Page 75 of An Inconvenient Duke

He countered, “You can’t help them from your grave either.”

“That won’t happen.” She blinked rapidly, and damn the tears that threatened at her lashes!

“You can’t be certain of that unless you stop the vanishings.” When she pulled out of his embrace and walked away, he pursued her. “I want to marry you, Danielle. I want to be the devoted husband you deserve.” He took her shoulders and turned her to face him. “And I want you by my side when I carve out a new future for myself, whatever it will be. You’re the only woman who can be that support for me, the only one who has the confidence to stand with me and the spine to stand uptome.”

His tempting words engulfed her. How easy it would be to give in! With a single word of agreement to have the future she’d always wanted, to lift the burden of Nightingale from her shoulders…and with that word put her own selfish desires before the needs of women who lived every hour in fear for their lives.

Her heart was rending itself in two.

“We can’t have that if you’re risking your life with Nightingale. I won’t live like that, in constant worry that you’ll be harmed. Or worse.” He cupped her face between his hands. With an anguished, tortured expression, he squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head to rest his forehead against hers. “Having to bury you in the ground, to mourn at your grave site…” His voice was nothing more than a hoarse rasp. His mouth was so close to hers that his warm breath fanned achingly over her cheeks, so close that his lips brushed faintly against hers with each word he murmured. “Dear God…it would end me.”

When he leaned in to kiss her, worry and fear flavored his kiss. Dear heavens, so strong that she could taste it! Guilt and desolation swept fiercely through her, and she shuddered within his arms, for once taking no solace in his strength.

“Marry me, Danielle,” he murmured. “I promise that I will keep you safe. Always.”

But at what cost?

So many women, all of them needing to be saved in one way or another. Women all over England with no place to go, no one to turn to for help…except her.

She’d die before she abandoned them.

“I can’t give up Nightingale, Marcus,” she choked out. “I won’t.” All her dreams of a future with him disappeared as a single tear escaped down her cheek. She pressed her fist against her chest to physically fight down the wretched anguish that consumed her as she admitted, barely loud enough to be a whisper—“Not even for you.”

Twenty-Three

Two Unbearable Days Later

Dani stopped pacing to stare out her bedroom window at the puddle-drenched street below, but she saw nothing through the drizzling rain except Marcus’s face.

But then, hadn’t she seen only that since she’d refused to marry him? Even here, safe within her home, she couldn’t escape him, not when his image played constantly before her eyes.

She’d sleepwalked through the last two days…not eating, not sleeping, yet somehow managing not to break down in tears. When Harriett returned this morning from her trip to Brighton, Dani had managed to smile through a brief welcome before feigning a headache and spending the rest of her day alone in her room, staring out the window when she wasn’t fretfully pacing the floor. The men were out there somewhere, unseen, guarding her and the house, keeping her safe…and making her wonder if she could find one of them and convince the man to tell her how Marcus was, if he was just as miserable as she was or if he had given up on her and moved on.

Stopping her pacing before she wore the rug threadbare, she sank onto her reading chair, clutching the throw pillow to her chest. She’d had not one word from Marcus since she’d left Charlton Place, somehow even then keeping the tears from falling, if only to save her foolish pride.

But she’d heard almost incessantly from Beatrice, hounding her to know whether Nightingale would rescue the girl. She didn’t want to think about the girl and her plight, but every message the countess sent only served to remind her of the choice she’d been forced to make…women who needed her or the love of her life.

The anger and anguish inside her burned like fire. He loved her… How many years had she dreamt about hearing those words from him, of him loving her and wanting to marry her?

But what he was asking of her in exchange—

Ashes!

Claudia’s words about her brother the night of the dinner rushed back to her. That he was lost, that his new life in London lacked meaning and he needed important activities to fill his life…

He needs to be rescued from himself.But how did she save a man who didn’t want to be saved? Who fought her every step of the way, even in this, something she held so dear—

“Damn you.” The desolate whisper tore from her, and the burning tears she’d been holding back for two days finally squeezed from her closed eyes. “Damn you, Marcus Braddock…”For making me love you. For making me want you, now and for the rest of my life.For making me have to choose…

Overwhelming longing to be with him quivered inside her. Not only a physical yearning, but also the desire to simply be near him. Quiet conversations in front of the fire punctuated by challenging debates, strolls through the park, nights at the opera…nights spent just lying in his arms, warm and happy, as she drifted off to sleep.

God help her, she wanted a life with him.Cravedit with every ounce of her being.

But not at the price he required of her.

“Damn you, Marcus Braddock!” She angrily flung the pillow as hard as she could.

Hurtling across the room, the pillow hit the wall above the fireplace, fell down, and smacked the mantel. It caught the corner of the music box and tumbled it off the shelf. When the box hit the marble hearth, it shattered with a loud crash. Metal parts flew in every direction across the floor, and the wooden lid splintered into pieces.