Hiding an inner rawness, he brushed a curl from her cheek. He ought to say something romantic and charming, something that would capture her heart, but all that came out of his mouth was the unvarnished truth. “I suspect I haven’t yet won your favor.”

A naked goddess, she sat up against the pillows. “Oh, but this was marvelous, Hadrian. I haven’t any regrets.”

“That isn’t what I meant. You still don’t want to share my bed for the rest of our lives.”

Natalie parted her lips so swiftly, with such a look of yearning, that he had a searing flash of hope she would prove him wrong. Then her eyebrows drew together in a look of tender remorse and she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I—I just don’t see how a marriage between us can work. We come from different worlds. Your life is in England, and mine is in America.”

“Don’t make a final decision just yet,” he urged, cupping her face. “Give me a chance to court you properly, to convince you to be my wife—and a mother to Leo. We can have children of our own, a nursery full of them.”

Her eyes softened with longing, even as her lips firmed with denial. “But I’d have to become an English duchess. Please try to understand. I love the country of my birth. I love that America was founded on freedom and equality. I don’t know if I could ever fit into your class system.”

He set his jaw. “Society will accept you. I’ll make certain they do.”

Smiling wistfully, she shook her head in gentle exasperation. “You have it all wrong, Hadrian. It isn’t whether English society will accept me. It’s whether I will accept English society.”

Chapter 24

Two weeks later, on the evening of the ball, Natalie sat at the mirrored table in her dressing room while Hetty pinned up her dark brown locks into a collection of lustrous curls. On the duchess’s urging, Natalie had spent the afternoon primping, starting with a decadently hot bath in a large copper tub, then drying her hair by the fire, applying scented lotions, and having her nails trimmed and buffed. She had thoroughly enjoyed all the pampering.

This could be her life forever, she thought with a pang. She distracted herself with the stern reminder that it was unfair for a few lucky women to live in the lap of luxury while others had to labor for a living.

She studied the maid’s placid features, guessing her to be in her mid-thirties. “Do you mind having to do all this work on my behalf?”

“Mind?” Hetty looked astonished at the question. “Why, never, miss! It’s a pleasure to serve a lady so lovely as yourself.”

“But surely you’ve wished that you could go to such a ball as this.”

The maid chortled. “Me dad’s a cobbler, and he’d hoot at such a notion! Nay, I’m blessed to be an upstairs maid in this grand house after starting as a lowly tweeny. Now, it’s time to don your gown.”