Page 36 of The Duke Who Dared Me
“I’ve heard you enjoy a ride every morning in Hyde Park.In fact, I have it on great authority that you have a wonderful stable at your estate in Kent.”
Alistair turned, peering down at Lady Clara and her smile.It was so…unoffending.
From across the table, Verity’s laugh rang out as she argued with Lord Rackham about agricultural reform.Her cheeks were flushed.
He was furious with himself for noticing.Or how, after she sipped her claret, her lips drew his mind to thoughts of kissing her.Of tasting her.
“A woman can’t possibly understand such matters, Miss Baxter,” Lord Rackham said.The older man cleared his throat, then nodded to Alistair, as if looking for a sign he agreed.
“I find your position rather narrow, my lord,” Verity replied.“Perhaps you could explain which feminine deficiency prevents me from understanding crop rotation.”
Christ, she was magnificent.
Alistair studied his plate in an attempt to hide his grin, before returning his attention to Lady Clara discussing the stable at her family seat in Yorkshire.He nodded along, trying his best to remain focused on her and not on the conversation escalating across the table.All the while, he was trying to imagine thirty years of this.Thirty years of pleasant agreement.Of never being challenged or surprised.
Of never feeling his pulse quicken at the very sound of her voice.
He caught Verity’s eye just then from across the table.Her look could have flayed him alive, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
He hated himself for it.
“Crop rotation presents soil depletion,” Verity continued.“Any competent farmer knows that.Gender has nothing to do with understanding basic agriculture.”
Lord Rackham’s cheeks brightened to a fearsome red.“Miss Baxter, really…”
“Mis Baxter is quite right.”
The words tumbled out of Alistair’s mouth before he could stop himself.Every head at the table turned his way, his mother carefully observing him under her cool blue stare.
“I’ve implemented similar methods on my properties in Kent and have been met with a lot of success.”
The silence stretched, and Lady Clara’s smile faltered.
Verity stared at him, something unreadable flickering across her face.
“How progressive, Your Grace,” Lady Clara finally added to break the awkward hush over the dinner crowd.“Though I confess such matters are quite beyond my understanding.”
That didn’t sit well with him, how quickly she made herself small to please others.
“Perhaps it needn’t be,” he said quietly.
Mrs.Asquith cleared her throat.“Have I mentioned how much I enjoyed Miss Farthington’s performance at the opera?I visited last week and thought the whole spectacle was delightful.”
Thankfully, the conversation shifted, and Alistair returned to his mutton.But the damage was done.He’d shown his hand.
And from the way the other guests kept glancing between him and Verity, everyone knew it.
CHAPTER8
When a porcelain figure is mended, is it a gesture of courtship, or a warning that hearts, like figurines, do not always survive unscathed?
- The Polite Observer
The problemwith almost firmly being on the shelf was that, after one’s first Season, they all became the same endless, boring parade of dinner parties and teas and balls.
Her patience for it all had dried up years ago.
Tonight’s dinner with the Asquiths was no different.
