A devilish smile curved her lips. ‘I do not think His Grace would make a good husband at all, Lady Elizabeth. He is brutish, commanding, and altogether stubborn.’ She took a slow sip of her tea before adding smugly, ‘Until he can address these issues, it is best he avoid female company altogether.’
She met the Duke’s gaze, challenging him.
He arched a brow. Challenge accepted.
‘Miss Skye would have you believe that I am not fit for polite society. If that were the case, then pray, may I ask why the ladies of society hound me?’
Lady Elizabeth chuckled. ‘I have to agree with Miss Skye, Gabriel. You are stubborn.’
‘The ladies are charmed by your title, Your Grace—not you.’
‘Oh? And how do you propose I find a wife who loves me for who I am, rather than my title?’
‘That is simple,’ Grace said sweetly. ‘Disguise yourself as an untitled, impoverished gentleman. Work on your character and personality—I am sure you will find a woman who desires you rather than your title.’
Mrs Merriweather, a little tipsy from too much sherry, burst into laughter. ‘Capital idea, Miss Grace, simply capital.’ She reached for another glass, but Grace swiftly swapped it for a biscuit.
Lady Elizabeth clapped her hands. ‘I love it, Gabriel. You should do it! Miss Skye can assist you in this experiment.’
The Duke smirked. ‘And if I did as you describe, how would I determine whether she is loyal and faithful?’
Grace nearly leapt from her chair at his hypocrisy. He had the audacity to question a woman’s loyalty after what he had done?
She forced a saccharine smile. ‘That is quite simple, Your Grace. Observe how she treats those she loves. That will reveal her heart.’
For a fleeting moment, she saw it—the flicker of recognition in his gaze. He knew she was speaking of Skye Manor. Of their evenings together.
‘Perhaps a game of chess would determine if she is intelligent as well?’ the Duke mused.
Lady Elizabeth smacked her forehead. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! What does intelligence have to do with marriage? It is about the heart, Gabriel!’
‘Would you not agree that I should be able to hold a conversation with my wife? She would be my lifelong companion, after all,’ he countered. ‘She should be well-read. Humour is a must. And beauty...’
His eyes flicked toward Grace.
Lady Elizabeth threw her hands up. ‘Now he is speaking of marrying a jester! Miss Skye, do help me.’
Grace barely held in her laughter. ‘I cannot help a lost cause, Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps a physician of the mind would be better suited.’ She turned to the Duke. ‘Your standards are impossibly high. It will be difficult to find such a creature.’
The Duke leaned back in his chair, a slow, knowing smile on his lips. ‘Perhaps I will not need to search. Perhaps she will simply appear before me.’
Grace scoffed. ‘You may as well wait for fairies and leprechauns. And even if you did find her, what makes you think she would want you? She might find you boorish.’
Lady Elizabeth giggled. ‘Finally, someone who puts him in his place.’ Then seeing her brother’s fallen face, she declared, ‘But I must come to my brother’s rescue—Gabriel would make a good husband!’
‘Would he indeed? How so?’ Grace countered. ‘A reluctance towards the institution of marriage disproves your statement from the outset.’
Lady Elizabeth faltered. ‘I... I believe you are right.’ She glanced at her brother, looking embarrassed on his behalf.
‘I am not averse to marriage entirely—now,’ Lord Armitage defended himself. ‘Should I find the right lady. But how will I know if she is my soulmate?’
‘When you feel a sense of tranquillity and calm when you are together,’ Grace said seriously.
‘Bravo, Miss Skye! A very good answer. I am impressed,’ Lady Elizabeth said approvingly.
The tipsy Mrs Merriweather hiccupped. ‘Grace was always such a loving and sweet child—and wise beyond her years. Ask anyone, they will tell you!’ she ended in a loud whisper.
‘Thank you, Mrs M. Now please eat your biscuits,’ Grace said, pushing the plate towards her. Under her breath, she muttered, ‘It will soak up that sherry.’
