Heavens, he was handsome. He did not often smile, but he’d given me several tonight, and they lit up his face. I hadn’t noticed the dimple in his left cheek until this moment. It begged my attention.
“He is the only good thing I’ve had these past many months.”
A clock on the mantel chimed. The house was otherwise completely still. Painfully quiet. I looked toward the empty doorway. I should leave him. What if someone found us here? Duke or not, the last thing I needed wasmorerumors andmorereasons for his mother to be upset with me.
“Tell me the story,” he said, quiet.
I blinked and turned my book over in my hands, tracing the golden lettering on the leather binding. “Udolpho?”
His brows furrowed, half covered by a wave of thick, rowdy curls. “No. Tell me what happened that night. What you did to lose theton’s favor, in your own words. I want to hear it.”
That night ... with Ronald? “You want to know why I ...”Kissed him?
“Yes.” He turned in his seat, angling his body toward mine. He rested the left side of his face against the back of his seat, his long legs loosely crossing. He waited with measured confidence, like a man who needed only ask, and I’d respond exactly to his desire.
Mine wasn’t a story I wanted to continually repeat. And it certainly wasn’t mandatory to our contract.
“Why?” Why did he carenow?
He looked around, shaking his head, then shrugged. “I am curious.”
I didn’t like that answer. And in truth, I did notwanthim to hear the whole of it. I wanted to keep some measure of control between us, and if he knew everything—how foolish I’d been, how I’d thought myself in love only to be rejected in the most public and humiliating way—he’d think less of me. I found I did not like that either.
“No.”
“No?” He started to laugh, then grasped his empty glass from the table, looking down at the last few drops of amber liquid swirling at the base. I wondered if the duke had anyrealfriends. He did not seem to know how to treat one, pretend or otherwise. “You won’t tell me.”
I stared hard at him. “I do not think you truly care. I think you wish to belittle me.”
He set down the glass firmly, meeting my gaze just as unyieldingly. “Did you try to ensnare him? Sir Ronald.”
Hearing that name aloud didn’t hurt like it used to. I felt regret, but not affection. Not since I’d seen him with his new wife and how different he was with her. Perhaps how he’d been all along, but I’d been too blinded by my own false hopes to see it.
In truth, it was embarrassment that kept me from revealing myself to the duke. And I had already embarrassed myself enough tonight. Sitting in his chair in stockinged feet, spouting off about lying in the hay with a barn cat. I could not abide him laughing at me again. I had enough regrets. I wondered if he felt any at all after whathe’ddone. His admission was far worse than mine would be.
Hehadadmitted to it, hadn’t he? More, he’d faced Mrs. Winston and her husband head-on. I supposed, like it or not, I owed him the truth. Then we’d be square.
I huffed out a little breath and looked down at my hands as I spoke. “Sir Ronald is my brother’s closest friend. When I debuted in London, I was certain he’d court me. He needed money, and we had enough to share. My brother said to be patient. But that is a virtue I have had to learn the hard way.”
I felt the duke’s unrelenting gaze, saw his hand grasping the armrest of his chair. He said nothing, only listened.
“I should have seen sense much earlier ... the way he looked ather, the way he attendedher, even the way hespoketo her was different than with anyone else. But I was so blinded by this future I’d planned in my head, so certain that he’d see it too, if only he’d give it a chance.
“We were dancing that night, and I stopped in the middle of the room. He thought something was wrong and cradled my arms to keep me upright. And I made the decision in an instant—I’d force his hand. I’dmakehim see the future I saw. So, I kissed him.”
The duke’s brows raised. “Bold.”
“Foolish,” I disagreed. “I shall never forget the look on his face when he pulled back. It was utter betrayal. I had shocked and disgusted him. And he hated me instantly. I never want to see that look on someone’s face, not ever again.”
The most painful part of recalling the truth was admitting rejection. That I hadn’t been good enough. That something had beenwrongwith me. Something that invited people to take a critical look.
I supposed Marlow could understand that feeling too,having been rejected by Miss Newbury. Worse, really, becausehewas a duke and what sort of woman rejected a duke as wealthy and secure and, dare I say, handsome, as he? We both had made grand mistakes. We both had tried to force the other’s hand.
“Perhaps a conversation would have been the better choice,” he said, standing with glass in hand. He strode back over to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle.
I watched his careful movements. “You don’t say,” I muttered.
The duke glanced over his shoulder with a half smile on his lips as he poured. “Leveled by thetonfor it.” He started to laugh as he turned round, lifting the glass to his lips. “I hope it was a deuced good kiss.”
