Page 22 of Her Ruse with the Wicked Duke
“She is not going to the?—”
“She is. I see that you believe you have some almighty power over her because of your status, but need I remind you that my title far surpasses any title you may hold? She will attend the event with me this evening, and she will have a wonderful time.”
“Forgive me, but you do not own her?—”
“I am courting your sister, Snow,” Rowan said suddenly, and she did not know that she could be more shocked than she already was, but it happened, nonetheless.
Why would he tell Richard that? Doesn’t he know that it will make the situation so much worse? He is already upset that I am getting attention from possible suitors.
“What?” Richard turned to his sister, his pipe beginning to smoke from the neglected tobacco.
Rowan turned to her as well, and she watched as his gaze immediately softened as he pointed with his head to the door, giving her a small smile.
She stood there, frozen, until Rowan finally approached her, and she looked up into his deep gray eyes as he placed his warm hand on her shoulder. “Go get ready. It is all right.”
She bowed her head, feeling tears begin to sting her eyes as she scurried out of the room, avoiding her brother’s gaze like the plague.
Rowan slowly turned back to Richard before speaking in a low voice, “I want you to know that you do not hold any power over her. She is not your petty servant. She is not your maid. She is a lady. Understood?”
Richard’s eyes flicked between Rowan’s before his gaze finally lowered in submission. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Rowan had never felt anger like that before. He had never been put in a position where he had to defend a woman’s honor. But standing roughly a foot over the Baron and watching him cave in gave him an odd pleasure.
He went toward the doorway, turning back to the Baron. “I will be here to defend your sister, Snow. Your understanding of this is critical.”
Without any more words, Rowan exited and made his way to the front door, noticing the chaperone that he recognized from the last party, grinning.
She quickly bowed to him. “Your Grace.”
“Will you be accompanying Miss Snow?” he asked, impatience accidentally seeping into his words.
“Y-Yes, Your Grace. Right away.” She bowed again before leaving him alone.
Rowan made his way back outside to tell his coachman to leave without him and arranged for Alice’s carriage to be ready for their departure, leaning against it and idly looking at his hands to pass the time.
It felt like forever before he finally heard the front doors to Mowbray House creak open, and he looked up to see Alice step out, wearing a beautiful cloud-colored dress that looked oddly familiar.
As she approached him, he felt a knot form in his throat, and he swallowed it quickly.
“Is this the dress you were wearing when we met, Miss Snow? It looks different,” he said, smirking as she approached. “You look magnificent.”
“It was altered, Your Grace. I must thank you for what you did in there.” She bowed her head again, and he stepped toward her. “I cannot express my gratitude enough.”
“You do not need to curtsey when it is just us, Miss Snow. I believe we are past that. Please, inform me if your brother acts so ungentlemanly again.”
“Oh, I could never ask you?—”
“You are not asking. I am telling you.”
She raised her gaze to his, and he could see a hint of a smile spread across her face as she nodded.
ChapterEight
Rowan looped Alice’s arm through his, walking her into the party. “Are you prepared?”
“You do not plan to sweep me away from the Earl again, do you?” She looked up to him, narrowing her gaze playfully.
“No, Miss Snow. I will be by your side for the entire night,” he replied nonchalantly, holding his smile back as he watched her face contort into a confused expression.
