My Darling Duke

“The reason is irrelevant. Simply know that is my wish and you will obey.”

She turned her head on the carpet and stared at the starkness of his profile, which spoke of an ageless strength. An unexpected admiration for him swelled within her heart. “Would you like me to leave?” Her stomach went tight at his quiet contemplation.

“No, it would please me for you to stay.”

It was hard to explain the happiness that swarmed through her veins. “But you do not wish my help, either,” she murmured.

“You are getting to know me, Miss Danvers.”

Kitty scoffed. “I doubt that. I’ve barely scratched at your surface, though I daresay I would like to.”

“To scratch me? How unusual.”

She was maddeningly conscious of his body next to hers. “To get to know you.”

As if sensing the weight of her curiosity, he slowly turned to look at her, his gaze flickering over her in a thorough appraisal. His eyes glittered with such intensity, Kitty was almost discomfited. She became flushed and breathless but filled with a strange sense of anticipation. With a muttered, indiscernible curse, he glanced away. What are you afraid of, Alexander?

“Ask me any question and I shall answer.”

“Truly?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think of our time in the cabin?” And Kitty had not realized those words had escaped. Her cheeks grew hot, and she instinctively pressed her hands to them. Why had she asked that?

His seemingly bemused silence encouraged her mortification.

“I do,” he finally answered.

Kitty waited a few beats before saying, “That is all you have to say on the matter?”

“Yes.”

“You are a maddening creature!”

“You still like me,” he said with rough amusement. “It is a part of my charm.”

He had a rare gift for rattling her nerves and causing her to blush. Kitty swore that before the duke, she had never blushed more than once per year. “I… One of the old rumors when I announced our engagement was that you had been poised to marry the Countess Lynwood.”

“Lady Daphne, a lady of exaggerated sensibilities and a propensity for crying pretty tears.”

“Did you love her?”

“I enjoyed her company, but it was not love. It was a match encouraged by our parents. Our joint holdings would have been one of the most powerful in England. I agreed with my father’s suggestion of Lady Daphne as my bride, and she was content to marry for the sake of a great position.”

Kitty shifted slightly on the carpet so she could observe his expression better. “Do you regret not marrying her?”

“No.”

The swift reply and surety soothed the unexplained ache that had risen inside her.

“The lady cried off after seeing my scars and broken body. The memory is hazy because of the laudanum, but I still recall her fainting at least three times and wailing to her father that she would not marry a monster.”

“But you are such a charming monster,” she murmured.

His lips twitched; he tugged one of his hands from behind his head and ran a finger over his scarred cheek. “Besides Penny, you may be the only woman of my acquaintance who looks upon me and does not flinch from my ugliness. Quite admirable.”

“I believe people look away because it is uncomfortable to gaze upon another’s pain when it is bare for the world to see. How do they relate? Or offer words of compassion when they truly cannot understand your pain? It would seem pretentious to say the least, and they are aware of it, and thus become flummoxed and perhaps act like fools. You are one of the most handsome men of my acquaintance.”