Page 16 of The Haunted Duke

“Would you stop taking away every flower I reach for?” she testily asked. “And what if I am? What is so wrong with that?”

“Nothing is wrong with that if it is true,” the Duke countered, picking up a dusky blue hydrangea and holding it out to her. “But you could at least pick one flower Jeremy likes.”

Helena hesitated for a moment, then accepted the flower.

“Jeremy does not like tulips?” she asked.

“He finds them tacky. Even I know that,” the Duke answered, his left brow perking as he looked her up and down again. “Jeremy prefers white lilies, but only if they are calla or stargazer. Anything else will not do. I am very surprised that he would leave something like that to chance.”

The taunting way he spoke had a surge of panic moving through Helena’s veins. Did he somehow know that their wedding was a ruse? That they were not in love and just good friends trying to survive a difficult transition together? Helena drew her bottom lip between her teeth and began to nibble on it, wondering what she could do to move away from the topic.

“Well, since I cannot pick anything right, Your Grace,” she said after a moment. “What do you like?”

The Duke scoffed as he turned just enough so she could see the side of his face where his scar ran down from temple to jaw.

“What I like does not matter. I will not be the one marrying you,” he replied.

Helena glowered at him as she caught the dismissive note in his tone.

“I know you are not the one marrying me! I was just trying to have a polite conversation!” she hurled back. “All I did was ask for your opinion.”

“Because you are not comfortable with the one concerning Jeremy and what he likes,” he shot back, a mischievous grin taking over his chiseled lips.

Helena’s scowl grew deeper as her grip on the flowers’ stems grew tighter. She wanted to take the array and whack him over the head with it, duke or not!

“You did not have to accompany me if you did not—” she started to seethe, but before she could finish her sentence, the shopkeeper approached them again.

“Your Grace, it has been a while, and I wanted to see how you were finding the flowers,” he said pleasantly, clasping his hands together.

A while?

How long had she been arguing with the Duke of Redgrave?

“Ah, yes. We will take the white stargazer lilies and, even though Jeremy might not love them, I think the blue hydrangeas will suit you the most,” the Duke stated before Helena could respond.

Helena looked back up at Evander, shocked. She loved the scent of lilacs and did find their flowers quite pretty, but hydrangeas? Particularly the blue ones? Those were her very favorites. She loved how the tiny flowers bunched together into a big flower ball, making one large one; how they reminded her of little pillows she always dreamed of lying down on and snuggling into.

How did he know that?

“Excellent choices,” the shop owner praised. “Her Grace has already sent the number of bouquets she would like, so now that you have picked your flowers, I have all that I need. We will have the sample arrangements sent to Winterbourne Estate for you to choose in a day or two.”

“Thank you,” Helena managed, though she scarcely heard her own voice. Her thoughts were still snagged on the hydrangea turning slowly between her fingers.

How could he have known?

“Come, Miss Robinson.” The Duke was already at the door. “We are not yet finished.”

The heavy door began to swing closed again as the Duke made it out to the street, and Helena ate away some of her frustration by giving it a hard push so she could follow him. Aggie was right behind her.

“Go on then, say what you want to say,” he goaded as they walked toward the modiste’s.

“Say what?” she snapped, glaring up at him.

“What you are thinking. Your expression is already saying enough for you, and I assume you have been holding that lecture in for a while now, Miss Robinson,” he replied in the same goading fashion.

Helena gritted her teeth at his condescending tone and let out a frustrated sound.

“Why are you like this?” she all but snarled. “The first time we met, you looked at me as if I were some demon and remained utterly silent! Then, suddenly, when you do decide to speak, you choose to mock me at every possible turn! Why? Why are you being so… so…?”