Page 21 of The Duke's Hellion

“It was two words,” she volleyed back.

“Quiver?”

“Aquiver.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this about being right or about getting to the truth?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” she winked.

“You’re showing your age, Mimi. That’s one way to deter Roger.”

“Don’t all men prefer a younger woman?”

“Younger? Perhaps. Immature? I think not.”

She wanted to growl at him.

“Calm yourself,” he said while eyeing the room again. It was as though he couldn’t deign to look upon her when she didn’t act the way he wanted her to. “Don’t make a spectacle by growling at me in public.”

“Me make a spectacle? Heaven forbid.” Her voice was increasing in volume.

“I have no qualms walking away from you if you’re going to be immature.”

“Me?” her voice squeaked. And even though she knew she was being immature, her body had a mind of its own around him. “I’ll be as immature as I want. You don’t get to control my actions.” Her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating rapidly. At dinner he was indicating to her that she was acting too mature for her age. Now he was telling her that she was behaving too immaturely. Who the deuce was he to police her behavior? And then she recalled his reactions to her “mature” ways.

So, rethinking her tactics, she pushed her chest out slightly, delighted to see his eyes drop for even a split second. When his eyes traced back up over her lips, she said, “And I’ll be as mature as I want, whenever I deem it convenient.”

“Convenient?” he asked over what sounded like a notch in his throat.

But she didn’t answer him. She winked and walked away. It was the perfect time to get an update from Nobi on her game of whist. Forget Sam and his old beckoning bones.

Chapter Eight

Sam was convincedthat he would not help Mimi secure Roger’s attention if she were the last woman in the galaxy. He had said what he meant and meant what he said. He wouldn’t help her if she begged for it. What kind of woman left her fate up to fate? A jangle of rocks was rolling around in Sam’s belly just thinking about what utter nonsense that was.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that Roger was not the least bit interested in Mimi. And if after last night’s reckless display there was not even the tiniest fraction of a smile or a gaze or more than a few words shared, surely it was clear that there really was no interest to be had. No matter what Mimi did, there was no hope. If Roger wasn’t interested in her brazen opinions, overly competitive nature, and no holds barred approach to life—never mind her shimmering gold locks, suffocatingly vanilla scent, and sky-blue eyes—there was simply no hope of him conjuring it up from nowhere.

But then a pang seared through his heart. He dreaded having to watch Mimi attempt another awkward flirtation. It was like watching a fish out of water. Or watching a cat try to take a bath. No one wanted to be privy to those events. He tried not to think about what the next encounter might be, but he couldn’t help himself. Would she do something completely audacious and ask the man to dance? That would give the ladies something to gossip about. Of course it would depend on how she went about it. Would she simply proffer her hand and expect an invitation?Not likely. This was Mimi. She would be the type to simply ask the question. As if ingrained societal strictures were nothing more than a suggested way of life, and not the living, breathing, executing entity that it was. Still, he could picture her asking Roger to dance.

Or would she try to discreetly ask people about his interests and proclivities? He shuddered at the thought of her attempting a clandestine mission of any kind. She was too…what was the right word to describe someone like her? Someone who always spoke her mind without concern for putting others on the spot. She wasn’t inconsiderate…not quite. But she didn’t let etiquette dictate her behavior like she ought to. She was a genteel lady after all; she should care about her reputation, especially if she was trying to secure a duke.

He resigned himself to watching her make her own bed and then lie in it. Alone. For no clear reason, a shiver trounced up his spine at the thought.

Dash it. He would have to watch the woman compete for affection and lose. She was a competitor. He had seen it firsthand, and he knew the type. Because he was her type. She needed to rise to the challenge, even if she failed. Nothing was worse than watching a flailing attempt at a win. Being witness to her incompetence in this area—especially after seeing her success so gracefully elsewhere—almost made him want to reconsider. But he would not. Even if she fell flat on her face, he would hold his ground, stand by, and let her fall. It was the best way to learn how to win.

There was no other option. She was too young to take any guidance from anold man(her words not his) like him. It rankled that she thought of him as an old man when he was not even a decade her senior. Plenty of men of thetonmarried with a far more disparate age gap. Hell, some seventy-year-old men (balding and toothless) still took a bride in hopes of securing anheir. It was just the way of society. But he could predict how Mimi would feel about that situation.

A snap of a twig brought Sam to the present. The late morning sun shone through the trees, blinding him momentarily. Chris was a few yards ahead walking with Nobi toward the archery activity. After last night’s discussion, Mimi must have convinced Sally to hold an archery tournament of sorts. Despite it being a house party in honor of Sally’s engagement, she was more than happy to oblige a dear friend. So many of the house guests were on their way to the same location where a no-eyed Mimi had beaten him in target practice.

Humiliating.

Rather amusing, though. If he allowed himself to chuckle over how flustered he had been. Not one to usually fall prey to the drama of his day, Mimi had really pounced upon him at his lowest. Or close to it.

No. His lowest had been a different day. Far more tragic events. Not something to ponder in the moment.

Now he had to focus on redeeming himself, for he would enter this silly competition. And win. Of course, that.

THUD!

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