Page 47 of The Duke's Spinster

“Perhaps I do, with the right opponent.”

“I’m wounded.”

There was no maliciousness that she could detect, but there was something askew in his questions. Almost as if he were hinting at a secret.

“I hadn’t intended to wound you, Your Grace,” Boudicca said, wanting to tread carefully, but also keep the conversation open.

“Those are sometimes the deepest cuts. The unintentional ones.”

“I rather doubt this is one of those times,” she said wryly.

“Perhaps you are right. I do suppose it has to be with the right opponent.” He smiled.

“Touche.” His jest seemed to be made in good faith, not in any way mocking.

“Our time is coming to a close soon, so I shall just leave you with a single word.”

He did have a secret. It was clear now. But leaving her with a word? For what purpose? To what end? And what was the word going to be? How would she know if she interpreted it correctly?

A million questions flew through her mind, none of them landing, all of them in a flock, banding together.

And then he dropped a single word. It was the one word she had been plagued with since her time with the duke began. It was, perhaps, the only word the Duke of Cadmore could have voiced that would have thrown her for such a loop as it did.

“Motive.”

*

“I saw yourdance with Samuel, Duke of Cadmore.” Wesley caught up to her just before it was time to go in for dinner.

“Yes.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Did I? That’s good to hear because I don’t like him, and I wasn’t sure I was disguising it very well.”

“Nobody likes him.”

“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“We put up with him.” He shrugged.

A dance ago, she was absolutely sure of her decision. Now observing him with a cagey expression, she had regressed. She wanted to shrug it off similarly to how he had just done. Perhapsthe best approach was the direct one. That was her modus operandi, why change it?

“Samuel mentioned something.”

“Oh?” Wesley’s eye flickered across the crowd, neglecting to give her his full attention.

“Yes, it was quite off-putting.”

His eyes kept scanning, as discreetly as he could.

“Surreptitious, one might say.”

The furtive glances ceased, and his eyes narrowed in reaction to her. “He was being cryptic? About what?”

“Isn’t that the point in a secret? One party doesn’t know what the other does.”

He nodded. “So what did he say?”

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