“You shall find out after we are married.”
His gaze pinned her, and though her expression didn’t shift, her pulse quickened. He was always testing. Always trying to see what lay beneath.
“I can procure a special license,” he said. “We could be married in days, not weeks. Then I won’t have to wait to find out.”
April lifted her cup and took a sip. “Ambitious of you.”
He said nothing in response to that—which somehow said more. She lifted her teacup to her lips and took a slow sip, all in a poor effort to keep herself occupied.
“You mentioned in your letter,” he said after a moment, “that this would be a marriage in name only.”
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Unless, of course, you intend to demand heirs from me.”
His eyes held hers. Too still. “Would you give them if I did?”
She laughed, a soft and airy thing that didn’t quite reach her chest. “I don’t believe you would demand them.”
She leaned in slightly, the same way she might with a stranger at a dull dinner party. “You’re far too proper to make demands of your wife. You’d more likely submit a written request. Signed and sealed. Perhaps even witnessed.”
“And you’d make me wait a fortnight before granting it,” he said, and this time there was the faintest shift in his eyes. Not humor, exactly. Something closer to curiosity.
She said nothing, but her silence was purposeful. That she could use too. April was learning from him, and perhaps that would give her an advantage in this marriage.
He finally picked up the cup, took a sip, and set it back down without comment. Then he reached for a biscuit, dunked it in the tea, and took a bite.
“This,” he said calmly, “is how I always had it.”
April, curious despite herself, took a biscuit of her own and mimicked the gesture. She chewed slowly, eyes on him over the rim of her cup.
“You’re full of surprises, Your Grace.”
“It’s well guarded information,” he replied. “I’ll expect you to keep it to yourself.”
“For the right bribe, perhaps.”
“What would it take?”
She tilted her head, still smiling, though it felt like holding a fan too long. “That depends. How desperate are you to protect your fearsome reputation?”
Theodore refused to answer which was not surprising. April turned her attention back to her tea. The biscuit softened on her tongue, the tea warmer than she’d expected. She hated that it comforted her. She wasn’t here to be comforted.
“Shall I walk you home?” he asked as she set down her cup after the last sip.
She blinked. “You wish to?”
“Everyone knows we’re engaged,” he pointed out, dry as dust. But beneath the words was something else—not quite an invitation, not quite expectation.
“We may as well give them what they want to see—a besotted duke and his fair lady.”
She gave a bright smile, practiced to perfection. “Fair lady, am I?”
“In the eyes of theton, certainly.”
“And in yours?”
“I’ve said enough for one afternoon, April.”
Taking a breath, April stood and ran a hand down her skirts as though the motion might smooth her nerves. “Then yes. Walk me home, Your Grace. Let’s give them a show.”
