He made his way and let himself in. Nora was standing next to the bookshelves, a faraway look on her face. She turned as he entered. “Your Grace.”
“No need for such formality. I did propose to you, for all that you’ve not given me a positive answer. Though I do understand it was perhaps a little abrupt on my part.”
“There is no perhaps about it, Your Grace. No more than there is any likelihood of my accepting your... offer.”
“Why not?” He forced himself to remain calm, though he was surprised at her forthrightness. Surely as his mother’s maid, she understood that perhaps at least considering his offer was only sensible. “I mean, you are here, so I was rather under the impression you were considering the matter.”
“Your mother asked me to wait, and I was willing to do so for her sake. She has been kind to me. But I assure you, Your Grace, that if it is consideration you seek, there is no need for further discussion. I have no intention of giving any serious consideration to this ridiculous and farcical affair.”
That... stung. He’d known she was not pleased with his manner of asking for her hand nor his decision to make a scene in front of the peerage, but he hadn’t thought she was that offended by his actions. Nor did he believe himself such an unattractive prospect as she seemed to consider him.
He forced himself to remain calm, adopting a nonchalant demeanor. “Well, I suppose I have no choice but to respect your decision. But if I am to be rejected, I should like to know why.”
“Why? Because, Your Grace, I’ve no interest in being involved with members of theton. I could cheerfully go the rest of my days without any further interactions with Society.”
Well, he could grant that they hadn’t made the best impression this evening. Even so... he took a step nearer. “It needn’t be the wholeton. Being a Duchess… well, there’s no harm if you chose to be a bit reclusive.” He studied her expression and sighed. “There have been amiable marriages based on tolerance and courtesy before this, and I rather think we could have a friendly relationship if you were willing to consider it.”
He’d thought she might soften at that, but from how her eyes flashed and her hands clenched into tight fists, tucked almost out of sight in her skirts, she was in no way appeased.
“A friendly relationship. A marriage of tolerance, convenience, and courtesy, for no more than a show to thetonand a pretty face to trot out on rare occasions, and never mind the rumors that might circulate in Society. A secretive Duchess hidden away like a shameful mistake. I wonder, do you comprehend what sort of life you offer me or ask me to lead? Or have you simply no more care for my reputation than you have shown for your own?”
“I did not mean it that way. I only meant that you need not associate with thetonif you did not wish to.” He sighed and moved further into the room. “I shall be honest. In truth, I was not particularly serious when I made my proposal. It was more a jest to needle my lady mother and perhaps encourage her to cease her attempts to wed me off to the first maid who gives her reason. But a proposal there has been, intended or not, and no reason it might not be a beneficial relationship all around.”
“And how so if I am to be your cloistered and unsociable wife?”
“Why, there’s no reason our personal lives should not go on as independently as they have done until now.” He shrugged. “Mother approves of you, likely because you’re well educated and well-spoken for a serving maid, and she’ll not complain—not after giving such public approval. She’d cease meddling in my private affairs once the Banns were posted, and I could well do with the freedom from her constant concern over heirs and grandchildren.”
“I see no benefit for me in this, Your Grace.” The words were gritted between clenched teeth, and she rather looked as if she might slap him any moment now.
“No... you would, of course, be afforded all the courtesies and comforts a Duchess is entitled to. And so long as you are discreet, I’ve no reason to meddle in your personal affairs either. I’d only ask that you keep your name out of the scandal sheets. And that you take measures to ensure there are no bastard babes born out of wedlock. I should like legitimate heirs, after all, and my mother will expect them.”
* * *
She’d thought her night could get no worse. She’d been wrong.
She listened to the Duke laying out his proposal, as calm and simple as if were a mere trade of goods and services on market day, and not her life to be overset and what little reputation she had tarnished beyond repair.
Did the man truly think no one would notice when his lovers continued in and out of his house as before? Did he think no one would talk, that she would not become known throughout Society as the disgraceful wife who was not only a simple serving maid who’d aimed above her station but who was unable to even satisfy the noble husband she’d managed to ensnare?
Did he think there would be no rumors that any babe she bore was a bastard child since it was obvious she could not keep him in her bed? She’d be an over-reaching harlot and an unsatisfactory adulterer all in one.
And that was leaving aside the matter of Lydia. For what would he say if she introduced him to her illegitimate daughter? For that matter, what would the ton say when it became apparent, as it would, that she’d a child who was too old to be a product of any union between herself and the Duke?
It was her father’s proposal to marry her off to Lord Graven all over again. Only this time, the man himself was making the proposal without the excuse of overwrought nerves and wounded pride that her father had possessed.
A loveless and ultimately fruitless marriage, which would in the end only destroy what little reputation and worth she had in anyone’s eyes, save perhaps Lydia’s and Scarlett’s.
For all her attempts to maintain her composure, this was too much. She leaned against the bookcase, laughter as bitter as bile burning through the back of her throat as it escaped her.
“So gracious of you, Your Grace. But I think you misunderstand me.” She raised her head and gave him a cold stare. “It is not that I am disillusioned with Society. It is that I have met far too many men like you, lords of the ton in their fine evening jackets with self-satisfied and self-assured manners, acting as though a mere act of birth made them worthier men than many an honest laborer. Women like me, women who serve in your households and clear your tables and wash your laundry... we know you for what you are truly worth, and in many cases, it is far less than the men who scrape your boots and shine your riding tack.”
There was a part of her that knew she courted dismissal, but he had begun this, and if he intended to use her in such crude jests, then she would tell him what she thought of him in truth and see what he made of it. And if he dismissed her, so be it.
“You come to me with your proposal and act as if you offer me something fine and gracious, without even the courtesy to see that you offer me only ruination. I have yet to meet a man of thetonthat I found anything less than contemptible. What makes you think yourself of any better character than they, and why should I share that opinion when you propose openly to my face that I should serve as little better than a well-kept mistress… or rather I should say something far less reputable even than that.”
She watched him reel back from her words, stunned into silence by her vehemence or perhaps by the idea that she might see it as less than honorable to be the plaything of a member of the ton.
She moved toward the door, intending to leave and make her way home, truly ready to be done with the evening.