Desperate Duchesses - Page 70/77

Roberta moaned again.

Damon saw immediately that his future father-in-law was enjoying himself hugely. “Displaying his considerable skills in melodrama,” he muttered to Roberta, “the enraged peer advances, blood in his eye.”

“Blood in his eye?” Roberta cried. And then: “Selina!”

“I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Gryffyn,” His Majesty said, standing up. Two footmen quickly moved into a position to catch him should he topple toward the river.

“Your Majesty,” Damon said, “I was overcome by her beauty.”

Roberta buried her face in her hands. She was overcome by humiliation.

“You shall pay for your impetuous folly,” the marquess said with magnificent emphasis. “You shall marry her!”

“I want nothing less,” Damon said, looking down at Roberta.

Villiers decided that was his cue. “I relinquish my claim to Lady Roberta’s hand,” he announced. “She is free to wed whomever she pleases.”

There was a slight diversion when Mrs. Grope realized who was in the boat next to her. She too rose to her feet, wobbling with the excitement of the moment and managed a deep curtsy, panniers and all. “Your Majesty,” she cried. “’Tis I!”

“Bless me,” Prince George said, peering at her. “Don’t tell me that’s pretty little Rose?”

“Indeed!”

“A more charming Desdemona you never saw,” he told Selina, who appeared to have divined the reason why Mrs. Grope was in the marquess’s boat, and wasn’t looking too happy about it. “You must all come back to the house and celebrate the nuptial couple!”

Villiers stood up and bowed, effortlessly holding his balance in his boat. “I fear my dismay would dampen the festivities,” he said. “With your permission, Your Majesty, I shall return to my house.”

The prince appeared to notice he was there for the first time. “Dismay?” he said. “Dampen? What are you talking about, Villiers?”

“The duke thought to marry my daughter,” Lord Wharton said, unable to stop smiling now the engagement was safely over.

“You did, eh, Villiers? I didn’t think you were in the marital line,” His Majesty said. “Never mind. Better to stay a bachelor. Look how much fun I’m having!” He roared with laughter, and then sobered. “I’ve been meaning to challenge you to a game of chess one of these days. I’ve got the hook of the sport now and I win almost every match. I’m ready to take you on.”

Villiers bowed again. “It would be my greatest pleasure.” Then, as the prince settled his bulk back into Selina’s boat, he turned to Jemma. “Would you like to join the others for the celebration?”

“Indeed, I would like to congratulate my brother, so I will take up His Majesty’s kind invitation.” She lowered her voice. “I would feel worse for you, Villiers, if I didn’t suspect that you will break out champagne when you get home.”

“Only to assuage my misery,” he assured her. “And perhaps to dull the thought of that chess game I just agreed to. Sometimes it’s harder to fix a loss than to win.”

The royal footmen nimbly maneuvered Villiers’s boat next to Selina’s, and with a minimum of squeaks, Jemma made her way on board and sat down next to the prince, who seemed very happy to meet the lovely Duchess of Beaumont.

“I’ve heard much about you,” he said, “and all of it good!”

Jemma had no doubt but that her reputation was a cause for celebration to this particular future king.

Without further ado, the two boats powered by footmen started to plow through the water, back upstream, while the boat carrying the Duke of Villiers headed the other way, to the steps.

“Don’t dally, Roberta!” the marquess shouted, hands cupped around his mouth, looking back at his daughter’s boat.

She didn’t see him. In fact, all that could be seen of her were scarlet ears, peeking out from behind her hands.

There was a moment or two of silence as the boats receded in both directions.

Damon tucked his shirt back into his breeches and pulled on his coat. Roberta still hadn’t moved.

He pulled up the pole, maneuvered the boat back under the willow with one great shove, and then tethered the boat again. Finally he sat down before her.

“Roberta, you’re going to have to look up at some point,” he said gently.

“I don’t want to.” Her voice was muffled by her hands.

“I’ve never proposed before,” he said. “I think it would be easier if I could see your face. That way if you look disgusted I can quickly throw myself off the boat and end it now.”

Her hands dropped. “Please don’t be melodramatic!” she cried. “I can’t bear it at the moment.” Her face was distinctly pink and her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“I’m just fooling.” He reached out and took her hands. “Are you crying because Villiers is lost to you?”

“I’m not crying,” she said, all evidence to the contrary.

In one smooth gesture, he slid forward onto his knees. “Roberta, will you marry me?”

“You already told me that you were marrying me,” she said, with a sniff.

He put one of her hands up to his mouth. “But this is a proper proposal. I decided to marry you about twenty minutes after we met, and I’ve waited a long time for this.”

Her mouth dropped open.

“Of course, you were nattering on about Villiers, so I couldn’t make it plain to you.”

“You didn’t!”

“Roberta, love, do you really think that I would take your virginity—and make love to you every chance I could get—without planning to marry you?”

“But I was engaged…”

“You were toying with the idea,” he said. “But at the same time, you were surrendering to me.”

“Surrendering?”

Her hands were at his mouth again. “Surrender,” he said firmly. “You’re mine, Roberta. Mine.” He could see a glimmer of a smile in her eyes, so he pulled her forward into his arms. Which made the boat rock rather violently, but neither of them even flinched.

“I don’t see that I surrendered,” she said.

Her mouth was so pink and delectable that he forgot his point for a while, and only returned to the subject some time later. “What did you think you were doing?” he asked, his mouth sliding down her neck.

“I was—I was—”

Now that he mentioned it, Roberta couldn’t remember quite what she was doing. Villiers made her angry and so she decided to lose her virginity…It sounded so foolish. “I was gaining experience,” she said firmly.

“You were surrendering to me. You just didn’t want to think of it that way,” he said, even more firmly. He cupped her face in his hands. “So, will you?”

“Will I marry you?”

He shook his head. “You are marrying me. Will you surrender?”

She put her arms around his neck and those foolish tears were back in her eyes. “I think,” she whispered, “that I already did.”

Chapter 36

H e was free, obviously a reason for rejoicing. The moment the boat poled back to the Fleet River steps, Villiers sprang out. His heel slipped on the slimy step; he teetered; he fell.