What A Duke Dares

Or forever?

Stubbornness firmed his jaw. “No.” He stared hard at her, green eyes opaque. “Pen, God forgive me, but I never expected to want you.”

Like a seedling reaching for the sun, joy unfurled. Until native cynicism made her hesitate. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

His lips flattened. “I’m not.”

Her laugh was acid. “So this isn’t the prelude to another proposal?”

He flinched. “You had good reason to refuse me.”

Yes, she did. She still did. “A lucky escape for you.”

“I wouldn’t be so ungallant.”

Her lips twisted and she stared into her lap, covered in thick white flannel. Strangely, this was the closest they’d ventured to a frank conversation in a week. “Never you, Your Grace.”

“Stop sniping. I’m struggling to do what’s best.”

She regarded him with dislike. “You always do.”

Her ironic tone nettled him. “Our circumstances are trying, but not impossible.”

“Glad to hear it.”

He plowed on. “I’ve always tried to be honorable.”

Of course he had, she thought wearily. Another snide remark rose, but his expression stifled it. “That’s good.”

“Pen, I have to keep my hands off you.”

Pain crunched her heart. “Because I’m an unsuitable bride?”

Waiting for agreement felt like the pause before someone punched a bruise.

He shook his head. “Because I’m courting another lady.” He stared over her head as if the crucifix on the wall provided enormous interest. “When I return to England, I’m marrying Lady Marianne Seaton, the daughter of the Marquess of Baildon.”

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