“What heart? You mean my frozen rock?” She put her cup down.
Benedict pressed his lips together and finished off the last of his tea.
“Allow me, Your Grace.” Augusta made to refill his cup.
Benedict felt the hairs behind his neck stand up. The simplicity with which she offered made him suspicious.
“No, please…” He made to reach for the teapot, but she had already picked it up.
She regarded him with a bored look, pouring his tea while he fidgeted. When she was done, she leaned back in her seat.
She didn’t do anything.
“Is there a problem, Your Grace?” The smile on her face said that she scared him on purpose.
Benedict cleared his throat, picking his cup again. “Not at all.”
A moment of silence passed between them and he watched her, admiring her immaculate poise. Her brown locks were swept up in a neat updo, and the soft pastel of her gown made her features more prominent.
She was such a picture of the perfect lady, that he was sure governesses frothed at the mouth from pleasure at how well she took to the teachings of propriety.
“Is there something on my face?” Her question made him realize he had been staring.
“Other than beauty, no.”
Augusta’s lips pulled back in disgust, and Benedict allowed himself to laugh. Even he had cringed at that line.
“I was just thinking about how you look like the perfect lady. In some ways, you act like one too, given how you accepted my invitation to dance back then only because it was proper,” he voiced his thoughts.
Augusta shrugged. “Iama lady, Your Grace.”
“Indeed, but not a perfect one by the standards of the ton. You care not for marriage, and you play a most dizzyingly horrifying pianoforte.”
“Ugh.” Augusta touched her forehead, no doubt remembering her performance against her will. “You have no intentions of allowing me to forget, do you?”
“Most certainly not. In fact, I would like to offer you lessons, if you would take them.” He lowered his voice for the next part. “After I win this bet and have you ready to join the marriage market again, it would be for the better if you had the skill.”
Augusta rolled her eyes. “My my, perhaps I ought to add your name to my list of rakes to pry off of unsuspecting women, Your Grace. To think you are courting me with the intentions of releasing me to the marriage market.”
Benedict blinked. “Was that not always the plan? I said I would change your mind about men and marriage.”
“For whom? So, you meant to show me how good men could be and then leave me to choose one that was not you?” Augusta’s brows were raised.
Benedict frowned. “Wait… did you think I bet to marry you?”
A beat of silence followed his words as they settled in both speaker and listener’s minds. Benedict’s eyes widened in regret at the same time a deep blush of shame and embarrassment blossomed on Augusta’s face.
“No, my lady, what I meant to say was…” Benedict tried to remedy the situation, but Augusta did not look like she was listening. He hadn’t meant it like that!
He had not even thought that far as to how his proposition with the bet could be construed. There was nothing worse than to be a gentleman who led a lady on with promise of marriage when he had no such intentions.
Oh no…I’ve messed up.
* * *
Augusta could feel her face flaming. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. The Duke was stumbling over his words, trying to lessen the blow, but the damage had already been done.
The main reason it felt so humiliating was because she did indeed assume that he meant to marry her if he succeeded in showing her how men could be good.
