Free My Lady Coward: An Episodic Regency Romance by Jaimey Grant

for…something.
    And then she saw it. It flashed through his dark eyes and she actually saw it. He was human after all, she thought with satisfaction. She saw a glimmer of uncertainty in his gaze.
    “I have one question, sir,” she said determinedly. “You have not mentioned whether you need an heir.”
    Derringer gave her a benign look. “I will eventually. I see no reason to force you to do anything you find distasteful,” he added dryly.
    She blushed. “I did not mean to imply that I find you distasteful, sir,” she replied, thinking quite the opposite. “I merely wondered if you wanted a true marriage or one in name only. You do not know me after all and I would be very much surprised should you find me in the least attractive.”
    She met his gaze squarely and had not the least bit of self-pity on her round face. She appeared…accepting.
    “Truly?” was all Derringer drawled in reply to her self-deprecating comment. He could have told her that there was something about her that attracted him like a fly to honey. He remained silent on that score and allowed her to think what she would. “Are you accepting my proposal, then?”
    Leandra took a deep breath. “Yes.”
    Springs tapped on the door, not allowing the duke any time to actually be surprised at her relatively easy capitulation. He snapped distractedly at the landlord to enter.
    The slimy little man bowed low and said obsequiously, “The blacksmith is ‘ere, yer grace. Shall I send ‘im in?”
    “No, I will take him to my curricle myself in a moment. Leave.” The man was gone before the command had fully left Derringer’s mouth.
    “Your grace?” Leandra whispered. “Oh, dear God.”
    “Did I not mention I hold a dukedom?” he asked far too innocently.
    “No,” Leandra breathed, feeling just a trifle put out and more than a little unsure of herself. “I’m sure the fact just slipped your mind, your grace .”
    “Do not be a shrew,” Derringer remarked, his own nerves frayed to the breaking point from his hectic day. He stood to take his leave.
    She inhaled, the movement swelling her chest and drawing his grace’s eye to her not insignificant bosom. Ignoring his ungentlemanly reaction, she asked, “Which dukedom do you hold?”
    “Derringer.”
    He stared at her as if expecting some sort of reaction but all she could do was stare back. She’d never heard of the Duke of Derringer.
    He straightened, his fingers tightening around his black gloves. “My mother’s cousin is a bishop. I’ll see him tonight about a special license. We’ll marry tomorrow.”
    He was a wee bit irked that she didn’t seem to know who he was. Everyone knew of the Duke of Derringer. He was infamous and feared throughout the kingdom. Where had she been that she’d not even made the connection that he was Lord Heartless?
    “Tonight? Tomorrow?” she sputtered. “How is that possible?”
    “I have to marry by the twenty-ninth, my dear. We will marry tomorrow just to make sure everything is legal and legitimate. And cousin Horace has been after me to marry this age so getting the license will not be difficult to obtain. I am a duke with connections, after all.”
    “Oh,” she said in a small voice. She stiffened her spine. “Very well, your grace. We shall marry tomorrow.”
    “Good. I’ll arrange a room for you tonight. We’ll marry from here and I will escort you to the Crescent after the wedding.” He walked to the door and turned the knob. Then he paused and turned back to the young woman at the table.
    “By the way, what is your name?”

     
    Heartless
     
    Available at the following links:
    US:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B001IZZ2RC
    UK:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B001IZZ2RC