Page 27 of A Duchess Disciplined

“I do not know if I believe you,” Catherine replied. “Maybe you are merely a man who wishes to present himself as strategic when you are not, for I can imagine no man who would wish to be perceived as foolish.”

His Grace’s jaw clenched, and a surge of satisfaction went through Catherine at having successfully vexed him. She was forced to concede that his stormy nature was a little amusing. Catherine had a penchant for saying things which upset men on occasion; that was true. She had never seen one react quite like this, however, and she found that shelikedit.

“I suppose not, but I find that fools reveal themselves quite readily,” the duke said. “By their nature, they are unable to conceal their folly.”

“A good point,” Elias interrupted, as though reminding them that therewereother people present at the table.

Catherine smiled sharply at her brother. “I disagree.”

“Do you?” he asked.

Dorothy looked at Catherine with an expression that might have been faint concern, while Bridget’s eyes gleamed with that sort of dreamy expression that she often had when thinking of something romantic.

“Indeed. I can think of many foolish men, who others believe to be clever,” Catherine replied. “Therefore, your initial assumption is incorrect, Your Grace. Foolish men do not always reveal themselves.”

“Foolish men reveal themselves readily enough to reasonable men,” His Grace countered. “The men you speak of have found even more foolish men.”

“I wonder what that says about parliament, then,” Catherine mused.

The Duke of Sarsen snorted. “Plenty, I assure you.”

“Indeed,” Elias agreed.

“You seem to be in good humor, Your Grace,” Dorothy said, her eyes fixing on Catherine’s face.

“Why should I not be?” he asked. “I am soon to have a wife.”

“We shall see,” Catherine teased. “If Mr. Davies disagrees, you may soon find that you are forced to court me like a proper gentleman.”

From the gleam in his piercing, green eyes, Catherine suspected that His Grace was more likely to throw her over his shoulder and storm away with her as his captive bride than he was to court her.

Admittedly, the image of his hulking form and stern expression softening in the expected ritual of courting and simpering was immensely amusing. Catherine’s lips twitched into a small smile.

No, she could not imagine this man courting anyone. Maybe that was why he was willing to accept her. No other woman would have him. Still, it was thrilling to be chosen—the improper lord and the improper lady. What a pair they would make! The more Catherine thought about it, the more she began to think that being the Duchess of Sarsen might just be a well-deserved fate.

CHAPTER7

Reeds’s solicitor was a slight, simpering man whom William could only describe asdisheveled. A more generous man might have assumed that travel was the reason for the solicitor’s rumpled clothing and disarrayed hair, but William suspected that Mr. Davies was simply a man who lived in a state of general chaos. The man had brown eyes that darted this way and that, as though he anticipated some unknown assailant leaping from behind the door and accosting him.

Still, Reeds would not have employed this timid, pathetic man if he was not intelligent. William crossed his arms and scowled at Mr. Davies, who read the contract with agonizing slowness.

“Well?” William demanded. “It is legitimate, is it not?”

Mr. Davies glanced at Reeds. The three men were alone together in Reeds’s study. Reeds had offered them both brandy. William and Mr. Davies had declined, but Reeds had nonetheless poured himself a glass. William suspected that Reeds was anxious and wanted something to distract from it, for he had drunk little of the brandy and instead paced the floor, swirling the glass in his hand as though he had never seen spirits before.

“What do you think?” Reeds asked softly. “I have never heard of this agreement before.”

“It is your father’s signature,” Mr. Davies confirmed. “I would recognize that anywhere.”

“Is it possible that it is…” Reeds trailed off, shooting William an anxious glance. “A forgery?”

William’s scowl deepened. “A forgery,” he said flatly. “As though I would ever resort to such desperate measures to secure a bride. It is fortunate that we are to be brothers, Reeds, or I would consider such an accusation to be an affront on my honor.”

“I did not mean it like that,” Reeds replied quickly.

“In what manner did you mean it, then?” William asked. “Do you mean to insinuate that my father forged the signature?”

“No,” Reeds muttered.

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