Desiring The Duke (Strong Women Find True Love 4)

“And so, you came to this conclusion about me all on your own, did you? I suppose perhaps I’m not putting my best foot forward with lovely young ladies then. What a shame,” he imparts with some measure of sarcasm. She smiles.

“I take it you are not yourself a man for the sort of gossip that passes between the ears of the sorts of people who congregate at these kinds of events,” Anne confides, feeling a warmth inside of her at finding something of a kindred spirit. Not heartbroken for lack of a man, but for lack of the social graces that they both had to endure - that she could certainly enjoy a night of conversation with.

“And what gives you that idea? Perhaps I’ve as much an ear for the sort of contrivances nobles whisper of at balls and galas as all those women in dresses, giggling at the advances of a boor like the Earl of Carteret,” the duke retorts facetiously, bringing another warm laugh to Anne’s face, already stained red with the pleasure of his humor.

“You ought to still your tongue in such pleasant company,” Anne joked. “You may offend these lovely, eligible women. And then, whatsoever would you do?” she chided playfully.

“The thought of losing the attention of women so taken with the earl wounds me deeply, certainly,” he remarked sarcastically. Anne’s grin turned to a coquettish little smirk; she enjoyed this particular noble’s manner, to say nothing of how she had noticed quite early just how handsome she found him - broad and tall, dark and handsome, with hair neatly-cropped and a virile coat of stubble along his face. She swallowed hard as an awkward silence passed; the two admired one another, and Anne could see the intensity of his gray gaze upon her.

“Why, then, did you find your way here in the first place, then? Invites are quite simple to turn down. Had it not been for the urgings of my father, I would have done just that - and given the host’s propensity for the pretty and the pliable,” she said with a contemptible gaze shot towards the women fawning over the earl, “I doubt my absence would have been too dearly missed.”

“Something tells me your manner would not be quite appreciated by the man at the head of the table, from what I know of him,” the duke retorted. “As for the matter of my presence here - social obligation, I suppose. Had I spent yet another evening cooped away in my estate, I would not have met as fine company as yourself - as awkward as our introduction has thus far gone,” he joked. “That, and Charles and his wife are quite set on finding love for me. A pitiable thought, hmm?” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

“And what offends you of my manner, then, hmm?” Anne cut back haughtily, her smirk growing.

“Oh, certainly nothing of your manner offends me, of course. But the host, and most men of his stature, they think quite differently,” the duke lamented. “There is little appreciation for a woman with a mouth for something other than pleasant giggles, and a mind for something aside from planning for children.” He words brought a tingling, curious thump to Anne’s heart. How could she have found herself so fortunate as to sit next to a man with so radical an idea of womanhood? She blushed, now not out of embarrassment, but from something else - something base, something anxious. Something… good.

“I… agree,” she offered meekly, perhaps the first time in her whole life she had felt humbled by someone. “I feel that—”

“Ah! Lawrence, I hadn’t expected you to attend, what with your predilections and such,” came a voice bursting from behind the two of them, interrupting their tender moment. Canting her gaze over her shoulder Anne recognized the host of the party, a woman at either of his flanks, muscling himself freely into the conversation. “It’s always a pleasure. And who is this lovely thing to your side, hmm?” Anne glanced to the duke and immediately noticed his demeanor had shifted; in the presence of their boorish host his will had withered, and whatever moment had been blooming between them faltered. His expression turned lamentably sour.

“Always a pleasure to be invited,” he grudgingly grumbled. “And to see you having such a time, of course, m’lord. The lady is—”

“Anne Hatley,” Anne interrupted, hoping to perhaps push the dolt from the conversation so that she might speak more with the interesting man to her side.

“And have you a title or status to your name?” the duke asked expectantly, conjuring a chorus of giggles from his young, pretty companions.

“I should think my name alone is worth recognition - reasons of which not the least is that you invited me here,” Anne slashed back, undeterred. “Of course, there’s always the recognition that I am a woman - not just of status or symbol or title, but a woman of my own accord.”

“Aha!” the earl erupted in a chuckle. “What a slurry of curious ideas from a woman!” he balked, his cheeks rosy with the stink of the rueful wine the kitchen had been serving. “A wild heart like that’s not likely to find a husband willing to tame it, am I right, Lawrence?” Anne’s eyes fell upon her erstwhile companion

, whose own gaze had fallen once again aloof and dour, staring into the bowl of soup in front of him.

“I… suppose so,” he said weakly. Anne’s heart fell, struck; painful, her nerves surging with a struggling anxiety. Had he so quickly dismissed his feelings in the earl’s presence?

“Perhaps you ought to tame her, then, Lawrence,” the earl guffawed, as if he expected such a venture to fail miserably. “Just as you did your sister!”

“Your s… sister?” Anne quaked. Warm manner broken and replaced with a shattered winter, the duke’s wallowing gaze fell once more upon Anne.

“It’s n… nothing, simply a family matter,” he said dismissively.

“Nothing? Come now, Lawrence,” the earl goaded. “You ought to be proud of inheriting over her. At least one woman in your life you’ve taught her proper place to, hmm?”

“Boy, your voice could wake Jesus Christ himself,” came a portentous grumble from Sir Gilbert. “Why don’t you keep your imbecilic ideas on gender to yourself and come and speak with myself and these ladies here,” he implored, giving a quick wink Anne’s way when he noticed her discomfort. The ruby-cheeked host gladly obliged, rambling away from the pair and taking up conversation away from them. Ire building in her chest, Anne looked back to the duke, whose gaze had fallen apologetic.

“You… you inherited, over your sister?” she gulped.

“I… had no interest in title, or in wealth, but—”

“But you inherited over her nonetheless,” Anne added bitterly, seeing the parallels with her own situation. “Your sister had no wish for husband, and instead you simply took the estate from her.”

“That’s not how… it’s not how I wanted it to happen,” Lawrence pleaded.

“But that’s how it happened,” Anne concluded, her heart paining her. “You’re a man - as has been so fruitfully displayed,” she spoke in disdain, “here, and everywhere - you hold the power. Why did you not use it to insist your sister inherit instead of yourself?”

“I had every intention, but the law has different ideas,” Lawrence contested.

“Then why did you not fight to change the law?!” Anne exclaimed.