April almost laughed. “High praise indeed.”
“You require protection.”
“Protection!” she repeated, scandalized.
“From fortune hunters and fools who cannot control a horse.”
April stared at him, aghast. “I am not a helpless child!”
“No,” he agreed, “but you are vulnerable.”
The words struck harder than she cared to admit. Vulnerable. She hated the truth of it. She hadn’t seen August in more than a month, and her father was only awake long enough to eat and take his medicines.Lord, be merciful to me.
“You presume much, Your Grace” she objected.
“I presume only what is necessary,” he replied, glancing at her. His eyes were a dark blue she had never seen before, and his jaw was so perfectly carved, his title was greatly befitting.
The carriage fell into silence again, save for the steady clatter of hooves. April sat stiffly, resisting the urge to drum her fingers or scream. She stole a glance at him from under her lashes. This man, this so-called Heartless Duke, had swept into her life like a storm, dismantling everything she thought she knew about her future.
Yet he remained utterly composed, his gaze fixed ahead.Heartless Duke, indeed.
Her thoughts moved to the lady who had once called upon her mother and had said, in no uncertain terms, that the Duke of Stone would not pity a fly, much less another human being.Is that truly so?
She forced herself to compose her features into what resembled a smile. “Shall I hazard a guess?” she asked lightly, though her voice trembled with something hotter than fear. “This marriage will only exist on paper. We shall be forced to make a show of it for the honeymoon then live entirely separate lives. And I expect you have a list of rules I must follow to the letter, or else the whole grand arrangement falls apart?”
The Duke turned his head slightly, one dark brow arching upward. He looked—blast him—mildly amused.
“So,” he said, “youhavespoken to your brother.”
April let out a short, humorless laugh. “Of course not. It appears he is far too occupied managing everyone else’s lives to remember he ought to inform his own sister when hers is being handed away.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves against the road. Then, without warning, he asked, “Were you hoping for a love match?”
April’s breath caught. She stared at him, caught off guard by the unexpected softness of the question. She shifted slightly, the words feeling strangely intimate between them.
“I—” she hesitated then forced herself to be honest. “I am realistic enough to know that such things are rare. I would have liked an amenable match. Someone kind. Someone who might, at least, pretend to care for me.”
“And I am not that?” he asked, his frown deepening as he watched the road.
April swallowed, her earlier anger ebbing into guilt. “I do not know,” she admitted, her voice small. “You are a stranger who informed me—with alarming efficiency—that I am to marry him.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “A fair point.”
She opened her mouth to reply when, suddenly, he leaned toward her. April stiffened instinctively, her heart lurching into a mad gallop. His scent hit her first—sandalwood, rich and clean, mixed with something darker and spiced like cinnamon. Her fingers curled into her skirts, bracing herself for—for what, she had no idea.
His hand reached past her shoulder, catching the trailing ribbon of her bonnet just as it slipped over the edge of the carriage.
He pulled back, the rescued bonnet in his gloved hand, his expression inscrutable. His dark brows furrowed as he studied her closely.
“You are flushed,” he observed.
April pressed her hands to her cheeks which were indeed burning. “It is—it is merely the wind,” she said defensively.
One thick brow lifted higher. He was clearly skeptical, but he said nothing more and merely turned his attention back to the road, his posture once again rigid.
April focused on breathing evenly, on keeping her heart from battering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The smell of him lingered in the air between them, impossible to ignore.
Moments later, the carriage rolled to a stop before the familiar façade of Wildmoore House. Without a word, he descended and came around to her side to offer his hand to her.
