Page 18 of The Not So Perfect Duke

“May I offer my condolences,” Wollstonecraft said gravely. “My grandfather, the Earl of Carnstone, and my father, Viscount Tensbridge, also offer their condolences.” The words were honestly spoken, and more than he had exchanged with Wollstonecraft since the man joined the group.

Damon took the outstretched hand and shook it. “I appreciate it. My sincere thanks to you and your family.”

“I don’t make a habit of attending funerals, but I wanted to offer my commiserations.”

“Not much of a funeral, really. My father wished for a low-key event,” Damon lied with ease. “And I followed his wishes.”

Oliver Wollstonecraft nodded and moved away, and Damon found himself moved by the sympathy offered. He should show Wollstonecraft a little more respect at the next meeting. Stranger after stranger cooed their sympathy. And as if he were an automaton, he shook hands when offered and responded appropriately.

His gaze kept sliding toward Althea, following her about the room, keeping track of her movements. She stood with Christian and Asher and their wives, speaking familiarly. When the mourners gathered their tea and edibles, Damon strode purposely toward the group.

Grasping Althea gently by the arm, he steered her away from the others. “Just need to speak for a moment,” he called back. “A matter of business.”

She pulled her arm out of his grip. “What are you doing? You are attracting notice,” Althea huffed with exasperation.

“What do I care about it? And more importantly, since when do you care?” he responded incredulously.

“Since you are now a duke. Your every move will be scrutinized, and with whom you are seen in society. I should never have agreed to stand with you today.”

Althea’s curt tone caused his heart to sink like a stone. But being adept at tucking such disappointment away, he instead showed infuriation. “I do not need your pity or your counterfeit empathy. As I said, this is business. If you do not wish to take on my case, say so here. I will find another agency, perhaps one more competent. One run by a man.”

He inwardly winced at the jaundiced statement. Althea and Eleanora had proven that they were more than capable. He was hurt and lashed out, something a petulant child would do.

Something he would do.

“Hell, ignore that. I do not mean it,” Damon murmured. And he spoke the truth. Why Damon responded in such a way puzzled him exceedingly. Instead of dismissing his crass behavior as in the past, perhaps it was time for self-reflection. And soon.

“I wonder,” Althea whispered, her lovely eyes alive with flames of fury. “Sometimes, when emotional, people say things they genuinely believe, but in normal circumstances would never voice aloud. Or it could be that you are just an arrogant, ignorant bastard deep to your core.”

Ouch. No one put Damon in his place quite like Althea Galway. And he deserved her wrath. Every bit of it.

“Perhaps I am both. Nevertheless, I do apologize. It was uncalled for, and I had no business uttering such misogynistic drivel. For I do not believe it, I assure you. I never have, regardless of what I may have said now or in the past.”

Her mouth twisted. “Hmm. Well, considering the circumstances of your father passing away, I accept your apology. This time. But if you ever speak such misogynistic drivel as you call it, ever again, our association is at an end.”

“I have been duly warned. Now, come with me to Clarendon Place to discuss the case.”

“No.”

“Now, who is acting petulant?”

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. I cannot be seen going into your house alone after being by your side at the funeral service. If this is business, then come to Cleveland Street instead.”

Damon exhaled, frustrated. He had ordered a luncheon prepared with her favorite sandwiches. Well, no use arguing. Looking about the room, it appeared Althea was indeed correct. They were attracting attention.

“As you wish. When?”

“In two hours, at three o’clock. And we will not be alone. Eleanora and Christian will be there,” Althea said, her voice firm.

“What?” he said a little too loudly, attracting even more scrutiny. “Whatever for?”

“They are part of the agency, and I may need them on this case. Until then.” She inclined her head and moved away.

Disheartened and aroused, he growled low in his throat. He marched to the food table, grabbed a funeral biscuit, and nibbled on it.

Christian came to stand next to him. “Damon, you certainly know how to provoke speculation. Althea put you in your place once again?” he mused sardonically.

“Once again. And I loved it,” Damon replied, causing Christian to chuckle.