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Breanne shot him a look making it clear that she did not believe him for one moment.
“Okay,” he conceded, “I also wished to be an arse when I said to throw out the list, but it does not make me wrong either. My mother knows these families, not these girls.”
“How am I supposed to find you a wife if all the names on the list are useless?” she said. “I barely know these families or these women, which is why I am the worst person to be in charge of this,” she told him bluntly. He admired her realness. Most people would be begging for an opportunity to work with him, hoping his status would elevate their own.
“You are going about this all wrong,” Henry told her.
“Oh, really?” she questioned, annoyance coloring her voice.
“Yes. I’m the Duke of Rochester, whoever I marry will be Duchess, and that is no easy title to swallow. I need a woman like no other — one who is socially acceptable and ready to bear the weight of the responsibility of this position. We can’t just pick from a list and a dossier. We need a woman ready for the task ahead,” Henry stated.
“We?”
“Yes, we. You’ll have dinner with me tonight,” Henry demanded on a whim, enjoying the deep red flush that spread from her cheeks to the top of her breasts.
“No,” Bre practically screamed for a moment, forgetting that she was speaking to her boss. “There’s absolutely no reason for us to have a meal or interact outside of business hours.”
The sensible part of Henry knew she was right, but the more significant part of his brain, the impulsive part, didn’t take no for an answer.
“Breanne, if you are going to be helping me pick my bride, you should get to know me better.” That sounded like a viable excuse to Henry, even if it was complete shit. He knew who he planned to pick, but Bre did not need to know that. Before she could think of even more reasons to say no, Henry dismissed her.
“I’ll send a car to your place this evening. Please be ready to leave at eight.” And with that The Duke of Rochester got the ball rolling on his master plan for seduction.
Chapter Four
“I’m sorry, did you tell me you are going on a date with the Duke of Rochester?” Bre’s roommate Emily asked incredulously.
“It’s not a date Emily,” Breanne said, running around the bathroom applying makeup with mad efficiency. “It is a working dinner.”
“A working dinner? With a Duke? Who sent you a dress? Sure,” Emily did not believe a word that Bre said. Partially because she’d seen pictures of the irresistibly handsome Duke, and partly because she’d never witnessed her roommate so flustered. At the very least, Emily knew the situation affected Bre in a way not professional.
“I doubt Henry sent me this dress himself,” Bre said gesturing to the deep blue silk that hugged her every curve. Emily was a bartender at the local pub, so while not a fashionista, even she could tell that the dress was expensive. “He probably paid an assistant to send it to freak me out. I get the sense he enjoys making me uncomfortable,” Bre said honestly
“First name basis now?” Emily said, snickering.
Bre took a deep breath, both to calm her nerves and her frustration over her roommate’s inquiries. Bre knew she was beautiful. She’d never been without male attention when she wished for it; however, the focus of a powerful man was new, especially since Bre knew that the Duke was playing games. The ability he had to make her wet with just a look made her uncomfortable.
“Emily, I am working on a difficult request for the Duke. This dinner is not permanent, and I am sure that this dress is simply a gesture of goodwill,” she said. Deep down, Bre knew better. The Duke wanted to screw her, mostly, to screw with her, and his mother, and anyone else who placed expectations on him. Knowing this did not stop her skin from heating up at the thought of him.
“Come here,” Emily said, stopping her torment. “You need a better lipstick color.”
Bre rolled her eyes but followed Emily and allowed her to slick a ruby red lip over her pout. “There,” Emily said, satisfied with her work.
Glancing in Emily’s full-length mirror, Bre admired her reflection. The blue silk slipped softly across her skin, tantalizingly hugging her hips. Though her makeup was overall soft and subtle, the bright red on her lips made her look sultry and seductive.
“Shit,” Bre said aloud considering the implications of her look. Instead of looking ready to consult, Bre looked prepared for a date. “This is not the level of business professional I was trying to accomplish,” she said.
“Too late now,” Emily told her friend practically reading her mind. “Car is here.”
* * *
Henry, The Duke of Rochester, looked terrific in another tight navy suit and crisp tie. Blue highlighted his dark features. Driving to the restaurant in such close quarters made her head spin as his masculine scent invaded the small space, and she was happy to be at the restaurant finally.
“You look incredible,” Henry said to her.
“I’m shocked that you guessed my size correctly,” she said, trying to remain in control of her spiraling hormones.
“I have a knack for dress sizes,” Henry said, killing her mood. With offensive efficiency, Bre’s hormonal mind bend evaporated as she considered how many women probably found themselves in her position. The Duke of Rochester probably was able to guess a woman’s clothing size by merely looking at her. The thought did not sit well with her.
