Page 25 of Distracting the Duke

His sarcasm dashed all feelings of sympathy. “Or, you may have already been coming down with something if you spent your day at the auction. A press of people like that often carries a risk of disease.” What was she rambling on about? She hadn’t come here to make small talk.

His lips flattened. “What are you now? A natural scientist? A doctor? Should I dismiss the physician who generally attends me, and use you instead?”

“You could do worse,” she retorted, knowing she was taking the bait but unable to help herself. “I’ve learned much about domestic medicine from books. It certainly saves on doctors’ fees.”

“Let’s assume that I have no problem paying such fees. But I’m interested to hear your learned opinion regarding my malady.”

It was clear he really wasn’t, but she answered anyway. “A tisane of feverfew would help relieve the fever. Plenty of cool liquid, obviously, a honey and garlic electuary to relieve your cough, and a mustard plaster for your chest.”

Don’t look at his chest, Clara, don’t look! It was hard not to, though, for the duke’s body was infinitely better than Simon’s. And so…exposed.

To her surprise, Ulvercombe gazed at her consideringly rather than mockingly. “So, you’re an expert on home remedies, are you? You must have had to nurse sick relatives a good deal, or perhaps your husband was the poorly sort.” When her jaw dropped, he shook himself and said, “Forgive me. That was insensitive.”

And yet, not as insensitive as dueling with her brother.

“It’s of no consequence, sir,” she snapped. “Now, please stop throwing me off course.”

“I shall cease at once. I presume once you get what you came for, you’ll leave me to be ill in peace? Out with it, then, before my inhaling mixture goes cold.”

She drew in a deep breath, and said, “I wish you to withdraw from the duel.”

It then occurred to her that she had nothing at all to bargain with. What price might the duke exact from her in return?

Chapter Fifteen

Marcus rolled his eyes. Women just didn’t understand the male code of honor, or if they did, chose to ignore it.

He said wearily, “Yes, I know that’s what you want, but I cannot withdraw. I’ll have to postpone, however, until I recover my health.”

Her expression took on that stubborn air he’d grown so unfortunately used to seeing. “I’m resolved to stay here until I have your promise not to meet my brother at dawn.”

The thought had possibilities. If only he didn’t feel like he’d been trampled by a herd of bulls.

“Then you may as well make yourself comfortable. I don’t intend to renege.” Anyway, why was she bothering him with this? It was her hothead brother she should be speaking to. Weston had issued the challenge, not him.

He glared at her again, then blinked. Devil take it. She was looking almost pretty again, her hair mussed by the wind and her cheeks a rosy red.

It must be the fever toying with his perception…

He said, “You’re overheating in your riding jacket. I suggest you remove it if you plan to stay. I’m going back to my steaming.”

“Just promise not to duel with Philip and I’ll leave you to get on with your ailment undisturbed.”

Pretty, but deuced annoying.

He coughed, then croaked, “So, I must fight not one, but two duels—the first with yourself and the second with your brother. Tell me, Lady Clara, have you always been this stubborn?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her and watched her color deepen. After a moment she jutted her chin, peeled off her gloves, and unbuttoned her riding jacket. He watched, amused, as she looked around for a place to sit. His bed was the only option, so she perched at its foot, keeping her back ramrod straight, and folded her jacket in her lap.

Then, like a child repeating its lesson, she began, “Dueling is a barbaric practice, quite justly outlawed—”

Wonderful! He was about to be lectured. “I’m going to ring for my embrocation. Can I offer you refreshment, if you’re determined to stay?”

“Please don’t interrupt me.” She removed the kerchief from around her neck.

He wondered unchivalrously if he should stoke up the fire to see what else might come off.

After dabbing at her forehead, she said, “Very well, I’ll accept some cold water, thank you. Now as I was saying, barbaric and outlawed—”