How to Marry a Duke (A Cinderella Society 2)

“The Splendid Miss Swift,” he said quietly, fondly. It did something to her knees, that tone. Made them shiver, made her legs heat. Made her want that honey tea. Made her want Dougal.

“Don’t be silly,” she said briskly. “He was rude. I merely pointed it out.”

“I am frequently rude.”

“Not on purpose. And you’re never rude, you’re just learning a new set of rules. And they may be absurd sometimes, but if someone is being unkind, I mean to use them as a weapon. I am afforded so few as it is.”

“You think he was being unkind, not just pompous.”

“He was. And negligent I think, after the previous duke’s illness.”

“I do know that, you know,” he said gently. “What his manners say about him. And I mean to come back to the matter of neglect, never fear.”

“You do?” Had she gone too far? There was a reason she kept so quiet; temper hadn’t fixed anything for her before.

“Aye.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I just don’t particularly care what that old man thinks.”

“You should!”

“Why? He’s not the first and he won’t be the last. And his opinion means nothing if he’s going to act the arse.”

“Well…yes. That’s true.”

“But?” He prodded.

“People are developing a habit of treating you and your family as if you don’t matter and I won’t have it.” She probably shouldn’t sound so vehement. Where were her usual placid tones? Her wry calm? She was all topsy-turvy, like a champagne bottle turned upside down.

“I see.”

She was still leaving in the morning. She just had several things to do first.

One of which included a decision not made lightly. And yet easily enough with Dougal standing there with his steady eyes the color of the sky and the perfect line of his jaw.

The other decision was a piece of work much easier done and connected to the topic at hand. “Your Grace,” she began.

He frowned, looking annoyed for the first time. “Don’t call me that.”

She half-smiled. “I can’t very well do otherwise after the fuss I just made with your land agent.”

“I’ll show you a fuss,” he muttered, eyes gleaming. His left eyebrow spoke volumes, dark delicious volumes. It should be illegal. “You’ll call me Dougal.”

His steely tone was doing nothing to cool the desire running roughshod throughout her body. She had to clear her throat. “I only mean to ask if I might do something for you before I leave, something which requires your permission.”

“Anything. But only if you call me by my bloody name.”

There was no reason to blush or feel as though she was suddenly standing in her chemise. She was nearly thirty years old, after all. And he had pulled the best orgasm she’d ever had from her body with very little effort. Which was exactly why she felt as though she might accidentally be naked.

And did not mind it a bit.

Thatdecision was making itself.

First things first.

“Dougal,” she said.

He was so satisfied she couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to.

“I found you a new housekeeper,” she blurted out.