She bit her lip, then ventured, “How do you spend your free time?”
“Shooting.”
April raised a brow. “What kind of shooting?”
“Archery.”
“Do you hunt?”
“I dislike it.”
April paused, grappling for the next question. “Is your manor truly as grim as people claim?” She was no longer in control of her words, and she did that when nervous.
His brow lifted slightly. “You should see it yourself before judging.”
Infuriating man.
“You are making this dreadfully difficult, Your Grace.”
“Am I?” he asked, pressing his lips slightly as though genuinely considering it.
“You answer every question with the least possible effort,” she accused.
“Yet I answer,” he argued, a glint of amusement in his eyes.
April held back the urge to huff. “What books do you read?”
“Histories.”
“Music you prefer?”
“None.”
“Favorite pastime?”
“Riding.”
She exhaled. “Are you trying to vex me, Your Grace?”
“Not deliberately,” he said, though his mouth twitched as if he found her frustration diverting.
His hand at her waist shifted slightly, drawing her imperceptibly closer. April’s breath caught. “You are very persistent,” he murmured, his breath brushing her ear.
April tilted her head boldly, ignoring the wild thrum of her pulse. “Perhaps I am.”
His gaze pinned her in place. “I am tempted to feel worried.”
April smiled up at him, schooling her expression to be bright and daring. “Perhaps you should, Your Grace.”
Four
“Drink your medicine, April,” her mother said, bustling about the bedchamber like a general preparing for battle. “The sooner you are better, the sooner you can attend the assemblies and find a husband.”
April coughed weakly into her handkerchief. “Of course, Mama,” she said between exaggerated wheezes. “I shall take every last drop.”
Dorothy, Duchess of Wildmoore, flitted to the window and drew the curtains back an inch before letting them fall again with a snap. “You must not miss another opportunity, April. Every day in bed is a day lost!”
“I am terribly distressed,” April said, trying not to smile.
