And then the Duke of Dartmoor did the unthinkable. He took both of her hands in his and dropped to a bended knee. “Miss Artemis Jones,” he intoned with great solemnity, “will you do me the untold honor—”
“What are you doing?” Artemis hissed, yanking her hands away. Confusion and anger and horror surged and roiled inside her. “This isnotwhat you’re supposed to do. You’re supposed to agree that I led you astray and that you have no obligation whatsoever to offer for my hand. And then you’re supposed to leave! Remember?”
“Artemis! What is wrong with you?” cried Aunt Roberta. “The Duke of Dartmoor is proposing to you, you stupid gel! Let him finish.”
“No. No, I will not,” she snapped back. “And since when did you become such an ardent admirer of the duke, dear Aunt?” Artemis was suddenly so furious, she could break one of the Northams’ fine porcelain vases that sat atop the mantelpiece over Dominic’s far-too-handsome head. Or better yet, she should run him through with the poker sitting in the fire-iron stand by the hearth. “The Duke of Dartmoor is a dastardly, duplicitous scoundrel,” she continued in a voice that shook with the force of her outrage, “and I do not want to hear one more word from his wicked, lying mouth.”
And then she picked up her skirts, pushed past her aunt, her sister, and her friends, and fled the library before the scalding tears flooding her vision began to fall.
***
She didn’t get very far. Not when she was encumbered by so many ridiculous skirts threatening to trip her up with every step and a determined, long-legged duke on her heels.
Artemis hadn’t even reached the end of the hallway when Dominic caught up to her.
A pox on this bloody gown and the Duke of Dartmoor, she mentally cursed as he grasped her by the upper arm and all but dragged her through a nearby door into a room that contained a pianoforte and harp. A music room.
Her blood boiling, she wrenched herself free and rounded on the man who’d just betrayed her. “Damn you to Hades, Dominic Winters,” she cried, poking him in the chest and forcing him to back up against the closed door. “How dare you go against your word? You…you promised to ruin me, not wed me! What in heaven’s name are you thinking? Ugh!”
She spun away and began to pace back and forth across the polished wooden floor, the heels of her silk pumps clicking angrily. “What am I supposed to do now? Aunt Roberta won’t leave me alone until I say ‘yes.’ She’ll plague me until the end of my days. Beelzebub’s ballocks.” Artemis deposited herself onto the velvet-lined pianoforte stool. “I should never have trusted you. You’re almost as bad as Lord Gas—” She clamped her mouth shut at that. Not even Dominic deserved that sort of insult.
“Lord Gascoyne?” He cocked a brow. “I’m not a saint by any means, but I don’t think I’m quite that level of awful.”
“No, you’re not,” she conceded through gritted teeth. “But that doesn’t mean that what you just did isn’t despicable.”
“Since when is a marriage proposal considered despicable?”
“When it’s not sincere!”
“But it is.”
“Oh, you expect me to believe that?” Artemis sprang to her feet again. “Dukes do not sincerely propose marriage to women like me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean ‘women like you’?”
“Rebellious bluestockings. Jaded spinsters. Almost thirty-year-old women who are not virginal or pure or blue blooded but have sharp tongues and radical ideas who never want to marry. That’s who I mean.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions about what I do and don’t want in a wife.” Dominic’s mouth tilted into a sardonic smile. “For one thing, I happen to like your tongue.”
She snorted. “I’m sure. Oh, and I forgot to add, I’m not even certain that I want children. Don’t you want lots of rosy-cheeked, happy babies to fill the ducal nursery? At the age of twenty-nine, I’m far too old to be anyone’s brood mare.”
Something flickered in his gaze. A flash of hurt, perhaps even anger, but then it was gone. “My sister, Horatia, was about your age when she gave birth to twin boys,” he said.
Artemis planted her hands on her hips. “That’s all well and good, but I still don’t understand why you are proposing to begin with. Rumor has it that you’re hunting for a new duchess, but I am not, nor will I ever be suitable. Aside from that, and it’s probably the most important point: I. Don’t. Want. To. Wed… Ever!”
Dominic rubbed his chin, his expression contemplative. “I think you need to think this through, Artemis, before dismissing me out of hand. Consider all of the possibilities. You know, there might be some benefit to you. And just because we become engaged, it doesn’t necessarily mean that marriage will follow.”
Artemis threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, so now you’re proposing an engagement of convenience? It seems to me that you are as inconstant and changeable as the wind, Your Grace.”
“I’ll admit this proposal has seemingly come out of nowhere, but as I mentioned, it might actually be worth your while to say yes. I propose we make another deal.”
“At this point in time, I’d rather make a deal with the devil,” muttered Artemis. “It seems to me that the Prince of Darkness himself would be more trustworthy.”
“I can understand why you’d think that way, but all I ask is that you hear me out.”
“Very well.” Artemis crossed her arms and fixed him with a hard stare. “I’m listening.”
Dominic crossed to the fireplace, then took up a wide stance on the hearthrug as though he owned the room and everything in it, including her. “If we become engaged, a few things will happen. First of all, your aunt will stop haranguing you. Second, your aunt’s unreasonable caveat preventing your sister, Phoebe, from marrying will be removed. Third, your reputation won’t be at risk of being ruined at all. I know your planning has been meticulous, but there might be a few here tonight who do actually suspect something highly irregular has passed between us. Not only did we dance together tonight, but you’ve just made a rather large to-do in the hall outside the library. Several other guests witnessed your dramatic exit and my pursuit. They know we’re in here right now. And that we’re alone. Part of me can’t believe you thought this scheme would actually work.”