily executed.”
Kitty blinked, at a loss for words for precious seconds. “Let me ardently assure Your Grace, I did not enjoy the disagreeable necessity of the charade I orchestrated for society.”
That oddly admiring smile once again curved his lips. “How old are you, Miss Danvers?”
She considered refusing the unexpected question, then said, “Three and twenty, Your Grace.”
“You are not a debutante who requires constant supervision. You are ingenious enough to surrender to my plans without a prick to your reputation. I trust you will see it done, hmm?”
He remained entirely unmoved.
“Your Grace—”
“You will agree to all my terms or end the engagement today.”
His voice was so low and well-modulated, it took precious seconds to absorb the ruthless intent laced within its soft tones. Her entire body trembled, and her heart fluttered like a captive bird. It was a minute or two before she could trust herself to speak, and the dratted man simply waited.
“The season is a gauntlet that needs the most delicate of guidance. My sisters cannot do without me. Everything I’ve sacrificed is for them. To leave them when they need me…” She paused and took a deep breath.
His closed expression suggested her pleas were futile.
“You’ll be gone for a week or two at most; they’ll survive,” the duke said drily.
“I owe you much, Your Grace, but surely there is a different manner in which I might make amends.”
He favored her with another of his measuring glances. “I will have my godmother—the Countess of Darling—take your sisters under her wing. Lady Darling’s stamp of approval will surpass your hovering presence as they navigate the marriage mart.”
Kitty’s breath exploded on a gasp. The countess was one of the most influential ladies of society, and her patronage was more than Kitty ever dreamed of for her sisters. Emotions clogged her throat as she stared at him. “You are willing to do that?”
“Yes. And if this is any consolation, my sister, Penny, will be our shadow. She’ll be a very interfering chaperone,” he said with mild amusement and a good deal of fondness. How startling to see the softening of his severe features.
“Your sister resides with you in Scotland?”