Prim’s jaw tightened once more. This day has really tested the endurance of her teeth, seeing that she clenched them more often than not.
That rakish brute. What kind of a man is he, living in total sin, women coming and going freely as if this is some kind of immoral turnstile?
The house was the epitome of elegant opulence with marble floors, golden scones, and adorned pillars, a fact that somehow managed to anger her even more. She painted the picture of a man who probably read the gossip sheet over breakfast and laughed, while indulging himself on some rare delicacy. And then forgot totally about it.
For a man like him, this would be nothing more than a trifle, while her reputation laid in ruins and her sisters’ debut hang by a thread. No wonder he didn’t call upon her.
“This is his Grace’s study,” the butler announced and pointed and the half-opened door.
And then bowed and left. Without even a flicker of concern for an unchaperoned young lady in the dead of night at the threshold of a gentleman’s private rooms. Prim stared at the butler’s retreating back, her mouth parting in incredulity. Was it expected of her to simply march inside? Alone? Unannounced? Was propriety optional in Mildenhall on Tuesdays?
Well, fine! She pushed to door open and stepped inside. She didn’t have to look for the Duke. He dominated the room withhis presence and sheer size. Prim had one single moment to take in the man whom the sheets claimed called her “my rose”.
He was standing at the massive fireplace, one hand on the mantle, the other holding a letter between long, delicate fingers. He was wearing his shirt, breeches, and boots. Said shirt was rolled up, allowing two strong, veiny arms to show, catching the fire with carved precision. No cravat meant a scandalously revealed collarbone that finally let her jaw loosen a little. His hair was mussed, as if his fingers had travelled through it many times.
She had no other chance to take in anything more because her presence was noticed, and the Duke turned and looked at her. Yes, most definitely, dentistry would be added to Prim’s long list of problems.
She bit down hard when her brown eyes collided with his deep blue ones. She would of course vehemently deny it if asked directly, but she has never seen that shade of blue anywhere in nature.
“Good evening,” he said, throwing the letter in the fire. “May I help you?”
His eyes swept over her, quick, effective, assessing, as if she were a new puzzle to be solved.
“You never came,” she said coldly.
“This accusation might require further information so blame can be allocated.”
“You didn’t call upon me today.”
The Duke turned to her fully, and Prim thanked herself that they were confined in a rather civilized setting. Out in the open, she would have run for her life.
“I am terribly sorry, but I wasn’t aware I had tied myself in such an obligation. It would have made things easier if I knew who you were.”
Fury rose in her. She was right, of course. That man didn’t even know or care who she was. To him, she might as well have been some love-stricken admirer who threw caution to the wind just to look upon his collarbones.
“I am Primrose Jenkins,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
The Duke frowned for a moment, then raised his chin in realization. He had read the sheet. He knew. And yet…
“Miss P.J.,” he confirmed.
“Propriety and good manners dictated that you were to call upon me today. But it seems that the Duke of Mildenhall and his estate lack both.”
Her tone was sharp enough to draw blood, yet the only thing it drew was a faint smirk from him. His look remained amused in that infuriating way that tempted her to slap him. But Prim saw it. His blue eyes went a dark shade of midnight and hooded. A predator was prowling in this study, and there was no other prey but her.
Prim realized the jeopardy she was in. This was not like the other lords of the ton, the soft-spoken, well-mannered men that were taught to either disregard, respect, or fear women. This man feared nothing.
Her feet moved on pure instinct and took a step back purely on survival instinct. Her gut screamed at her to run. Her mind had more resilience.
“So, Miss P.J.,” he said lightly, though the air was tightening around them, “did propriety and good manners guide you alone into my study in the middle of the night?”
“No,” she shot back, “but necessity did.”
He detached himself from the fireplace with an unhurried grace and stepped toward her.An intimidation tactic,Prim clung to dignity. Her heart, unforgivably, did not.
“Do you find yourself often in gentlemen’s studies out of… necessity?”
“I am not proficient in how to handle a scandal,” she said tightly. “Perhaps your extensive expertise could offer the right course of action.”
