“Magic isn’t real.”
“I know that.” He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. “Now I can go back to normal.”
Normally, you don’t talk to me,was on the tip of Carole’s tongue. She welcomed this burst of abnormality. Or was it? Which version was the real Azureford?
She tilted her head to consider him. Logic dictated that things were often exactly as they seemed,ifone knew how and where to look. It was a matter of simplifying the extraneous and following the pattern to its core.
Fact: At his party, the host hadn’t spoken a single word to her.
Fact: At his party, Azureford hadn’t spoken to anyone.
Fact: When she’d burst back into his life unexpectedly, he’d been flustered—but he’d spoken to her.
Fact: They’d teased each other about magic. Teased, as in jokes. Like friends.
Fact: Despite her flimsy story and even feebler claim of masterful library cataloguing skills, Azureford had handed her a blank journal and welcomed her to stay.
Conclusion: The Duke of Azureford wasn’t an arrogant, disdainful prig.
He wasshy.
“You hate small talk,” she said in wonder.
“I like small talk,” he protested despite the immediate flash of panic in his brown eyes.
She couldn’t believe one of the most powerful men in England was intimidated by something as innocuous as conversation. His party must have been hell on earth to him.
“Did the fortuneteller advise you to give away your library for some reason?”
He shook his head. “I’m putting in a billiard room.”
Her mouth fell open. She had not seenthatexplanation coming. “You’re swapping books for billiards?”
“Books are something you read by yourself.” His gaze seemed far away. “Billiards are something that must be played with others.”
Oughtto be played with others, she mentally corrected. She’d long ago perfected the art of the one-person billiard tournament.
“Who are you hoping to play with?” she asked with interest.
“Everyone,” he said shyly. “It’s a game men and women can play. Since the game is so fast and there’s only two players at a time, everyone will have to pay attention and rotate turns and…”
“…and speak to each other?” she finished. It wasn’t a bad plan.
He nodded.
She could not help but like him for it. “Your goal is to make friends with… villagers?”
“My goal is… London.” He set his jaw. “If I can do this here, then I can do it there.”
“At the House of Lords?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
“In themarriage mart,” she said in realization. “Of course. A man in possession of a fine billiard room is undoubtedly in want of a wife.”
He didn’t argue.
That settled it.
