“I did. It seemed you were most eager to speak with me.”
“I am, indeed, Your Grace. Do take a seat.” She indicated the sofa across from hers, but Ernest sat beside her. His leg was just a few inches from hers and she could smell the alcohol on his breath.It is only three in the afternoon, she thought.
Rose moved along the sofa to put a greater space between them, earning herself a sardonic smile.
Ernest was undoing the buttons on his dress coat as he stretched out his legs. Rose could not fault the quality of his attire. He wore tan-colored breeches and a matching jacket, with a spotless white shirt and darker brown vest. His stockings were also white, and his leather shoes were fancier than many of the pairs she owned. But in terms of physical attraction, none of that could detract from his ruddy skin, broken veins, and heavy jowls. He also had the most unfortunate hair. Dark and wiry, it stood up on his head in a constant refusal to be tamed. The Duke caught her looking, and smiled again.
“Am I to assume you no longer find my presence so displeasing?” He asked, puffing out his chest a little.
“I wish to discuss a business arrangement,” she said.
“I see!” Ernest’s eyes narrowed.
“A few days ago, you suggested a… union. Between you and me. You’ll remember that I dismissed you out of hand.”
His smile faded a little as he shifted his weight on the cushions. Rose enjoyed the feeling of wrong-footing him, if briefly, but forced herself to go on. “However, after careful consideration, I have decided to accept your offer for the sake of the dukedom and because it makes financial and logistical sense.”
Rose kept her shoulders back, her chin up, and her gaze fixed on him. But thennoticed amusement creeping into the Duke's features.
“Will you now?” He was toying with the beading along the cushion on which he was sitting.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And you do understand that all your fancy words do not affect the terms of my offer. You understand that, unlike my brother, I will not countenance a marriage in name only.”
“Yes.” Rose managed to reply with far more confidence than she felt. “But I will insist upon my own bedchamber, an allowance to meet my needs, and the right to visit my sister. I also do not wish to take up residence at the London house at any point.”
Ernest let out a low chuckle.
“Has something I said amused you, Your Grace?”
“You amuse me,” Ernest said as he shuffled closer to her on the sofa. She steeled herself not to move away. “You speak to me as if it is you granting me favors and not the other way around.”
He touched the lilac fabric of her dress with one finger. She froze but did not stop him. He started rubbing his finger across the material at her knee. She fought hard not to pull her leg away from her. She knew she had to let him touch her, and she also knew she had to find a way to get used to it.
“I will agree to your terms,” he said finally, “but not because you have demanded them, but because they suit me well.”
He was watching his own finger tracing the outline of her leg from knee to mid-thigh. It felt like he was carving her in stone. The cushion dipped as he leaned closer. “You will be provided with the means befitting a duchess of the realm. I am not a bad man. Of course, you may see your family here or at your family home, but I will not permit excessive absences if I deem they are to avoid me and your conjugal duties. I, too, sleep better on my own, however, there shall be no locked doors between us, and I shall have unlimited access to your bedchamber whenever I please, and indeed, unlimited access to this very fine body.” His finger stalled at the top of her thigh. “And that access will be in the bedchamber or out of it.” He raised his eyes to hers and smiled. “I intend to be a very attentive husband.” A threat rather than a promise.
Rose felt physically sick. She wanted to scream at him to unhand her, but she knew this was a test of her resolve and that she must pass it for her plan to succeed. Could she allow the Duke to touch her? Could she bear him making love to her for decades? Was she really strong enough to go through with this arrangement? But what choice did she have?
“I understand, Your Grace,” she managed to say.
“Also,” he went on, finally removing his finger from her leg, “I do not intend to spend much time in London myself. All I will need will be right here.”
“Very good,” Rose said softly. She looked down at her hands to avoid looking at him. Then, he caught her completely off guard.
“You’re quite beautiful, you know,” he murmured.
Rose’s eyes flew to his, but instead of meeting a sneering, smug look, for a moment, Ernest looked quite genuine. “I also find your spirit fascinating. You have a strength rarely seen in a woman.”
Rose had no idea what to say. She felt like she should acknowledge a compliment genuinely given, but before she could formulate her response, he slammed his hand down hard on her right leg and guffawed. “I shall look forward to taming you!”
He leered at her in a most ungentlemanly fashion before looking up at a portrait of Ambrose on the drawing room wall. “I hated my brother my whole life,” he said. “He took everything. He was a bully. Now I have his title and his woman, and he can do nothing about it. Do you know how good that feels, Rose? To thwart him?”
She didn’t answer.
Ernest dropped his left hand hard on her thigh, then slid it forcefully across and down to rest between her legs, halfway between her knee and her hip. He wasn't holding or caressing her, but his hand was heavy. She knew she wasn't in danger because Jennings would come if she called out. But she sat motionless, trying to suppress her disgust. His face was less than an inch away from hers, and he was purposefully leaning in closer..