Page 27 of Never Dare a Duke
“Worthiness itself is meaningless. A person’s actions are all that matter.”
She wondered to what actions he was referring. Surely he had some actions he wished he had not committed. She hadn’t realized she was staring thoughtfully at him for so long until he said, “Miss Shaw?”
She gave a startled laugh. “Gwen’s father believed she should see all of life, from the factories to immigrant housing. As a child, she often played with the children of her father’s secretary. She says she pities you for the responsibilities of being a duke.”
He smiled. “It has been a long time since I’ve been pitied.”
“She believes her charity work would suffer were she to become a duchess.” Abigail did not bring up the fact that for some strange reason, Gwen did not share her attraction to the handsome duke.
He took a deep breath and nodded. “You have certainly made my future decision easier.”
She felt a pang of remorse and anxiety. “Have I…disillusioned you? I would hate to think you felt drawn to Gwen and that you are saddened that she doesn’t return your feelings.”
He gave her a perfunctory smile. “On the contrary. I have always known I would marry for duty and suitability. But a duchess needs to understand and desire the position, not just the man.”
“But…is it not also about love?” she asked softly, then regretted her foolish display of emotion.
“Love, Miss Shaw? How could love play a part in uniting one great house with another? I will be content if my future wife and I tolerate each other well enough, and if she understands the need for decorum.”
“Tolerate?” she echoed, fascinated. “But…do you notbelievein love?”
Why ever was she goading him? What did this matter to her article? Then she reminded herself that to write authentically about him, she should know everything she could.
And she found herself far too fascinated—and sad—to stop.
“Love?” Now he was the one echoing her, and he wore a smile that said he was the one pitying her. “There is too much at stake to hope for something so remote, so ephemeral. Your friend Lady Gwen seems to understand what is at stake. But not you? Or do you believe you will be lucky enough to marry for love?”
“I hope to, Your Grace,” she said in a quiet voice. “I was told that your parents fell in love and did not care that your mother would not suit Society’s expectations.”
“My parents were a rarity, Miss Shaw,” he said.
She saw him glance fondly at his mother, who was speaking with Lady Swarthbeck.
“And you do not think you can repeat their success?” she asked.
His gaze returned to her face. “Success?”
She was startled to realize that perhaps he did not think their marriage a success. His parents had love and children and security—was that not enough? For a moment, she and the duke simply looked at each other, and there suddenly seemed to be a chasm between them, but not of stations so much as expectations. Love wasn’t important, but “understanding decorum” was. She didn’t know what to think.
Suddenly the butler intoned that dinner was served.
Abigail smiled awkwardly. “Well, though we might not believe in stations separating us, I do believe you must lead the highest-ranking lady into dinner.”
“And that would be my mother,” he said. “Unless the queen is here.”
“Does she visit you often?”
He shrugged. “Once or twice a year.”
With awe, Abigail watched him take his leave of her. She took a quick, startled breath when he glanced back at her over his shoulder. He smiled in far too intimate a manner.
As if they were coming to an understanding.
Abigail remained alone, knowing she was being looked at, spoken about, with curiosity, surprise, or envy. At last Mr. Wesley came to join her, the lowest man of rank, to match her as the lowest female.
He looked about. “So, you seem to be of interest this evening. You have succeeded in capturing the attention of the duke.”
She wanted to say that it didn’t mean anything, that it wasn’t true. But her ruse did not allow her. She could only smile and blush—and feel a bittersweet triumph.
