Only Beloved Read Online Free PDF Page A

single woman—or girl—he chose. His words, though, had wounded her, humiliated her.
    â€œI live a
solitary
life, Your Grace,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “By choice. Solitude and loneliness are not necessarily interchangeable words.”
    â€œI have offended you, Miss Debbins,” he said. “I do apologize. I am being unusually gauche. May I accept your offer of a seat after all? I need to explain myself far more lucidly. I did
not,
I assure you, search my mind for the loneliest lady of my acquaintance, pick on you, and dash off to propose marriage to you. Forgive me if I have given that impression.”
    â€œIt would be too absurd to believe that you need choose thus anyway,” she said, indicating the chair opposite hers again and sinking gratefully back into her own. She was not sure how much longer her knees would have held her upright.
    â€œIt occurred to me after I had given the matter some thought,” he said as he seated himself, “that what I most need and want is a companion and friend, someone with whom I can be comfortable, someone who would be content to be always at my side. Someone . . . all my own.And someone to share my bed. Forgive me—but it ought to be mentioned. I wished—wish—for more than a platonic relationship.”
    Dora was looking at her hands. Her cheeks were hot again—well, of course they were. But she lifted her eyes to his now, and the reality of what was happening rushed at her. He was
the Duke of Stanbrook
. She had been flattered, made breathless, been ridiculously pleased by his courteous attentions last year. One afternoon he and Flavian had escorted Agnes and her all the way home from Middlebury, and he had drawn her arm through his and conversed amicably with her and set her quite at her ease while they outpaced the other two. She had relished every moment of that walk and had relived it over and over again in the days following, and, indeed, ever since. Now he was
here
in her sitting room. He had come to propose marriage to her.
    â€œBut why me?” she asked again. Her voice sounded shockingly normal.
    â€œWhen I thought all these things,” he said, “they came with the image of you. I cannot explain why. I do not believe I know why. But it was of you I thought. Only you. If you refuse me, I believe I will remain as I am.”
    He was looking directly into her face, and now she saw not just an austere aristocrat. She saw a man. It was a stupid thought, one she would not have been able to explain if she had been called upon to do so. She felt breathless again and a bit shivery and was glad she was sitting down.
    And someone to share my bed.
    â€œI am thirty-nine years old, Your Grace,” she told him.
    â€œAh,” he said and half smiled again. “I have the effrontery, then, to be asking you to marry an older man. I am nine years your senior.”
    â€œI would be unable to bear you children,” she said. “At least—” She had not gone through the change of life yet, but it must surely happen soon.
    â€œI have a nephew,” he said, “a worthy young man of whom I am dearly fond. He is married and already father to a daughter. Sons will no doubt follow. I am not interested in having children in my nursery again, Miss Debbins.”
    She remembered that he had had a son who had been killed in Portugal or Spain during the wars. The duke must have been very young when that son was born. Then she recalled what he had said earlier about not having made a marriage proposal since he was seventeen.
    â€œIt is a companion I want,” he repeated. “A friend. A
woman
friend. A wife, in fact. I do not have grand romance or romantic passion to offer, I am afraid. I am past the age of such flights of fancy. But though I do not know you well or you me, I believe we would deal well together. I admire your talent as a musician and the beauty of soul it