She Kissed Him In Front Of Everyone To Save Him — Not Knowing That She Had Just Saved The Richest Duke
Chapter 6
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"I am," Alistair said. He pulled out the chair next to her, scraping it across the floorboards, and sat down without being invited. He crossed his long legs, entirely dwarfing the fragile wooden chair."But last night," Lydia stammered, abandoning all decorum, "you were standing there alone. The Rutledges were attempting to corner you.""Yes," Alistair said smoothly. "A rather clumsy maneuver. I was waiting to see how far Lady Rutledge was willing to push her daughter before I summoned my men to remove them from my presence."Lydia blinked. The pieces of the puzzle shifted, rearranging themselves into a horrifying new picture."You weren’t trapped," she whispered."I am rarely trapped, Miss Thorne." The corner of his mouth twitched upward, a brief, dangerous flash of amusement. "I was observing. I find the desperation of the ton to be mildly educational. I had the situation entirely in hand."Lydia felt her face flood with heat. Humiliation burned the back of her throat. She hadn’t saved a helpless victim; she had thrown herself onto a grenade that was never going to explode. She had ruined herself to protect a wolf from a pair of particularly annoying gnats."I see," Lydia said stiffly. She gripped the edge of the table, willing her hands not to shake. "Then I apologize for interrupting your education, Your Grace. It seems my intervention was entirely unnecessary.""Unnecessary," Alistair agreed slowly, his gray eyes locked onto hers, heavy and intense. "But spectacular."Lydia froze."You ruined yourself," Alistair continued, his voice dropping a fraction. "To save a man you believed to be a defenseless stranger. A man who offered you nothing. A man who, by all accounts, was about to be caught in his own stupidity.""I have a distaste for bullies," Lydia muttered, looking away."So I gathered." Alistair leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. He was close enough now that she could smell the cedarwood again. "But unfortunately, Miss Thorne, your noble, misguided rescue has created a complication."Lydia braced herself. "If you are here to offer me money to leave London, Your Grace, you can save your breath. I am ruined. I am aware of it. We will pack our things and move to the country by the end of the week."Margaret made another tiny, weeping sound in the background.Alistair didn’t blink. "Leave London? I think not."He reached into the inner pocket of his coat. He didn’t pull out a purse of coins or a bank draft; he pulled out a folded piece of heavy parchment sealed with red wax. He tossed it onto the table between them."What is this?" Lydia asked, eyeing it like it was a snake."A special license," Alistair said calmly. "Procured from the Archbishop this morning at an ungodly hour."Lydia looked from the parchment to his face. "A license for what?""For our wedding, Miss Thorne." Alistair leaned back, watching her with predatory stillness. "You threw your reputation into the fire and branded me as your own in front of 200 people. The gossip sheets this morning declare that the untouchable Duke of Westmorland has been carrying on a torrid, secret affair with a spinster from Bloomsbury."