A curious smile creased the duke’s lips. “I do approve of you, Westcliffe.”
Alasdair frowned.
“I know you to be an honorable man. Lord Liverpool and many others have spoken of your heroism in the war and how you fought for the lives of your men. I only needed to be sure you felt affection for my daughter, and you had not deliberately compromised her, thinking she possessed a dowry. I grant you permission to wed my daughter if she will have you.”
Alasdair inclined his head. “Thank you.” He turned to walk away, but Milton’s next words froze him.
“If Willow accepts you I will provide her dowry.”
Alasdair glanced back at the duke, taking his measure. “No.”
Milton stiffened in surprise. “Do not be hasty, Westcliffe.”
His hands on the doorknob, he spoke, “While it would be a relief, I will not have Willow believing I am marrying her for what she brings to my pocket. I already face the insurmountable odds of convincing her she will never be a burden to me. I have made several investments my banker and solicitors predict will be successful. If they are right, in a few months’ time, Willow’s dowry will be negligible.”
“And if your predictions are wrong?” The duke snapped.
“I am the Marquess of Westcliffe. I have enough merchants and investors clamoring to work with me, for me to believe we’ll survive even if my prophesy is incorrect. And if by some miracle it isn’t…that is a risk I am willing to take,” Alasdair said quietly, then walked through the door.
The only challenge he now faced was to convince Willow of his love.
Chapter 8
The sounds from the music room were hauntingly beautiful. Fingers rippled over the keyboard of the pianoforte with unsurpassed skill. He opened the door quietly, and from the way Willow’s spine stiffened, Alasdair knew she realized he had entered the room.
After his meeting with the duke, he had sought her presence. Her grandmother had bidden him to wait in the drawing room, but he was pulled against his will toward the rousing sounds. Somehow, he had known it was Willow who played. She had been a good pianist when he knew her, but now she was brilliant.
The song ended. She gently closed the lid of the pianoforte and came to her feet gracefully. She looked ravishing with her hair piled high on her head, the loose tendril hiding the slight scar at her left temple. Willow was dressed in a high- waisted, bright yellow gown, her naked toes peeking from beneath the hem of her dress and petticoats. He smiled at that bit of unladylike appearance.
“You came.”
He stepped further into the room. “Did you doubt I would?”
“No, I feared you would.”
She walked toward him. “Let us retire to the drawing room. I am sure grandmother has ordered refreshments as she is no doubt in raptures over these dreadful developments.”
He shifted to the side and watched with a feeling of admiration as she opened the door, walked precisely several paces down the foyer, and then turned right. There was no hesitation when her hand turned the knob, and he strolled behind her into the parlor.
She kept her back turned to him, and he could see the fine trembling in her frame. “Willow, I—”
She spun to face him. Her face was placid, her eyes wide. “Did you pursue me for my fortune?” she demanded, jutting her small chin high.
“Willow, I—”
She held up her hand and looked directly at him, her eyes as piercing as arrows. “It is a simple question, my lord. It can be answered with a yes or no.”
His gut knotted. “No.”
She closed her eyes and relief chased her features. He wanted to gather her in his arms and whisper reassurance. But what would he say? That he was never pursuing her? That he had been lost in her beauty, her wit, her resilience, and because of his lack of control, they had been caught in a compromising position?
“Are you impoverished?”
He would only give her truth. “Yes.”
She backed away, the color draining from her face. Moving without any mishap, she walked to the sofa and sank into its depth. He was impressed when she reached for the tea trolley, her movements smooth and without hesitation, and poured them tea. Her finger remained gently curled over the tip of the cup as if to feel for the heat of the water as it rose. She prepared tea and cake as elegantly as any lady in her waiting room.
“Please join me for some refreshment,” she said coolly and waved her hand to the sofa in front of her.