Page 20 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“I see what you are doing, by the way.” He pushed his chair back and stood.

Miss Dowding’s body stiffened, and her eyes flicked over her shoulder as if preparing for her escape. “Doing?”

“Oh, come now,” he sighed as he stepped around the table. “I know as well as you do that you have no desire to be my daughter’s governess, but you do not wish to be the one to say it.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

He rolled his eyes as he approached her which, he realized immediately, was a terrible idea. When he had been seated, it was as if a barrier was erected between them, allowing him to keep his mind focused on the task at head. But the very second that he came closer to where Miss Dowding stood, he was reminded of the very reason he had not wished to be alone with her in the first place.

She did not shy away from him as others did. She did not back down. And while he could sense that she was afraid of him, it was not as if shefearedhim. More that she feared herself and what she might do or say.

Miss Dowding was different to other women. No sense that she cared one whit about his title. No indication that she cared what he thought of her. She was a wall, and he was a charging bull, and as he strode towards her, it became a question of which would buckle first.

“You do not think very highly of me, do you?”

She frowned. “That is your interpretation, not mine.”

“And my daughter?” He stopped short of her, less than three feet away. Often, when he stood this close to a lady, she might take a step backwards or lean away as if his very presence was a force that pushed her back. But Miss Dowding held her place, even pointed her chin as she met his gaze. “Tell me, what do you think of our relationship.”

“I—” She caught her tongue. “I have not seen the two of you together often enough to make a comment on such a thing.”

He laughed. “You think I treat her unfairly.”

“I did not say that.”

“That is the thing about you, Miss Dowding. You have a unique ability to say so much with so few words spoken. Maybe not a mute. …..” He flashed his eyes at her, and her stare hardened. “… but that seems to matter little.”

“And you have a unique ability to purposefully ignore everyone around you, regardless of the common sense they try and provide, because at the end of the day, you have managed to convince yourself that only your opinion matters, so who cares about what anyone else has to say?”

“Like my daughter, you mean?”

“I did not say that,” she spoke through a clenched jaw, that stare of hers filled with fire, “but if that is the way you wish to interpret it, I think that says about as much as anyone else can.”

There it was. That same rancor that she held for him from yesterday. He could see it in her eyes. He could sense it pouring from her very being. Trying so hard not to overstep the line but unable to control herself because she was too stubborn and fiery to do such a thing.

But the line teetered before her, dangerously close. And with the way that she was glaring at him, Frederick felt his own sense of composure slip because, oh, how he wished to see how far he could push her.

“Make no mistake, I love my daughter. All I want is what is best for her.” He stood over Miss Dowding now, looking down ather, unblinking and commanding in a way that would have most shying away.

“You have a strange way of showing it.”

“By asking someone who is clearly perfect for the role to be her governess?”

“And I told you, I would love nothing more. The choice is up to you.”

“Just admit it…” he growled and took a step closer, expecting her to shy away but not at all surprised that she did not. “… you have no desire for the role. You would hate it. Admit it now, and I will happily tell my daughter as such.”

“The only thing I would hate would be having to spend more time with you.” He could sense her body shaking as she worked to keep her emotions under check. “That is a fate worse than any I can imagine.”

“Is that right?” He stiffened.

“Perhaps I should take the role. At least that way your daughter might be afforded a few hours a day where she does not have to worry about a… a bully of a father trying to control every facet of her life.”

“So, you want the job?”

“I. Did. Not. Say. That.”

As a duke, Frederick had been raised to understand that discipline and self-control were not an option in the way that he held himself but as expected as breathing. His coldness and his dispassion were direct consequences of this way of life. It helped too that most people were afraid of him, never standing up to or challenging what he said and wanted. It meant that he was rarely, if ever, tested.

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