He had to give the woman credit. She was damned persuasive when it came to something so incredulous. But it was the fact he was actually considering her proposal that was verging on madness.

He allowed his gaze to drop to her mouth. If he had Miss Pageant all to himself for the next three weeks, it could be rather dangerous indeed. He’d only been around her for one night and already she had him so befuddled that he couldn’t think straight. That was probably why he opened his mouth to refuse, but found that the opposite came out instead.

“Very well, Miss Pageant. Challenge accepted.”

Emary had to work to keep her surprise from showing. She couldn’t believe that he’d actually taken the bait!

She thought she might have gone too far when she’d questioned his virility, for his blue eyes had flashed dangerously. She’d only said it to rile him, for she knew very well that men much older than him were more than capable of fathering children. And she had no doubt that he would be able to…perform the task quite admirably.

Just looking at him did strange things to her body. She could only imagine if they were involved in a more sordid act…

Stop it this instant! Such musings would not assist her cause but only push him away from her. She had a plan, a certain path that she must traverse if she were to succeed and win a true proposal by Christmas, so she mustn’t stray to perilous territory and allow her desires to overrule her common sense.

The music came to an end, and Emary allowed a brief, victorious smile to touch her lips. “That settles it then. Shall we have the banns read this Sunday? For appearances sake, of course,” she quickly added.

The duke swallowed visibly before he offered a bow. “I will take care of it.” When he straightened, he held out his arm to her and escorted her back to her circle of admirers with a bow. “Miss Pageant.”

Once he’d taken his leave of her, Miss Parkhurst wasted no time in demanding everything that was said between them.

Emary merely looked at her and said rather coyly, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Several hours later, Emary was headed home in the carriage with her parents. She carefully stifled a yawn with her gloved hand. She was tired and ready to climb into her bed and sleep for what few hours of nighttime that she had remaining. Of course, she wouldn’t have to rise before noon if she didn’t wish to. Her mother was rather forgiving that way when it came to certain events. She always said that it wouldn’t do for Emary to traipse about town in the afternoon with dark circles under her eyes.

“I am given to understand that this evening went well,” her mother remarked.

“And who said that?”

“The Duchess of Windwood herself,” the viscountess returned. “She seems to believe that her son might harbor a certain interest toward you. You were the only one he stood up with this evening, after all. And the look he gave you when we left…” Her mother’s hand fluttered. “Why it was purely sinful. If he calls we shall have to make sure you are thoroughly chaperoned.”

Emary had to hold back a satisfied grin. “I’m sure I’m just a passing fancy, Mother. No doubt he will forget all about me by morning.”

Her father, who had been silent until that point, gave a snort. “I doubt it, my dear. I do believe that you might have snagged yourself a duke for a husband. Well done.”

Emary felt tears prick the back of her eyes in the face of her father’s praise. All of her life she’d known what was expected of her, had been raised to carefully observe the proprieties and walk a straight line, but nothing compared to her parents approval. She felt like a…daughter, instead of just a society debutante. “Thank you, Papa. I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am,” he returned firmly. “Mark my words. There will be a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps even sooner than that,” her mother added.

Emary said nothing. They would find out in two short days when the first of the banns would be read.

That is, if the duke followed through on his promise.

The next afternoon, Emary was in the drawing room working on some needlepoint when her mother rushed into the room waving a paper in her grasp. “We have been invited by the duchess and her son to attend church with them on the morrow at St. Paul’s Cathedral!” she announced, nearly out of breath.

Emary hid a pleased smile behind her frame. “How delightful.”

When her mother didn’t respond, she glanced up to see Lady Armenton eyeing her curiously. “Is there something I should know, Emary?”

Emary shrugged. “I shouldn’t think so.” In truth, she wanted to giggle with glee, but to spoil a surprise of this magnitude would just be too awful. It would be best to see her parents’ faces light up when the first of the marriage banns were read. While the duke didn’t imagine it was anything more than a harmless lark, she intended to make it real by the end.

Unfortunately, as London was wont to do, the drawing room soon filled with ladies who wanted the full on dit behind such a special invitation, as nothing was secret in the beau monde. Emary played her part, laughing gaily and making them all wonder as to the reason behind it all, never once letting on that she knew anything about it. She would have loved nothing more than to return to her needlepoint or even escape to the solitude of her room, but she forced herself to sip her tea and present the correct appearances.

When the last of the guests had finally taken their leave, Emary slumped back in her chair, the strain of sitting so stiff and poised for hours upon end having taken its toll.

“My gracious,” her mother remarked as she sat across from her daughter with a similar pose. She had opened her fan and was waving it madly in front of her face. “I don’t believe that we’ve ever had that many visitors in one afternoon! It never ceases to amaze me how fast word travels in London, especially when I was under the impression that it was a personal correspondence.”

“Servants are the web of the city, Mother,” Emary pointed out. “Not to mention the buzz the duke caused last evening by choosing to solely stand up with me, and for the waltz at that.”

“Yes, you’re right, of course,” Lady Armenton murmured. She rose to her feet. “I suppose I should go to the kitchens to make sure Cook has everything prepared for supper. I’m nigh on famished after such an invasion.”

Emary couldn’t help but laugh as her mother took her leave. She stood up as well, but she didn’t get the chance to return to her neglected needlepoint before the butler entered with a card upon a silver salver. “You have a guest, my lady.”

She wanted to groan. Another one? She didn’t even glance at the card, just waved her hand. “Send them in, if you please.”

He hesitated a moment before he bowed and took his leave.

Emary took the opportunity to stretch the kinks out of her back. She raised her arms above her head and sighed in delight as her muscles loosened. She heard a strange sound, like some sort of groan, so she lowered her arms and turned to greet the caller. Her grin widened when she spied the duke standing in the doorway, but when she noticed the look of torture on his face, his scar standing out in stark, white contrast, she felt her smile falter slightly.

This didn’t bode well. “Your Grace.” She greeted him with a curtsy, and then asked cautiously, “Are you quite well?”

Donovan wanted to burst out laughing. Was he well? Pretty damn far from it, actually. He had been rather well and composed — until he’d walked in the room and saw Emary with her arms up in the air, back arched, with those enticing, full breasts thrust forward, barely contained by the pale yellow silk of her gown. A surge of lust had immediately rushed through him with enough power that it nearly knocked him to his knees and stole the air from his lungs.

He’d met countless French forces on the field of battle, yet he knew it was this

slip of a woman who was going to be the death of him. After having some time to consider her proposal, he had been fully prepared to call on her and put an end to this foolish charade. It was the reason for the church invitation, not because he had intended on going through with the banns being read, but because he wasn’t. But one look at her tempting visage now and every bit of his carefully prepared speech vanished into thin air.

She looked so damned delectable standing there, uncertain of what he might say, when she really should have been concerned over what he intended to do.

Without a word, he reached her in three long strides. He cupped her face in his palms and crashed his mouth into hers. She stiffened slightly at first, but then her body eased into the embrace. She clutched his shoulders and moaned deep in her throat. Donovan instantly went hard.

He deepened the kiss, coaxing her lips to part with his tongue. When she opened to him, he delved inside, determined to taste her. She was sweet, like honey and tea and smelled like fresh, ripe peaches. He forced himself to go easy with her, not taking any more than she would allow, but according to her urgent response to him, her tongue daring to sneak forward and mate with his, he knew that wasn’t an issue.

Donovan dared to slowly slide his hands farther down her body. He paused when he reached her ribcage. He boldly reached out and ran the pads of his thumbs across her firm nipples, which were eagerly pressing against the material of her dress. How he yearned to expose those enticing mounds of flesh to his gaze, to feast upon them properly, but he managed to tear himself away before he found himself acting upon the impulse. He took a full step backward.

His breath was heavy as he looked at her. Her brown eyes were glazed over with unrequited passion that lay dormant beneath the cloak of an innocent. Her lips were swollen and damp from his kisses. It made him want to return for another sampling, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop there if he gave in a second time. The first was nearly his undoing.

“If that’s how you say hello,” she whispered huskily. “I should wish for you to call upon me every day.”

He gave a chuckle, however strained it might have been. “In that case, I daresay you’d enjoy it when I said good morning.” Her eyes widened slightly, and he had to look away from the curious anticipation he read there.

She blinked several times, finally regaining enough of her composure to sit down while gesturing for him to do the same. He took a seat across from her. After taking a deep breath, she said, “I can call for some fresh tea if you wish.” She gestured to the teacart in the corner. “We’ve had a particularly busy morning entertaining guests, so I fear what’s left will be cold by now.”