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Which was the very reason Grace now questioned whether the duke making an appearance everywhere that she did might not be his way of deciding whether she might make him a suitable mistress.
The ladies’ description of him being wealthy, and consequently powerful, was immediately obvious. One had only to look at him to recognize the hat upon his head was a perfect fit and the height of fashion as it sat rakishly upon his golden hair. Just as his dark blue superfine and pale gray pantaloons were of the finest material and perfectly tailored to his wide shoulders, muscular chest, narrow waist, and long legs. The walking cane he carried had a silver top bearing what was no doubt the Melborne coat of arms, a rampant lion and an eagle.
That he was handsome showed in the haughty bearing of his aristocratic features. Unexpectedly with that pale hair, his eyes were a deep and unfathomable brown, his nose long and straight, his cheekbones defined, his lips sensual above a strong and arrogant jawline.
Melborne was, Grace conceded, every bit as sinfully handsome as the ladies had previously described him. And she had no intention of ever becoming better acquainted with him, let alone becoming his mistress.
“The nanny I had as a child,” he spoke pleasantly before Grace had the opportunity to tell him of her feelings on that subject, “held the barbaric view that washing a child’s mouth out with soap and water was the best way in which to cleanse away the use of unacceptable language.”
Grace stared at him for several moments, unsure as to what he was referring to. She finally realized Melborne was taking exception to her having used the word fuck in her opening statement.
She gave him a mocking glance. “Did she apply that form of punishment to you?”
“Often,” he drawled unrepentantly. “I am afraid I was a rather precocious child.” He sobered. “However, I do not recall ever using the word fuck when speaking to that worthy lady.”
Grace’s brows rose. “Would you rather I had said sexual intercourse? Or perhaps sexual congress?”
“They would both have been preferable to the word you did use.” His dark gaze was reproving. “Indeed, my first inclination after you had done so was to put you over my knee and spank your arse.”
Grace drew back with a gasp at the very idea of this man doing something so outrageous. “You might have tried,” she finally managed to say.
His mouth quirked into a mocking smile. “My dear, if I had tried, I should have succeeded.”
“You are at liberty to think so, of course, but that does not make it fact,” she scorned. “Nor would Finn have taken kindly to you showing such behavior toward me,” she reminded.
He glanced down at the dog now sitting calmly at her feet. “In the interest of preserving my pantaloons, I shall save the punishment for a time when the protective Finn is not present.”
“In any event,” Grace continued dismissively. “Anyform of intimacy between the two of us could not be called making love, hence my use of the word fuck.”
Melborne chose to ignore Finn’s low growl as he stepped closer to her. So close, in fact, the warmth of his breath brushed against her cheek when he next spoke. “How can you know what could be between the two of us until you have experienced it?” he prompted huskily.
“All is well, Finn,” Grace assured her still-growling pet before answering the duke. “It is my belief that two people need to at least have spent time together, getting to know each other, for there to be any chance of the two of them making love together.”
Melborne gave an acknowledging inclination of his head. “In that case, in order thatwemight become better acquainted, perhaps you might like to partake of afternoon tea with me in the pavilion over there?” He nodded across the park. “I have heard people say it is rather good.”
“Heard it from whom?” Grace derided. She could not imagine anyone in this man’s acquaintance ever having enjoyed anything as innocuous as afternoon tea. Certainly not the other Ruthless Dukes, who were reputed to be as aristocratically toplofty as Melborne.
“My sister, Lady Susan Ackroyd.” He sounded amused, no doubt because he could hear the disbelief in Grace’s tone.
Until a week ago, this man had merely been a name to her, and as such, so far above her social circle as to be in the clouds high above her. That he was now standing too close to her and inviting her to have afternoon tea with him seemed ludicrous.
That he had minutes ago threatened to spank her arse was even more so.
Even if the very thought of it caused Grace’s breasts to tingle, and she could feel a molten heat blossoming between her thighs.
CHAPTERTHREE
“I am afraid I must forgo your kind offer—”
“That is the second time you have used the word ‘must’ when refusing me,” Alaric noted. “First when declining the assumption you had made regarding any intention I might have toward you being of a carnal nature. And again now, when I have made the innocuous suggestion of the two of us having tea together.” He glanced down at her gloved hands. “Unless you have a fiancé or a husband I am unaware of, I do not see the need for you to have used as strong a term as ‘must forgo’ in anything you do or do not choose to do.”
She gave him an irritated glance. “You are quite right in your belief I am not betrothed nor married. Just as I am now equally right when I say gentlemen such as yourself do not partake of afternoon tea in the park.”
“Gentlemen such as myself?” he repeated slowly, despite knowing Grace was correct in her summation.
The only time Alaric made himself suffer through such tedious entertainment as afternoon tea was when he visited the home of his older sister. Then he would stay long enough to enjoy Susan’s and his two nieces’ company while drinking tea and eating sweetmeats. He had never, as Grace had guessed so easily, entertained the idea of publicly taking tea in the park.
She gave an impatient toss of her head. “You know perfectly well what I meant, and I do not appreciate you playing games with me by pretending you do not.”
