“Oh!” She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“Let us start over, shall we? I will endeavor not to irritate you if you will do the same for me.”
She nodded. “I can see no fault in such an arrangement.”
“Good,” he said, flashing his teeth at her. “Now, if one of us doesn’t go back inside, I am afraid your reputation will be hopelessly tarnished.”
“B-but it’s a house party, and I have seen people strolling through the garden.”
“Yes,” he said. “But I am the Duke of Pridegate, a lord of hedonism as the scandal sheets call me. You are but a young lady, and entirely unsafe with me.”
“I think you enjoy being the cause of such gossip.”
He shrugged. “It matters little what I think. The public has deemed me a menace where innocent debutantes are concerned.”
“I am no debutante.”
His gaze wandered languidly over her. “No, you are a bluestocking.”
“A designation I proudly accept!” She stood, clearly offended. “Does a woman of intelligence make you uncomfortable, Your Grace?”
“No,” he growled, her pride a point of contention and the cause of the painful erection plaguing him. “But it does make my pantaloons fit a bit tighter.”
His lips eased into a wicked smile, for he had meant to jolt her, to give her reason to run away before he took her in his arms and kissed her silly.
“You…”
“Yes?” He waited for her to finish her thought as she bolted out of the gazebo and onto the footpath leading back to the townhouse.
“Go back to France. Or Italy. Wherever creatures such as yourself are given leave to act as reprehensibly as you have tonight.”
He regretted the way he had treated her, but such untoward behavior was necessary sometimes to safeguard his sanity and plans for the future.
Chapter Nine
Six days later…
The small bookshoplocated on St. James’s was surprisingly busy for a Wednesday afternoon. Alonzo should know, for he had been watching it since this morning, curious about the life Lady Julia lived. He had attempted to forget her the night she fled the garden, having been so easily offended by his vulgar yet honest words about what she did to his body, though unintentionally. That much he knew about her. She had an unusual aversion for men of thehaute ton. Almost hatred from what had been described to him by close friends—gentlemen who had offered for her but been promptly dismissed on the grounds of their titles and wealth.
Madness ran in some families, especially the ancient lines of Britain where families intermarried for centuries. And Lady Julia’s kin could boast being one of those old and respected original bloodlines.
“Well?” the Earl of Ganes disrupted his thoughts. “What is the point of standing here all day if you do not intend on going inside that shop?” He took out his gold pocket watch and sighed as if inconvenienced by the duke’s dilemma. “What could she possibly say about you?”
Alonzo shrugged. “Under any other circumstances I would not give a damn. But there’s something about Julia Castle that has stayed with me from the moment I laid eyes on her.”
Graham chuckled. “Lust.”
Alonzo could not deny it, and a smile crept across his face. “Something far more important than that base feeling.”
“She’s a duke’s daughter and you, my friend, are a duke. Seems to be a natural attraction, an intelligent match. Go inside, declare your intentions to speak with the lady’s sire, and get on with it.”
Alonzo’s expression sobered. “I never mentioned marriage.”
“Why else should we stalk her every movement?”
“I owe her an apology, nothing more.”
“Christ.” The earl raked his fingers through his hair. “Did something happen before you came home? Perhaps a blow to the head?”
