Page 44 of The Wedding-Crashing Duchess

“That is a remarkably dishonest interpretation.”

“It is an efficient one.”

Ronan gave her a long look, then he leaned back in his chair with the resigned manner of a man accepting an inconvenience that could not be avoided.

“One question each,” he said. “And either of us may refuse if the question is unreasonable.”

“That defeats the entire purpose,” Augusta protested. “The other person must answer, or there is no game.”

“I will not agree to answer any question you choose without limitation.”

“You are a duke, and I am your wife, so I cannot imagine what scandalous secret you believe I intend to extract over roasted pheasant.”

“That sentence contains several reasons for caution.”

Augusta narrowed her eyes. “Very well. We may refuse one question each, although only one, and if you waste yours on something harmless, you cannot complain later.”

Ronan inclined his head. “Agreed.”

Augusta sat straighter, pleased by the small victory.

“My first question is very simple,” she said. “What is your favourite colour?”

Ronan stared at her. “That is your carefully prepared question? You summoned me into a game of compulsory honesty so that you could ask about colour?”

“I did not summon you anywhere, since you were already seated at your own dining table, and I chose a simple question so that you would stop behaving as though I intended to expose you before the House of Lords.”

Ronan considered the matter with unnecessary seriousness.

“Black,” he said.

Augusta looked at his coat, his waistcoat, and the dark cravat he had chosen for dinner.

“That answer required very little imagination.”

“You asked which colour I prefer, not which answer would entertain you.”

“Do you truly prefer black, or do you wear it so often that every other colour now appears alarming?”

“I prefer it,” Ronan replied. “It is practical, it does not require consideration, and no one attempts to discuss it with me.”

“I am discussing it with you now.”

“Yes, which suggests I overestimated its usefulness.”

Augusta smiled and lifted her wineglass.

“Your turn.”

Ronan’s gaze moved over her gown before returning to her face.

“What is your favourite colour?” he asked.

Augusta frowned. “You cannot simply repeat my question.”

“There was no rule preventing it.”

“It shows a lack of effort.”