Page 7 of A Duke's Bargain
Dorothy expected outrage, some sort of wild argument from Stephen, for it was how he always was with her. Yet, he didn’t rant at her. Instead, his head bent forward a little, his face so possessed by anger that she actually fidgeted in her seat in surprise.
“What?” she whispered, trying to rouse a response from him.
“Do not scoff at a fine lady just because you are not one, Dorotheo.”
She felt chastised. Praying that her face didn’t flush red, she stared back at him. In truth, she had no problem with a lady of that kind. She just believed every woman should have the choice to be who she wanted to be. The problem was that the description was not the sort of woman she wished to be.
“If you want a wife, Stephen, then let me give some advice of my own.” She found her tongue again, determined to keep talking so he didn’t notice that he had actually hurt her with his words. “Be more empathetic and understanding toward any woman you court.”
“Empathetic? You think I am not?”
“I have known you for ten years,” she huffed. “I know exactly who you are.”
“And you think you could capture a spouse better than I can?” he asked with a sudden bark of laughter. “Outrageous.”
“No. Accurate,” she argued and then folded her arms across her chest. “In fact, I’d wager I could find a husband faster than you could find a wife. At this very stay at Lady Webster’s house.”
“You could not.” He sat back suddenly. “I am certain of it.” He waved a dismissive hand.
“Then what do you say to making it an actual wager?” She lifted an eyebrow at him.
His head jerked sharply her way, and she was startled he did not hurt himself. Then again, he always did everything perfectly and with poise, so what would be the difference now?
“Do not be foolish.”
“I’m not being foolish.” She moved toward the edge of her bench, her hands gripping the cushioned seat. He moved forward, too. Their knees came close to brushing again. “You need a wife, and my brother is determined to see me married, so I might as well look for a husband before he can thrust me into the hands of a man of his choosing. What do you say to this wager becoming a reality?”
“Whoever is the first to be betrothed wins?” Stephen asked, his dark eyebrows furrowing, making his blue gaze intense as always.
She shifted in her seat, quite amazed by the power of that look. “Yes.” She nodded.
“What does the winner get?”
“Pride,” she announced heartily.
“With us, a dangerous thing to win, indeed.” He looked at her, unblinking, his gaze growing so intense as he thought about her offer that she couldn’t help but fidget once more. “Ladies with poise do not fidget all the time, you know.”
“A gentleman who wishes to court a woman should wonder about her mind and not the way she sits,” Dorothy fired back.
Abruptly, Stephen thrust his hand forward. “You have your wager,” he said firmly. “The first to be betrothed wins.”
Dorothy reached forward and shook his hand. She could not remember shaking his hand in the past but was startled by the strength of his large grasp compared to her rather smaller hand.
As they lapsed into silence again, the staggering extent of what she had agreed to washed over her.
How am I to persuade a man to court me?
CHAPTERTHREE
“Ah, Lady Dorothy Stapleton, I am so glad you could make it.”
When Dorothy stepped into the hallway of Lady Webster’s house, she was swooped down upon, and rather reminded of the way a sparrowhawk found its prey, pinning them to the ground.
Lady Webster took her hand with one of her narrow, boney palms, and then she used the other to undo Dorothy’s bonnet for her.
“Here, James, take this.” She thrust the bonnet into the waiting hands of the butler, who she evidently deemed wasn’t doing it quickly enough.
Dorothy tried to offer an apologetic smile to the butler, but he was already retreating with her bonnet, along with Stephen’s frock coat and top hat.
