Home > Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (Love By Numbers #2)(94)

Ten Ways to Be Adored When Landing a Lord (Love By Numbers #2)(94)
Author: Sarah MacLean

“I would choose the latter.”

Leighton laughed, the sound humorless. “You would not.”

“I would in this case. Because there is a factor that you have not considered.”

Isabel could no longer remain quiet. “There is? ”

He looked at her then, registering her uncertainty, her surprise, and behind it all, her fear. “There is. We are to be married. Which puts Lady Georgiana—and her circumstances—under my protection.”

The duke crossed his arms and turned to Isabel. “Is this true?”

Isabel shook her head, her face pale. “No. I never said I would marry him.”

Her denial cut Nick to the quick. The idea that she might not marry him after yesterday—after last night—was unacceptable. Anger flared, along with hurt and irritation. Years of practice kept them from surfacing.

Instead, he turned to cool humor. “Your memory is failing you, Isabel. You said you would marry me yesterday morning.” He paused, waiting for her to meet his gaze. “In the statuary. Don’t you remember?”

Of course she remembered. She gasped at the words. “That was before everything changed!“

“Indeed, it was. Before it became an imperative.” The insinuation in the words sent a blush across her cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!“

“I know precisely what you mean. I also know I am not leaving here without marrying you.”

“I don’t need you. We are fine by ourselves.”

I don’t need you.

The statement set him off. “Yes, I see that. Because you’ve got a houseful of women in hiding with no protection for them and God only knows how many ruffians hunting for you after Leighton put out his call, a house, I might add, that is literally falling down around you, not to mention a child who needs more training than most pups I’ve met and has inherited one of the most troubled earldoms in the country, the sister of a duke about to bear a bastard child, and … you’ve been compromised! But you are fine.

“You think that asking for help makes you weak. What makes you weak is your naïve insistence that if you say you need no one, you will be able to hold everything together! Of course you need me! You need a battalion to keep this place out of trouble!” His voice rose to a thunder. “How can you possibly think that I wouldn’t marry you, you madwoman? His words echoed in the room for a long moment, and Isabel’s eyes welled with tears. He immediately regretted his words. “Isabel,” he said softly, reaching for her, wanting to take it all back.

She held up a hand, staying his motion. “No.” She turned to Leighton, “If those are my options, Your Grace, then obviously I choose the one that is least likely to ruin Townsend Park.”

The duke cleared his throat. “If what St. John has said is true, I must insist you marry, Lady Isabel, as a gentleman.” She nodded.

“I shall send for a minister.”

She nodded again, her lips pressed in a thin line, as though she were holding back tears. And then she ran from the room, leaving Nick feeling like an ass. Frustration flared. “I shall send for a minister, dammit.”

As if it mattered.

He moved to go after her, eager to explain himself.

To apologize.

To do what he could to win her.

“I would not, if I were you,” the duke intoned.

Nick turned on him. “Oh, and your actions with women today seem so very on point, Leighton.”

“She shall come around.”

“Yes, well, I’m not so sure. She is not like other women.” “I had not noticed.”

Nick moved to sit in a nearby chair, holding his head in his hands. “I’m an ass.”

Leighton took the seat across from him and removed a cheroot from the silver case in his pocket, lighting it. “You shan’t get an argument from me.”

Nick looked up. “You’re an ass, as well, you know.”

“I suppose I am.” The duke sighed. “Goddammit. Pregnant. She’s only seventeen. Not even out.”

“You can’t ignore her forever.”

“No … but I can give it some effort.”

“She’s a good girl, Leighton. She does not deserve your anger.”

“I do not want to think on her.” The words brooked no discussion. There was silence for a while, before he added, “So you are in love with the lady.”

Nick sat back in the chair, staring up at the ceiling. Of course he was in love with her. She was the most remarkable person he’d ever known. “God help me, I am.”

“In my experience, the path to a woman’s heart rarely begins with announcing her being compromised to a roomful of people.”

“It wasn’t a roomful.” Nick closed his eyes. “I am an idiot.”

“Yes. But she’s going to marry you.”

“Because we’ve forced her hand.”

“Nonsense.”

Nick looked at his friend. “The Duke of Leighton has insisted she marry or he will destroy the thing she considers most dear. What would you do? ”

“It is a fair point,” Leighton allowed. He took several thoughtful puffs on the cigar. “Although I will say this … Your lady does not seem the type to run from adversity.”

Nick thought of Isabel on the roof, and on the Dunscroft commons, and in the kitchens with her Amazonian army. “You are right about that.”

The duke considered his cheroot for a long moment. “Is it possible she cares for you? ”

“Not this morning.”

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