“And would you rather your inkpot be full or empty?”
“Full.”
“No wonder you asked to court me.” Mercy flicked an imaginary piece of lint of her hand. “We are practically the same person.”
“If that were the case, we would be a very dull pair indeed. Asking to court you had nothing to do with the fact that we both hate to lose at cards or chess.”
“It didn’t?”
“No. You have other qualities that drew me to you.”
First his grin, then his laugh, and now... was he flirting? Mercy tipped her head to the side. “What other qualities?”
The duke’s eyes traced her face, then slid down her neck andlanded on the spot where Mama’s emeralds had sat during their first meeting. Had Mama been right? Was it the jewelry that had caught the duke’s eye?
He blinked and jerked his gaze back to hers. Any trace of his earlier smile was gone. He’d schooled his face into bland propriety. “I think you and I can both agree that our stations in life are quite compatible. Your family is well respected, and your father has similar political leanings. I’ve worked tirelessly to try to bring aid to Ireland, and I simply don’t have the kind of sway my father had. I think having a...” He paused as if not certain what he was about to say was appropriate. “An ally such as yourself would help improve my reputation in the House of Lords.”
Whatever mirth Mercy had felt at the duke’s grin left her. He wanted her to help him politically? Is that why he’d been looking for a wife? Not that he could even bring himself to say the word. Did he think he would be obligated to marry her if he spoke of marriage in such clear terms? For heaven’s sake, did he even like her at all?
If the duke noticed her distress, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked down at the chess table. “Perhaps we can both get better at chess.” His Grace raised his eyes, his thick lashes making him appear younger than he was. “Together.”
“Today?” Mercy asked, still struggling to come to grips with the fact that the only reason he was here was because of her family’s position in Society.
“Not only today. I imagine I will be here often now. We can work on improving regularly.”
Weeks of playing chess and drinking tea with the duke flashed before her eyes. Definitely not the most romantic of courtships. She grimaced. “I suppose we can do that. But I think you are going to trounce me in chess.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because you don’t strike me as the type of person to give up easily. I, on the other hand, tend to give up as soon as trouble arises.”
“How do you ever win like that?”
“As I told you, it isn’t that I like to win; I simply I hate to lose. And I cannot lose if I stop playing the game.” She shrugged and pulled out the box of chess pieces stored under the table. She opened it and motioned for the duke to start setting up his side of the table. “Thus, the giving up easily.”
The duke eyed her carefully. “I do like to set a course and stay steady on it. And now that I know you don’t like trouble, I will try to not to give you any.” He spoke of chess, but certainly not only about chess. He’d set out on a course when he’d met with Father earlier, and now he was going to use her words to make even more certain their courtship was as uneventful as possible. This courtship was a mistake. She’d been blinded by the duke’s good looks and her parents’ words of encouragement, but there was no possible way she was going to fall in love with the man in front of her while they spent several weeks playing chess.
But it was too late now. Mercy started laying out her pawns. She would play chess with him, and then hopefully he would leave.
“Did you know that the first time I saw you was not at the Stafford ball?” The duke’s voice was low.
Mercy had a hand on her queen and was about to set it into position. She paused. “What?”
“I saw you once before. Outside of Donald Young’s funeral.”
Mercy’s heart went as still as her hand. She’d only ever talked about Donald with Rosalind. “You knew Donald?” How would Donald have known the duke? Her family was by far the best connection the Young family had, at least as far as she knew.
“I did.” His eyes softened. “He was a very dear friend. How well did you know him?”
“I...” Oh dear. This was one of the most embarrassing chapters of her life. She’d never met Donald, but she had set him up as the most likely of men to run off with her. “I didn’t. His brother, Richard, is married to my sister.”
The duke nodded as if he had known. “You were... inconsolable. But I don’t remember Donald mentioning you.”
She had been heartbroken. At fourteen, she had known that when she and Donald met, the two of them would have a whirlwind romance just as her sister had had. It was the ridiculous fancy of a young mind. She would have seemed like a child to Donald, if he had made it home. Still, Donald, despite being more fantasy than reality, had been an important part of her childhood, and she wouldn’t hide it. “I was fairly certain I was going to marry him.”
The duke made a choking sound in his throat and knocked the rook he had been laying out on its side. “I thought you hadn’t ever met him.”
“Oh, I hadn’t. But he was a soldier—sure to be handsome like his brother—and I just knew when we did meet, it would be fire and torchwood for the two of us.”
