Much Ado About Dukes

He cleared his throat and bowed. “Forgive me for my abruptness. I have an appointment at Gentlemen Jackson’s.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Boxing?”

“Indeed,” he replied.

“Of course.” She nodded, relieved to be on a subject about which she could argue. “Men do seem to like to bash one another about, rather than have it out in a good discussion.”

His lips twitched as if he was tempted to rise to her bait, but instead he tried another tactic. “You are correct, of course; gentlemen do like to box.”

“I will never understand it,” she said, shrugging her shoulders, which caused her green pelisse to tighten slightly, and, quite ungentlemanly, his eyes dropped to her breasts.

His mouth tightened ever so slightly before he yanked his gaze back to her face.

What the blazes had passed through his mind just then? Whatever it was, it had caused the strangest sensation to dance across her skin.

“That is because you do not box,” he pointed out, trying to discreetly coil his hand into a fist, but she spotted it.

“Women are not allowed,” she pointed out, her breath doing the oddest things as she attempted to regulate it. For goodness’ sake, they were in the park. Margaret was present. She was not attracted to the arrogant lout.

She wasn’t!

Oh dear heavens…

She was, and it was most impossible. She’d have to nip that in the proverbial bud. Such things were not for her. No, she’d never risk temptation. Not when she had so very much to accomplish with her life.

Her parents’ great love affair made anything less a very unappealing prospect, too.

Yes. He was unappealing.

“That’s not true,” he replied, his gaze changing from one of strain to delight.

“I beg your pardon?” she queried.

“Women most definitely box,” he stated, all but beaming now as he informed her of something she did not know.

It was most irritating, that look. And yet…his news was too fascinating to dismiss.

“They do?” she said, trying not to sound astounded. “Surely not.”

“Oh yes,” he affirmed, appearing most pleased that he had shocked her.

Beatrice tapped her chin as an idea occurred to her. And before she could think twice, she blurted, “Would you teach me, then, if you like it so well? Since we are to be family. You seem a logical choice.”

He coughed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Teach me to box,” she carried on, refusing to back down now. And frankly, the idea was quite thrilling. Ladies were so limited in what they were generally allowed that she was going to leap at this. “So that I might understand why gentlemen like it so well. You seem to think it merely for lack of education that women do not care for boxing. And it could prove very useful if ever I’m in a difficult spot.”

He blanched. “I hate the idea of you in a difficult spot.”

“Hate it as you will, but it is the lot of a lady,” she stated.

His face darkened, and he swung his gaze to Margaret and then back to Beatrice. “But…surely your guardian protects you—”

“I did not take you for naive, Your Grace,” mused Beatrice. “How interesting.”

“I?” he echoed. “Naive? Hardly.”

“Ah, but you don’t realize how many ladies have had to issue a good stomp to keep a gentleman’s hand from wandering too far south.”