One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

“You are the one who led him to believe otherwise, with your stammering and blushing. I am merely taking the honorable course, by not contradicting you.”


“The honorable course? Well, this is a fresh development. Were you taking the honorable course when you groped me in the carriage?”

“That was … an experiment.”

“An experiment,” she echoed in disbelief. “Pray tell me, what did you learn?”

“Two things. First, it assured me of your virtue.”

“My virtue? You were—” Oh, there was no use in mincing words now. “You were able to divine my virginity, by fondling my leg.”

“Yes.”

She covered her eyes with one hand, then traced her left eyebrow with a fingertip. “Forgive me, Your Grace. Are you suggesting a woman is some sort of … piece of fruit to you? One squeeze, and you know if she’s ripe?”

“No.” He laughed softly. A low, brief chuckle. It took her by surprise, for she had not thought him a man capable of humor. “It was not what I squeezed that convinced me, but rather your reaction to being squeezed.”

Amelia’s face burned as she recalled her squawk of surprise, and the alacrity with which she had sought the farthest corner of the cab. Even that distance had not been far enough. The heat of his touch had lingered on her thigh, then melted and spread over her entire body. Her mind had been in upheaval, her pulse a mad riot.

She was not sure she had recovered, even now.

She took a deep breath. “You say this experiment of yours brought you to two conclusions, Your Grace. Dare I ask, what was the second?”

He gave her a bold, scorching look. “That I would not find it a chore to bed you.”

Oh, Lord.

What, pray tell, was the appropriate response to that? Her own body could not come to an accord on the matter. A blush burned on her cheeks, her stomach twisted itself into a knot, and her blood skittered merrily through her veins.

Don’t react as though you were flattered, she told herself sternly. Do not take perverse excitement in the fact that the Duke of Morland has evidently given a good deal of thought to the idea of bedding you, perhaps even imagined the act in detail. Do not—do not—dream of imagining it yourself!

Too late, too late.

Amelia pushed the carnal image away and struggled to tamp down any sensation that might be construed as a thrill. The duke had not called her desirable. He had deemed her beddable, and in highly insulting fashion at that. No doubt he would say the same of any chambermaid.

“I cannot credit this,” she finally said.

“You believe me insincere?”

“I believe you inconsistent. Here you are offering to marry me this morning. Yet not seven hours ago, you were ready to duel Mr. Bellamy rather than offer for Lily. And she, I might add, has a greater claim on your honor.” And more beauty. And more grace. And more money.

“I did not wish to marry Lily.”

The back of Amelia’s neck prickled, against all her attempts to remind it that the duke’s statement was not a compliment to her.

“Lady Amelia,” he continued, “in all our conversations, you have paid me the compliment of unflinching honesty. May I be completely frank with you now?”

She waved her hand in invitation.

“As Lily advised, I have taken Leo’s death as a reminder of my own mortality, and as a call to action. I have a ward, several years my junior. It will be two years before her introduction, and longer still before she is ready to wed. If some misfortune were to befall me in the interim, my title and estate would pass to distant relations, and her fate would be in the hands of strangers. I cannot risk it. Therefore, I have decided to marry and produce an heir.”

“Just this morning, you have decided this.”

“Yes.”

“Why me, and not Lily? Why not one of the other ladies you’ve auditioned, over the course of dozens of balls?”

He looked taken aback. “Auditioned? Is that what people believe, that I have been conducting a search for my bride? Trial by waltzing?”

“Yes, of course.”

He laughed again. Twice in one morning now. Astonishing. And this time, his laugh had a rich, velvet quality that stroked her with heat from crown to toe.

“No. That has not been my purpose, I assure you. But I will answer your question honestly. I wish to produce an heir, as quickly as possible. I have no inclination to court, flatter, or otherwise woo some silly young chit scarcely half my age. Neither do I have the patience to engage the hand of a grieving woman who will be in mourning for the next year. Dowries are of no importance to me. I simply need a sensible woman from suitable bloodlines, of robust constitution and even temperament, with whom to create a few children.”

She stared at him in horror. “You want a broodmare!”