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Why does he like me? I’ve been nothing but rude to him since I’ve arrived! Perhaps I should have chewed with my mouth open.Thatwould have been unforgiveable.
“Well, I’m… flattered.” Rosaline managed.
The Duke chuckled. “You don’t sound flattered.”
“No, I was polite, you see.”
“That’s a first.”
Rosaline stood up, taking in a deep breath. “It’s kind of you to ask, Your Grace, but I’m afraid there’ll be no second meeting.”
Now the scowl was back. The Duke clearly hadn’t expected a refusal.
“Why not?”
“None of your business. Good day, Your Grace.” Rosaline turned on her heel and hurried out of the shop. She needed to get out of sight before…
An iron grip closed around her wrist, pulling her back to face him. It was, of course, the Duke, who had risen from his seat and followed her more quickly and silently than Rosaline would have thought possible.
“Get off me.” Rosaline snapped, yanking her hand away.
“Ibeg your pardon, but you were so intent on fleeing.”
“Yes, for a reason. Tell me, Your Grace, do you have trouble understanding the word “no”, or did you simply not hear me?”
Good heavens, he was far taller than Rosaline had expected. He towered above her. The top of her head barely reached his ruby-red cravat pin.
“Iwould simply like to know why you refused me. You know nothing about me except what is common knowledge. Why are you so convinced that we don’t suit?”
“Why are you so convinced that we are? If you’re searching for a woman with no manners who speaks her mind, you can find plenty of them in the slums and gutters.”
The Duke shook his head. “I have no intention of rooting around in the gutter. I know that you have sufficient wealth, breeding, and family to be a proper wife for a Duke. However, once those qualifications have been met, I don’t think I’m unreasonable to look for more. So tell me, please, why are you so adamant we do not meet again?”
Rosaline swallowed. The truth was, with this tall, handsome, and deliciously frightening man looming over her, she simply couldn’t think of a good reason.
It’s not me he likes, remember. It’s Cordelia Atwood. Speaking your mind and shunning proper manners is only intriguing when you’re an heiress of impeccable breeding.
Rosaline tilted up her chin. “I didn’t want to say this, Your Grace, but the fact is, you look like a hawk. I don’t wish to marry a man that resembles a bird of prey. Good day to you.”
She turned on her heel and marched down the street, Maria scuttling behind her.
This time, she was not followed.
CHAPTER4
Benedict knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that the footmen had picked up on his simmering mood and kept out of his way. The butler took his coat and hat warily, murmuring something about refreshments.
“Where is Mr. Eaton?” Benedict asked sharply.
“In the library, Your Grace.”
“I’ll take tea in there.” Benedict turned on his heel, not waiting for the customary “Very well, Your Grace.”
Joshua was indeed in the library. He was lounging in a comfortable chair, a plate of cakes on the table beside him, with one leg slung over the arm of the chair. He scrambled to sit up, red-faced, as Benedict came in, then visibly relaxed.
“Oh, it’s just you. I thought it was the Dowager.” He swung his leg back over the arm of the chair, opening up his book again. “She says that I ought to read more improving books, not novels.”
“You should. I certainly hope you’re not intending to eat all of those cakes. You’ll get fat.”
