To Bed a Beaty

My dearest Fanny, disaster has struck and I fear it is very much my own fault! I am now betrothed to the Duke of Arden.

– Roslyn to Fanny

Roslyn stared speechlessly at Arden, wondering frantically how they could escape this wretched catastrophe.

To her surprise, he didn’t seem nearly as dismayed as she was. Indeed, his expression seemed almost nonchalant as he crossed to where her clothing hung. His tone was just as bland when he declared, “We need to dress. The Goodey carriage will be returning for us shortly.”

“That is all you have to say?” she demanded in disbelief. “We are facing utter calamity and all you care about is getting dressed?”

He lifted an amused eyebrow at her. “Would you rather remain half naked?”

“No, of course not-”

“Then put on your clothes, love. This is hardly the calamity you think it,” he added as he retrieved her still- damp corset and held it out to her. When Roslyn made no move to take the undergarment, he tugged the quilt from around her shoulders. “Don’t be so missish,” he ordered, tossing the quilt on the chair. “We are betrothed now.”

“We are not betrothed. You only said that to blunt the disgrace of our being discovered together.”

“No, I said it because I have every intention of wedding you. Now turn around so I can hook you up.”

“I can dress myself!”

He wasn’t listening, however. His hands clasping her upper arms, he spun her so that her back faced him. Roslyn had no desire to don the cold, clammy corset, yet she could hardly leave her lingerie there in the cottage or carry it with her, so she raised her arms and allowed Arden to slide the garment around her torso. She shivered when moisture seeped through her thin chemise, and squirmed when he fitted the bustle beneath her breasts.

“Hold still.”

Although gritting her teeth, she dutifully stood as he fastened the hooks, but when she felt his lips caress the bare curve of her shoulder, she whirled and glared at him mutinously. “Will you please leave off your lechery long enough to discuss this predicament seriously?”

“What is there to discuss?”

“Our betrothal, what else! You are purposefully being obtuse.”

“No, I fully comprehend your problem. You do also, or you would have refuted my announcement in front of our unexpected guests instead of waiting until we were alone to argue with me.”

“It is your problem as well as mine!” Roslyn exclaimed.

“So it is. But I intend to accept my fate gracefully.”

She wanted to hit him. When he would have helped her on with her gown, she snatched it from him and struggled into it, wincing when the damp sleeves chilled her arms.

As he started putting on his own clothing, Roslyn clenched her teeth, disgruntled and frustrated that she had landed herself in such a fix. She was furious at herself. She had vowed to keep away from the duke, not to melt in his arms like a perfect wanton.

She was just as angry at him for making her lose her head, for enchanting her so that she’d eagerly abandoned any semblance of common sense. She had planned out her entire future, and now it lay in ruins.

She would not let herself cry, though. In the first place she loathed watering pots. And in the second, she had brought this disaster on herself. Now, somehow, she had to determine what to do about it.

“How could I ever have let this happen?” she lamented in a muttered undertone.

“How could you have resisted?” Arden replied. “I had every intention of taking up where we left off last night.”

Roslyn turned to stare at him as he tucked in the tails of his shirt. “You planned my seduction this afternoon?”

He grinned ruefully. “Not exactly. Even I don’t have the power to arrange a storm at my convenience. But I was glad for the opportunity to speed up the pace of our courtship.”

“Even after I told you I would never marry you?”

“I never intended to let your refusal stand. And having you almost naked in my arms was too great a temptation.” He shrugged into his waistcoat and began fastening the buttons. “Did you honestly expect me to keep my hands off you, darling? I may be a gentleman but I’m not a saint.”

Roslyn huffed indelicately. “I would say you are not much of a gentleman, either. You promised you wouldn’t ravish me.”

“And I kept my promise. You were entirely willing.”

Her expression contorted into a grimace before she set her jaw. “I won’t accept your proposal, your grace.”

“You most certainly will accept it,” he stated with the cool assurance of a man who inevitably got his own way. “You have no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” she insisted stubbornly.

“Not for members of our class. Marriage is the only honorable course for a gentleman after taking a lady’s virginity. And the lady is even more at the mercy of convention. A betrothal is the only way to keep any shred of your reputation intact.”

Roslyn had no immediate response to his declaration. Although indignant at his high-handedness, she knew Arden was set on protecting her reputation. Yet she couldn’t stand that he was compelled to offer for her.

“I won’t allow you to make such a sacrifice on my account,” she finally said through gritted teeth.

“I am not so sure it would be a sacrifice on my part.”

“It will. You have told me more than once how arduously you try to avoid the grasping females chasing you. If I accept your offer, you will only accuse me of ensnaring you against your will.”

Amusement danced in his eyes as he shook his head. “I know better. And it is actually a great comfort to know you won’t be marrying me for my title or fortune.”

“This is no laughing matter, your grace!”

He suddenly fixed her with those penetrating green eyes. “I agree, but neither is it cause for tears, sweetheart.”

Knowing further argument was futile, Roslyn turned away unhappily to fetch her shoes and stockings.

“Don’t you think a marriage of convenience preferable to a ruined reputation?” the duke asked.

“No!” she retorted, even though she knew it wasn’t true. She sank down into the chair before the hearth to put on her stockings. She wouldn’t force Arden into a marriage that was repugnant to him. Nor would she herself be compelled to marry without love.

Confound it all! She had only wanted one critical thing in her marriage: to love and be loved. She’d always vowed she would never settle for less. But if she married the duke, she would have to give up that dream.

“Before you refuse, perhaps you should think of your sisters,” he pointed out. “Can they afford another scandal in the family?”

Roslyn’s heart sank. Any scandal she caused would certainly reflect on her sisters-just when they had finally gotten out from beneath the cloud of shame that had hovered over them for four long years.

“And what about your academy?” Arden asked. “How will the gossip impact your position there?”

She nearly groaned. She would have to stop teaching when word of her affair with the duke got out. Their pupils’ parents would never approve of a scarlet woman tarnishing their precious young daughters, nor should they. Jerking on her stocking, Roslyn muttered an invective that no lady should even know, much less say aloud.

Ignoring her outburst along with his sodden cravat, Arden sat in another chair to don his own stockings and boots. “You must admit,” he added congenially, “in the eyes of the Beau Monde, being betrothed to a duke will make up for a multitude of sins.”

Roslyn abruptly straightened, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Perhaps, but you don’t love me, and I don’t love you.”

“We have friendship at least. We enjoy each other’s company. And I expect our married life will rarely be dull.”