Page 45 of This Marquess of Mine

“Ah.” Griffin nodded. “Your mothers are pushing for the match, eh?”

Paxton blew out a breath. “They’re ravenous for it.”

“And you hate to disappoint them.”

The duke shrugged. “You have a mother. You know what it’s like.”

Griff almost smiled at that, the man’s assumption that all relationships between mothers and sons must be like his. Griffin loved his mother, but he would never allow her to dictate whom he married. Not that his mother would try, or even wish to.

“I saw you dancing with Lady Olivia last night,” Paxton said, making a great effort to keep his tone casual. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you dance with anyone besides your mother and sister.”

Griffin lifted one shoulder. “I made an exception,” he said. “Lady Olivia is worth it.”

He allowed a little smile to curve his lips, as if just the thought of her made him happy and noted with satisfaction when Paxton’s mouth pinched in consternation.

“I see.”

Griff arched a brow. “You disagree?”

“What? No!” The duke’s eyes had gone wide. “No, of course not. Lady Olivia is a wonderful girl. It’s only that I wondered—” He cleared his throat, his gaze on the table. “That is…do you intend to court her?”

Griff took his time with his answer, letting the silence stretch into uncomfortable territory as he slowly circled the rim of his glass with his forefinger. Only the crackle and pop of the fire burning in the nearby hearth filled the quiet.

“I might,” he finally replied, infusing his tone with thoughtfulness. “I am in no rush to marry, but now that Olivia has been...set free, so to speak...” He trailed off, forcing the duke’s imagination to fill in the rest. He felt not one iota of sympathy for the man beside him squirming in his chair.

“Right. Right.” Paxton nodded, visibly agitated as his throat worked. “Well, I will leave you to your solitude now, Keswick. I’d best be off. Business to attend to, you know. Good day.”

He shot to his feet, so abruptly he nearly knocked his chair to the floor, and then he was off, dashing for the door as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

A moment later, the two fops he’d come in with went after him, clearly confused. Griff chuckled to himself. The duke was so agitated he’d forgotten about his friends.

Let him suffer, he thought, inhaling deeply the faint scents of cheroot smoke and cologne. It was no less than he deserved after what he’d done to Olivia. And what he’d done to himself.

The idiot obviously wanted her, but as far as Griff was concerned, any man who so willingly sacrificed his own wants over the desires of his mother deserved to be unhappy.