Page 76 of Cocky August Rake

Hearing Malum called by his given name unsettled her. It made the formidable duke sound almost human.

“He wasn’t a duke then. Nor quite so determined to dislike everything.”

Rose hadn’t known the Duke of Malum well. Nell had always served as the go-between for him and the women of The Domus. But on the few occasions Rose had spoken with him, he’d seemed fair. Imposing, certainly, but never careless with his power.

She didn’t think Reginald meant to be either.

Whatever their differences over The Domus, both men seemed driven by the same stubborn need to do what they believed was right. Neither wore his birthright as though it placed him above everyone else.

They looked alike too. Both tall, dark, and striking.

Though Rose found Reginald the handsomer of the two.

His features were less sharply cut than his brother’s. Less formal. Not softer, precisely—there was nothing soft about Lord Reginald—but easier to look at.

Far too easy.

“He can’t dislike everything,” Rose said, smiling. “He’s married now. And a father.”

“True.” Reginald looked toward the ceiling. “Marriage has softened him.”

“Perhaps that softness was always there. He just needed the duchess to draw it out.”

“And the baby.” His mouth twitched. “Although, he’ll never be entirely soft. He is Malum, after all.”

Rose nodded, and then turned to study the man beside her rather than the priceless artwork all around them.

“And you? Do you think you’ll ever marry?”

The question was straightforward, with no expectation whatsoever—but when Reginald turned to her, her heart gave a small, foolish dip.

“I had thought not,” he said. “But perhaps, if I met the right woman.”

His gaze remained on her.

For one impossible moment, Rose wondered—No.

No.

A low rumble of thunder sounded beyond the walls, and Rose shivered. Rain stirred the old dread in her—the memory of water falling everywhere and having nowhere safe to go.

Maybe she’d needed the reminder that this may feel like courting, but men like Lord Reginald did not marry women like her.

No man, in fact, would ever marry a woman like her.

Reginald glanced toward the windows. Then, without a word, he put an arm around her shoulders and drew her briefly against his side.

It did not mean anything.

It could not.

The warmth of him beside her. The hours they’d spent wandering London. The way they found any excuse to take each other’s hand.

None of it could matter.

Rose had a purpose. Everyone was trusting her to change his mind, and her thirty days to accomplish that were slipping away.

Only lately…