Page 63 of An Inconvenient Duke

“You look terrible.”

Marcus cracked open an eye and stared past his valet, who was in the middle of shaving him, at Pearce as his old friend strode unannounced into his bedroom. “Good to know.” Gesturing for his valet to continue removing the last of the two-day stubble, he closed his eyes again. “Because I also feel terrible.”

Good Lord, did he ever. Last night with Danielle had exercised muscles that hadn’t been used in far too many months, leaving him stiff and sore in all kinds of delicious ways. Ways that also left him filled with apprehension. He’d made love to Danielle, but Hartsham’s presence still lingered over them, turning whatever joy they should have had from last night’s intimacies into tangled uncertainty that grew with the light of day, until they’d both remained in preoccupied silence when he returned her to her town house.

Never had he felt more happy yet uneasy in his life—and damnably worried that Danielle would continue to put herself in danger, especially now that she thought she might gain answers about Elise, and that next time, he wouldn’t be there to save her.

“Rough night on the town, eh?”

“You have no idea,” he grumbled from beneath the layer of lather.

“Oh, I bet I have some idea of it.” Amusement laced Pearce’s voice. “One involving a certain petticoat, I’d wager. Did she discover that you’d put guards on her?”

“Far worse than that.”

“Oh?”

“I intend to marry her.”

Stunned silence greeted that announcement and filled the room until the valet finished the last stroke of the blade over his chin and handed him a towel to wipe away whatever stray traces of lather still clung to his face. Then his man deposited the shaving implements onto a tray and excused himself from the room, leaving the two of them alone to talk privately.

Pearce leaned against the wall, his arms crossed casually over his chest. But there was nothing casual about the hard set of his face. “That’s an unexpected turn of events. What happened? Last I’d heard, you were dead set against marriage, especially with that one.”

“Well, you know how courtship goes. Flowers, gifts…” Marcus turned his head back and forth to check the closeness of the shave in the mirror and ran his hand over his face. “Being shot at in Vauxhall Gardens.”

Immediately concerned, Pearce pushed himself away from the wall. “Was she hurt?”

More than he wanted to admit as the memory of her tears pierced him. He shook his head. “Just a cut on her hand from taking a fall as we got away.” He bent over the basin on the washstand to splash cold water onto his face. He wished he could have rinsed away the guilt of putting her into danger as easily as he rinsed away the soap. “She found answers about Elise, and someone tried to kill her for it.”

As he dried his face with the towel, then pulled on the shirt the valet had left out on the bed, he explained the events of last night—heavily censoring all details related to what happened after they’d arrived at the armory. Not only wouldn’t Marcus share that with Pearce, he didn’t want to embarrass himself by thinking too much about how incredible it felt to have her in his arms, her body wrapped around his and mewling sounds of pleasure rising on her flushed lips. Even now, he wanted nothing more than to rush to her town house, strip off her clothes, and make love to her until she surrendered, until she agreed to stop putting herself in danger. Until she agreed to marry him.

First, though, he had to make certain that no one would ever try to harm her again.

“And you believe her?” Pearce pressed. “That the Earl of Hartsham was somehow involved with your sister’s death?”

Marcus had seen the look on Danielle’s face when the countess confessed about Elise. Her shock had been absolute. “I do.”

But a look wasn’t evidence of guilt. He had to prove the earl’s involvement, one way or the other. And if the man were guilty, not even those pot-bellied, self-serving, arrogant nodcocks in the Lords would be able to save him from hanging. Marcus would make certain of it.

“And where is Miss Williams now?”

Marcus rolled up his left sleeve. “At home.”

“I’ll ask Merritt to double her guard.”

“Thank you.” But even though he trusted Merritt and his men to keep her safe, posting guards was only a temporary solution. He needed to put a permanent end to this, and he’d do it by picking up the investigation right where she left off at Vauxhall. With the Earl of Hartsham.

“Are you in love with her?”

Marcus halted as he reached for his other sleeve. That was a damnably fine, if unexpected, question. One he had no intention of answering.

“I’m going to marry her,” he dodged, “just as soon as she agrees.”Ifshe agreed. He’d negotiated terms of engagement many times with opposing forces, but this time, he had a sinking feeling that he was on the wrong end of the sword.

“Well then, congratulations.” Pearce took a few steps away to perch on the arm of the settee, once more crossing his arms over his chest. But this time, the stare he leveled on Marcus held no amusement whatsoever. “But are you in love with the woman?”

“That’s none of your concern,” he answered firmly in that voice he’d used with subordinate officers when he didn’t want his orders to be questioned.

He fumbled with the sleeve as he rolled it up his forearm.Love… For God’s sake, how could he bring himself to love her when she insisted on placing herself in harm’s way? When he might lose her, too, just as he did Elise?