“You do not love her?”
“I’ve known her since she was a child, our families have long been connected through friendship. It would be a perfect alliance.”
Prudence persisted. “But do you love her?”
His lips pressed together, and for a moment she thought he was not going to answer her question. “No,” he finally said. “I do not love her. If I could follow my own inclinations in matrimony, I would never consider making Lady Alberta my duchess and the mother of my children.” He paused, and his expression softened as he looked at her. “If I were free to love, I would make a different choice.”
Pleasure bloomed inside her with those words, and hope rekindled. “Then—”
“But I am not free!” He raked a hand through his hair. “The day of our picnic, I forgot that fact. For one day I chose to forget my situation and my responsibilities. I thought only of my own yearnings and desires. And though it was one of the most pleasurable afternoons of my life, I fear it led you to believe I could offer you more than mere friendship, led you to hope for more than I can give. Indeed, I can see by your face today that my selfish actions have wounded you, and I deeply regret that.”
Despite this confirmation of her puffy face, her spirits were soaring higher with each word he spoke, and she knew she had to tell him about her inheritance. “Your Grace—”
“Please indulge me a moment longer,” he interrupted. “I must say these things now, for I fear there will never be another opportunity. I come from a family of ne’er-do-wells and spendthrifts, Miss Bosworth, and I confess, to my shame, that I am no exception. When I went abroad, I was young, wild, and damnably irresponsible. I spent my inheritance in the pursuit of my own pleasure, and when that was gone I accumulated debts, never caring about the future, or even thinking about it. But when I came home, when I assumed the title, I finally appreciated just what an enormous burden it is to be the duke. I also found that I was not the only one in my family with debts. My uncle was bankrupt when he died. They called his death a hunting accident, but it was suicide, for his creditors were about to take what little there was. My mother is nearly destitute, for he hadn’t paid her jointure for years. I have aunts, uncles, cousins, all in the same situation, and they are all looking to me. I am the duke, the head of the family, I must take care of them.”
“Of course,” she said, eager to share her news now, berating herself for not having told him straightaway. Of course, a duke would need to wed a woman of means. If she’d thought it through, she would have concluded that for herself. She had to tell him the truth.
He didn’t give her the chance. “My uncle allowed the seven ducal estates to go to rack and ruin,” he went on. “Some of those estates have been in the De Winter family since the time of Edward I. Those lands supported their nearby villages for centuries, but now cannot even honor their debts to the local tradesmen. There are hundreds of people to whom I owe debts on behalf of the estates, debts I cannot honor. There are servants and former servants owed back wages, village tradesmen owed money on account. These people have their own families to support, and since I cannot pay them, they suffer terribly. Then there are the tenant farmers who can’t pay their land rents, yet have nowhere else to go. All of these people are looking to me, waiting and hoping I can save them from these times of agricultural calamity. I cannot save them unless I marry a woman of wealth.”
It was destiny, she realized. She had all this money coming to her, money she could only claim upon marriage, money she yearned to use for some useful purpose. All her life she had longed for a place to belong. And here before her was the most extraordinary man she had ever met, a man who only had to smile to gladden her heart, a man whose touch filled her with longing, a man who had made it clear to her that were he free to follow his heart, he would love her and give her the honor of his name.
“So,” he said, bringing her out of these romantic speculations, “now you have the ugly truth about me.” He shook back his hair with a trace of defiance. “How you must despise me for it.”
“No, no, I don’t despise you,” she assured him, dismayed that he would think such a thing. She crossed the room and laid her hand on his arm. “I—”
He jerked away as if her touch burned him. “I must take my leave. I am expected at Lord Denville’s for dinner.” He stepped away from the window, walked around her and started for the door.
“Wait!” Prudence cried, turning. “Please, don’t go.”
He stopped, one hand on the handle of the closed door, his back to her. “Tarrying here only tortures me further, Miss Bosworth. Let me go.”
“No, please, stay,” she said, and once again walked to his side. “This is a day for confessions, it seems, for there is something I must tell you. I ask you to remain a few moments longer.”
“Very well.” He did not look at her. Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the oak panels of the door. “What is it you wish to tell me?”
She once again laid her hand on his arm, and this time he did not pull away. He remained perfectly still, the muscles of his arm hard and tense beneath her fingers. “Your Grace, when we saw each other at the opera, I told you I’d had a change in my circumstances, but I did not explain precisely what that change was.”
“Yes, you did. I remember. You were reconciling with your mother’s family, you said.” He stirred beneath her touch. “Is this important?”
“What I failed to tell you was that I have money.”
He gave a short laugh, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Prudence, while I’m sure your uncle has managed to scrape together an allowance for you so that you might have some pretty dresses and a season in town, and though he may even be able to provide you with a dowry, it couldn’t possibly make a dent in the De Winter family debts. We are drowning. We owe money everywhere.” He shook his head violently and once again tore his arm from her grasp as if to leave.
“I have millions,” she burst out, not knowing how else to say it.
St. Cyres turned to stare at her, looking blank and a bit stunned. She completely understood what he must be feeling. This sort of news was rather shattering. “Prudence, what are you talking about?”
“My father was Henry Abernathy, the American millionaire. He died recently, and in his will he left his entire fortune to me. I’m surprised you haven’t heard about me already. The news has been in all the papers, and I’m sure people have been talking about it.”
“I’ve been shut up in my study most days with matters of business,” he murmured, sounding dazed. “There’s been so much to do since I arrived home, and I haven’t had much time for reading the papers, or for gossip either.” He frowned, looking thoughtful. “I did hear something about the Abernathy heiress at the ball last night. That woman is you?” Even when she confirmed it with a nod, he still didn’t seem to believe her. “You are the Abernathy heiress?”
“Yes. When I marry, I shall receive an income of about one million pounds per annum.” Anxious, she stared at him, waiting, hardly daring to hope. “Is it enough to save you?”
“Enough?” He laughed at that. “Enough? Woman, it’s enormous.”
“It is rather.”
“But—” He paused, frowning at her. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, Prudence? You had plenty of opportunity.” He sounded quite nettled all of a sudden.
Prudence swallowed hard. “I didn’t want you to know because I was ashamed.”
“Ashamed of what, in heaven’s name? Being rich?”
“I was afraid that if you knew the truth, you would not…that I could never be the sort of woman you would…that you couldn’t possibly want to…” She took a deep breath amid the tangle of awkward attempts and just said it. “My father never married my mother. I am illegitimate.”
“And you thought I would condemn you for that?”
“Most people would. Besides, you’re a duke. You could hardly wish a woman born on the…on the wrong side of the blankets to be your duchess.”
He shook his head and began to laugh. “Of all the absurd—” He broke off, tossed aside his hat and lifted his hands to cup her face. “If you knew how many peers are not the true sons of the men whose titles they claim,” he said, smiling at her, “it would shock you right out of your middle-class sensibilities, Prudence.”
Disbelieving, she started to shake her head, but his hands held her still. “It’s true,” he assured her. “Rumors have been floating around our family tree for years as to who my father really was.”
“What?” Despite his warning, she was shocked. “Do you mean—”
“My mother had so many lovers, there was no way to be certain. So you see? I’ve no cause to disparage anyone’s paternity. The man I knew as my father claimed me, but there was no way he could ever be sure.”
“So you don’t care?”
“I don’t give a tinker’s damn. The only thing that matters to me is what can now happen for us. Your news means we can marry. That’s the only thing I care about.”