He raised an eyebrow. “I haven’t?”
“Not hardly.” She strode toward him, eye on his perfectly tied cravat. She wanted to pull it away and let it fall so she could see that other duke. The one who kissed her hand and made her breath catch. She wanted to make his breath catch this time. “Perhaps wedohave a spark. But before I agree to anything else,I need to see it burn. Just a bit.”
His eyes went to the chess table they were just sitting at, and she knew what he was thinking. Hadn’t that counted? Perhaps she should leave it at that. But the great Duke of Harrington had let his guard down, and she wasn’t certain how long it would be until she got to see that duke again. She already missed him.
She leaned forward, and to his credit, for once, he didn’t step back. “Let’s consider, for a moment, that perhaps you are not quite as dispassionate as I assumed. That doesn’t mean I don’t have any other concerns. In fact, I have a few.”
“A few?” His eyes, which had flinched slightly at the worddispassionate, furrowed. “Exactly how many is a few?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m still coming up with them.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, and he eyed the door. “That hardly seems fair. And if you have concerns, I should be allowed some in return.” His first concern was extremely apparent. Evidently, he was only comfortable with the door closed when he was on his best behavior.
Mercy smiled. “Crack it open if you’re worried.”
His shoulders relaxed, and he turned and opened the door a few inches. When he faced her again, it was with more confidence. “Now, tell me your concerns.”
This blessed man. How had his propriety seemed so abhorrent to her? It was adorable. “First of all, this wholeYour Gracebusiness. It wears on me. How can I truly fall in love with a man if I must call him ‘Your Grace’ all the time?”
His eyes lit up, and he smiled. He hadn’t seemed to mind at all when she’d called him Nicholas earlier. “That is easy enough to remedy. Don’t call me that. Not anymore.”
“But if I call you Harrington—or even worse, Nicholas—what will people think?”
“Oh, people be d—” He stopped. “I see what you are doing.”
She widened her eyes innocently. “What?”
“You are trying to entrap me.”
“Into marriage? You practically asked me to marry you just a moment ago.”
“Into admitting that there are some areas of Society that are hard to navigate, that perhaps could even be ignored at times.”
“So... what should I call you? If I call you—”
He stepped forward and grasped her fingertips in his own. “Call me Nicholas. If it will help you to see me as someone you could, perhaps, spend your life with, please continue to call me Nicholas.”
“Nicholas.” She rolled his name around on her tongue, and the way his eyes darkened was a far cry from proper.
He swallowed hard. “But if you call me Nicholas at the ball tonight, you must know that there will be consequences.”
“Oh.” She leaned forward, widening her eyes and making her mouth form an O, as if she were afraid. “Consequences.”
“This isn’t a game, Mercy.”
She hadn’t given him permission to use her Christian name, but in the past half hour something splendid had awoken in him. He had finally understood whatsheneeded between them. For the past few weeks, every interaction, except perhaps those she had engineered to put him together with Miss Morgan, had been spent courting the wayhehad thought courting should be done. But now... now he was different. Between that awakening and finally understanding what had happened to make him act the way he did, this visit had changed everything. She slid closer to him, her eye on his cravat. The last remaining artifact of the starched man he’d been when she’d walked into the room. “It could be, though. It could be a very enthralling game. Much better than chess.” She touched the knot at the center of his throat. “If you let it.”
Nicholas eyed the open door, and she felt as if she could see his calculations: What would it look like if her parents came in?What would Society think of this change between them? How would he recover socially if she never agreed to marry him after the two of them were caught alone together?
Before she gave him any more chances to think, she pulled at the knot in his cravat.
Nothing happened.
Nicholas’s back had gone ramrod straight again, but he didn’t step away or tell her to stop. She pulled again. The silk under her fingers crumpled, but the knot did not come undone. Mercy stepped forward, then with both hands at his neck, she examined the blasted thing closer.
“There is a pin,” Nicholas said, his voice quiet. “Thankfully.”
“Why thankfully? Don’t you get tired of that being tied around your neck?”
