Page 3 of A Villain for a Duke

“Why yes, of course you are.”She squeezed the girl’s clammy hand.“Perhaps you two can show me your favorite place to play.”

Charles’ eyes lit up.“Follow me,” he bellowed as he took off down the green grass.All children should be as carefree and happy as these two were, Astrid mused.Then he was shouting more things as he went, but her attention was drawn downward to Isabelle.

“Come on.Let’s go.He won’t slow down for us.”Isabelle’s solemn face spoke from experience, as this was likely a daily encounter.Astrid recalled many memories of herself chasing after Isaac at their childhood home.She was lucky to have him.

“I know what that’s like.I have an older brother too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.And he’s one of my best friends.”

As the two skipped down the green, Isabelle scrunched up her face.“Charles is not my best friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He gets mad at me all the time.”

Astrid threw her head back in laughter.“That’s exactly what an older brother is supposed to do.I think you’re right on track for him to be your best friend.”

Isabelle yanked on Astrid’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

“Do you really think he likes me?”

“No.”She picked up the girl and swung around.“He’s your brother.He doesn’t just like you, he loves you, silly.”

Isabelle’s squeal warmed her heart.This was much better than resting in her guest bedchamber alone.

Chapter 2

THEDUKEOFTINSDER’Scarriage had rolled up to the manor significantly earlier than he expected.He was prompt.Always early.But this was a bit too early.He almost felt uncomfortable.But Michael was a duke, he wouldn’t permit himself to convey any discomfort.For he was also extremely intentional with his actions.To the point of being punctilious.

Michael tugged on his greatcoat, straightening the lines.He took a brief moment to admire the topiary and the giant fountain his carriage had rounded moments earlier.Then he sauntered up the front steps.

When the butler greeted him at the door, Michael insisted on making no fuss.

“I’m quite early, please convey my apologies to Lady Erewyn.”

The butler bowed.“Of course, Your Grace.”

“We have your room ready for you—”

“No need.I’ll see myself to the library for now.I’m too early to make any demands on you or the countess.”

“Certainly, Your Grace.”

Michael walked the faintly familiar manor until he found the room he was looking for.He had visited a few times in the past, and remembered the large library, in particular, for the surfeit of philosophy tomes it housed.When he entered, he felt at home by the pleasant smell of books.He was surprised that he remembered the giant window which was conducive to corralling loose contemplations.The unmoving landscape was the ideal backdrop.It imposed no distractions while he stood at the helm of his mind and steered through his stormy thoughts.

Contending with philosophical theories was much like trying to hold water in one’s hand.But the compulsion to navigate those waters and cling to what he could still remained urgent within him.

So Michael sat in the library readingDiscourse on the Methodby Descartes.Nonobservantly, he was staring out the large window as he mulled over the phrase, je pense donc je suis.Metaphysics, in particular, always made Michael introspective.And the French philosopher, Ren Descartes was a leading theorist, even almost a hundred and fifty years later.That phrase would surely endure through time.

I think, therefore I am.

Michael explored the phrase for what felt like the hundredth time.How could a person go through the motions of doubt if they did not exist?What was existence?What was reality?He must be real enough…if he was able to doubt that he was real…

It felt circular.

What was real?That he was a duke.That he had to marry if he wanted his lineage to continue.That finding a wife was a curse.Every woman wanted him.That was not a vain thought.It was objective.He was a wealthy, young, handsome duke with all his teeth, and in his right mind.All of the time.He was not impulsive.He was in complete control of his thoughts and actions.With great intention, he focused his thinking to adhere to logic.

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