“As she should be; any mother would be delighted to have me as her son-in-law.” The Duke’s tone was light, teasing.
Charlotte replied sweetly, “But not any woman would delight to have you for a husband.”
“I am told many would like such a thing.” His hazel eyes sparkled, and Charlotte blushed more deeply.
I must not get distracted.She looked away from him. “Neither you nor I even want to be married. Or must I remind you of that fact?”
“Would it truly be so terrible to be married?” He stepped in front of her, walking backwards and forcing her to look at him.
“Yes. This engagement is not even real, and the last thing we need is for this sham to become shackles that tie us both together in perpetuity.” Charlotte continued to walk, trying subtly to move past him.
“You say that as though it is the worst thing imaginable.” The Duke stopped and fell into stop behind her, and Charlotte caught a note of something in his voice: annoyance.
“It is. Marriage is awful, and I have no intention of ever getting married. Especially to you.” Charlotte shuddered.
“What exactly do you mean? Especially to me?” The Duke stopped walking, frowning at her.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Why on Earth would I want to be married to you?”
“My dashing good looks? My rapier sharp wit? My charm and good humour?” The Duke grinned.
“And let us not forget your humility,” she added sarcastically.
“How could we forget that?” He swept her an overly dramatic bow.
“It beggars belief,” Charlotte said flatly, refusing to be taken in by his act.
“You see, you might enjoy being married to me. Look, what a sparkling conversation we are having already!” Duke Verimore gestured between the two of them.
“Yes, so witty it is a wonder I do not already fall at your feet.” Her voice was coolly detached as she smiled daggers at the man.
“Do not worry, I would catch you.” He winked.
Charlotte felt her cheeks redden once more but refused to give in and instead replied as nonchalantly as she could, “Do you use that line with every woman you encounter?”
“Only the very lucky ones.”
“And this is why I would never marry someone like you.” Charlotte threw her hands up and began to walk away from the Duke.
He caught up to her in one stride, his brow furrowed as he asked, “Someone like me? You seem to be implying there is something somehow lacking in my character.”
“Is there not? Are you not a rake?” Charlotte turned to face him, her arms crossed, accusation in her eyes.
An odd look crossed the Duke’s face before he shrugged and replied, “That is my reputation. It does not mean that there is anything wrong with meper se.”
Charlotte snorted. “I may not want to be married or even expect love in a marriage, but I would expect at the very least respect.”
“And you do not think I would respect you?” Duke Verimore asked.
“I think that a man with a reputation like yours would rather be cavorting with every woman under the sun than honouring his vows. He would be out carousing and drinking whilst I wasted away at home. I have no desire to be made a fool of.”I will never be made a fool of, and I will not trust a rake. Not again. Charlotte met the Duke’s gaze with defiance in her eyes.
“You seem rather certain that is what would happen. Have you not heard that reformed rakes make the best husbands?” His voice was soft, a teasing edge to it.
“If there were such a thing, then perhaps it would be true. I have known too many men like you.” Charlotte fought back a memory, the embarrassment and anger welling within her.
“Have you now? How very sordid.” The Duke took a step closer to her, and once more the scent of evergreens washed over her.
“Just because your mind creates sordid imaginations does not mean they are a reality.” She refused to move, to give him the satisfaction.
