“I’ll Marry the First Man Who Enters,” She Joked — Then the Duke Walked In
Chapter 4
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Heat rushed up Bella's neck, burning her cheeks. "That was a joke. A moment of poor humor born of exhaustion. If you have come to mock me, you can leave.""I didn't come to mock you," Augustus said flatly. "I came to hold you to it."Bella froze. The grandfather clock in the hall ticked once, twice. "I beg your pardon?"Augustus leaned back. "I have been the Duke of Westford for six months. In that time, I have had no less than 40 women throw themselves at my feet, faint in my path, or accidentally drop their handkerchiefs into my soup. Their mothers treat me like a prized bull at a county fair. They want the title. They want the money. And they pretend they are enamored with a coal miner who doesn't know a sonnet from a sheepdog."He paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "You, Miss Holloway, do not pretend.""You don't know me," she countered."I know enough," Augustus said. "I had my solicitor look into your family this morning. Your brother owes Lord Cavenaugh 2,000 pounds. You have no dowry. Your estate is mortgaged to the hilt. You are 25 years old, drowning in debt, and sinking fast."Bella flinched. The blunt articulation of her misery felt like a physical blow. "If you are quite finished listing my humiliations—""I am offering you a position," Augustus interrupted. "A partnership. I need a duchess. I need someone to run my houses, organize the staff, and navigate the society I refuse to tolerate. More importantly, I need an heir. If I die without one, the title passes to my cousin, Silas, who is a degenerate gambler and a fool."Augustus stood up. He paced to the window, blocking out the light."I do not want a love match. I want a woman who understands reality. I will pay your brother's debts today. I will provide you with an allowance that will ensure you never look at a ledger again. You get security. I get a wife who won't expect me to write her poetry."Bella stared at his broad back. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He was serious; the man was entirely serious."You want to marry me," she said slowly, testing the words, "because I made a desperate joke at a ball?"Augustus turned around. "I want to marry you because when I walked into that room, you looked at me like I was a man—not a prize, and not a monster. You just looked exhausted." He took a step toward her. "We can help each other, Bella. It is a transaction: clean, simple.""Marriage is rarely clean or simple, Your Grace.""It is if both parties agree to the terms," he replied. "Think about it. I will return tomorrow for your answer."He walked past her. He didn't bow; he didn't kiss her hand; he simply opened the door and let himself out.Bella stood in the center of the threadbare rug, listening to the heavy thud of his boots fading down the steps. She looked down at the ledger on the floor: 2,000 pounds. She picked it up and threw it into the cold fireplace.