So, she didn’t know him. Or she was a very good actress. How did he know her? “But what of those daughters? How would their parents know he is whattheywould want?”
She laughed. “Everyone wants a duke.”
“Even if the duke is an ingrate?”
“If he were young, rich,andan ingrate, I suppose only three-quarters of thetonwould be lining up to marry him.”
Nicholas clenched his jaw. This was the kind of reasoning that had gotten him in trouble when he was younger. Being a duke should not negate his need for a moral compass. It should increase it. He should be an example, not someone who took advantage of others.
Unfortunately the talk in the cardroom only supported this woman’s claims. Anyone. He could marry practically anyone. Even this young lady. At least she could talk to him; that was an improvement on Lady Marion.
Of course, she didn’t know who he was, and that most likely made conversation easier. But a woman who spoke so freely to a man in an empty corridor would likely also speak freely to a duke. Patience’s reminder that he should find a woman he liked rang in his ears. Perhaps Ottersby’s list wasn’t the best idea.
There was a beautiful, intriguing woman right in front of him. Her eyes, skin, and smile were like magnets, drawing him. He could step closer, lean in, and see how she responded. Father wasn’t here anymore to judge him.
He swayed forward, only slightly. The woman didn’t even seem to notice, but the infinitesimal loss of space between them sent a wave of panic through him. His chest tightened. His right hand fisted and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from slamming it into the wall. This is why he had avoided searching for a wife. It had been only one measly day, one evening of opening himself up to the idea of a relationship with a woman, and already his devotion to his father was wavering. Had he truly learned nothing in the army? Was the only reason he’d managed to stay respectable where women were concerned because he’d avoided them altogether? Had it actually made him a better man than he had been with Lady Plymton?
He needed to find a wife, and it couldn’t happen soon enough. Some men had the self-control to manage long courtships, but Nicholas was not one of them. He cleared his throat, determined to stay calm. “Surely not three-quarters.”
“Do you think more? Being a duchess would be a lot of work, and if the duke was also an ingrate...” She turned, and her eyes were bright, even in the dimly lit corridor. “I think at least a quarter of the women would rather settle for a well-mannered earl.” She raised her eyebrows in a cheerful way he had never seen anyone do before—first one and then the other, as if they were dancers following each other’s steps. “Or even a baron.”
“Ah, settling for a baron. Every young woman’s dream.”
Her face fell slightly. “It wasn’t my dream when I was a girl. I was much more interested in soldiers.”
Her eyes dipped low, and her face turned, and suddenly he knew exactly who she was.
Chapter 6
A hollow stillness enveloped him.He closed his eyes a moment to catch his breath.
Memories of Donald pounded through him. He had been the best of men, and Nicholas should have been on the battlefield with him. Not sitting at home reading crop reports.
She was older now than on the day she had come to collect her father after Donald’s funeral. She had been crying almost inconsolably. He had asked Donald’s father about her, thinking perhaps she had been a sweetheart Donald had never mentioned.
But she wasn’t. Mr. Young had been just as confused as he had been. Her older sister was married to Donald’s younger brother, Richard, but as far as Mr. Young knew, Donald had never met the girl. Donald certainly hadn’t ever mentioned her.
That young girl, inconsolable and unembarrassed by her grief, was the first person Nicholas had thought of when his mother hadn’t mustered up tears for her own husband.
But who was she? Donald wasn’t ranked, so it wouldn’t follow that his younger brother had married someone with a title. Yet those emeralds around her neck flaunted wealth. Perhaps her family had recently come into money. What was the name of Donald’s brother’s wife?
“Being the wife of a soldier would not be an easy task.”
“Oh,” she nodded, “I know.” Her eyes clouded over, and he wondered if she was thinking back to that gloomy day five years ago. But then she blinked hard, and her smile returned. “But it wouldn’t be as demanding as being the wife of a duke. Can you imagine the parties and the elegance a woman would have to have? I would hardly qualify.”
“Qualify? Is there some list of requirements in order to become the wife of a duke?” He violently ignored the fact that he’d argued just that with Ottersby. The whole idea seemedpreposterous to him now. For all their plotting, he hadn’t listed “capable of strong feeling” as an asset, and suddenly that asset had jumped to the top of his list. Freckles might make the top five. What else had he missed?
The sound of her laughter filled the corridor. He had seen her cry and now laugh. Both were equally fascinating to him. “Do you honestly think there isn’t?”
“Perhaps this particular duke would not expect his wife to do anything she didn’t want to do,” Nicholas said. “Perhaps he could throw his own parties, and he wouldn’t care if she weren’t accomplished in all of the art forms ladies are taught.” Especially if one of those artforms was singing.
The woman’s shoulders bounced, and she bit her index finger, most likely to stifle another laugh. “Oh no, I guarantee you social planning skills would be at the top of any self-respectable duke’s list.”
He stepped away from the wall. That wasnotat the top of his list. Rank had been. “I suppose this means you aren’t one of the ladies who would be interested in marrying a duke?”
She turned around and blinked. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. I can’t imagine a duke being interested in me.”
He took a step back and surveyed her. Critically. First of all, shehadmade an impression on him the first time he saw her. She’d been young then, but she was certainly not the youngest woman out in Society now. Her laughter was pleasant, and unlike Lady Marion, she wasn’t afraid to speak. But she was standing outside the cardroom with a complete stranger, eavesdropping on the men inside. It was a definite mark against her. But seeing as he was doing the same thing, perhaps not an insurmountable one. There were worse things. And those blasted freckles. Something told him he would be counting them in his sleep after the ball. He blinked hard. Freckles shouldn’t make the list, and they definitely shouldn’t make the top five. Nothing physical neededto be anywhere near the top of that list. He needed to forget them.
