Page 25 of His Ruined Duchess
“A dance?” he scowled, his tone as biting as ever. Still, Selina would not relent. The Duke would understand. She knew it.
“Indeed.” She nodded at him, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. “One of manipulation and negotiation.”
With that, Selina saw the change in the man’s stare. He considered her. He slowed, his temper receding, as he took in what she was saying for once. Taking a step back from her, the Duke folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Explain.”
Selina sighed, but at least she was getting somewhere with him. “A good businessman, like yourself, has certainly played a part in keeping a client satisfied with their work. They will gather facts about a situation and competitors and use them to encourage a potential or current customer to follow the path they want them to take. Yes?”
The Duke nodded but said nothing else.
“It is the same in the ton. A Duke must know how to play the game, how to sell himself to the ‘customers’ among the ton. Particularly,” Selina eyed him, leaning forward and encouraging her point with the flare of intensity she conjured in her stare, “if he wants to marry off three ladies at breakneck speed. You are ‘selling’ our hand, looking for a good ‘buyer.’ And any snake oil salesman or aristocrat can tell you that when someone considers an offer, it isyouthey are considering more than anything.”
“You openly discuss yourself like a commodity? I had thought you would dislike such a thing, Selina.”
“I do. But I am not a fool. I have learned how to play this game. I have been dealt a hand of cards, and I will do the best that I can with them. End of story.”
She spun on her heel, her head held high and her spine straight as a whip, before calling out over her shoulder.
“I suggest you do the same.”
From behind her, Selina could make out the sound of the Duke’s light chuckle then the sound of his door opening and closing. That would certainly give him something to think about.
Selina was lying across her bed, having stripped off the clothes she wore to the garden party to prepare for bed. She’d dismissed her maid, and alone in the comfort of her room, she should be falling asleep, but her mind circled over today’s events endlessly.
What is underneath all that stoicism the Duke wears? There is something going on there.
Turning onto her side, Selina cast her glance at the dimly flickering flames that warmed her hearth. It wasn’t a strong fire, and the chances of it going out completely were rather profound. She could exit the bed and tend to it as she had numerous times, but she could not pull herself from the covers.
There was so much going through her head, her mind running over the events of the garden party at Amelia’s estate and the conversation with the Duke when they arrived home. She did not regret standing up to the man in the slightest, but Selina could not help but wonder what it was about his perceived “bowing” to the men of the ton that upset him so.
It was clear she’d hit a nerve there.
Selina recalled what she had heard from Lydia about the man, the rumors her sisters and mother had been discussing after their ball.
The only child of a solicitor. He has no siblings, and from what I recall, he did not speak to his father before the man’s death.
It was clear with just that understanding that the Duke had likely grown up relying entirely on himself. Was that what it was? His rigidity was centered around the fact that he could not accept asking for help or even appearing to do so.
Using people’s titles and reputations to your own benefit was standard practice among the ton. Gaining an inch in your life was all about who you knew and where they could take you. Selina could understand that that might upset a man who had been so focused—and very likely forced to be—on being self-reliant.
“This is ridiculous. I need… I need to talk this out with someone.”
Selina sat upright in her bed, flinging the covers aside and heading straight to the door. Stealing herself down the hallway, she took it to Myra’s room and knocked gently. It was only a moment before her sister answered.
“Selina?” Myra rubbed her eyes, clearly drawn from her sleep. “What are you doing here?”
“Forgive me, Myra. I… Could we step inside to talk?”
Selina held her clenched hands in front of her chest, pleading with her sister to let her into the room. Myra sighed, a slight grin touching her lips, and then stepped aside, gesturing into her bed chambers.
“All right. Come in then. But you will not keep me up all night. I get enough of that from Lydia.”
Chuckling lightly, Selina stepped inside and joined Myra on her bed, facing her sister like they’d done when they were young girls.
“Thank you.” Selina smiled, squeezing Myra’s hand. “I am just… I am trying to figure out the Duke. Why is he so awful to the people we must interact with and appeal to if we are all going to be wed? He’s making the prospect so much more difficult than it needs to be, and there must be a reason.”
“You wish to gossip about the Duke?” Myra looked at her in shock. “Why have you not gone to Lydia then?”
