Page 7 of The Duke Who Dared Me
She straightened, pleased with herself.“To think it only took twenty-three years for you to admit as much.”
“It’s hardly a secret.”
Verity rolled her eyes, then dove for the tray of tea sandwiches.She popped one into her mouth.“Look, it’s best to be honest here.I don’t want a husband, and you don’t want to deal with me.And since you know I won’t make it easy, we should strike a deal.”
Alistair gripped his forehead and groaned.“Darling…”
Verity neatly nipped at her finger, forgetting she no longer held her sandwich at the long curl of that word.She was certain it was meant to disarm her.
“Long night, Alistair?”She sat up straight, then leaned closer, observing how red his eyes were.
“Haven’t been to bed.”
“Poor dear.”
“I will arrange for you to meet a group of bachelors.You will find a match this year and marry at the end of the Season.”
“Or else?”
“Your brother can no longer support you, given the family’s debts.”
She smacked the table, then jumped to her feet.“That traitor.I still help manage this household.”
“I think he would ship you off to a convent personally, but being a companion to your dear old Aunt Francis in Plymouth wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
“Aunt Francis?I swear to heaven she howls at the moon, Alistair.No, don’t you dare laugh!”Verity narrowed her eyes on the brute.He was enjoying this, no doubt.“I won’t agree or play nice.If I’m to be put on a shelf, what makes you think I won’t first cause a scandal?”
Alistair’s jaw ticked.He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and pinned her with a stare so angry she swore he’d set fire to the drapes.“Maybe I should make this clear.It’s not optional.That is what is happening.I’ve been tasked with finding you a husband.”
She stepped back onto the carpet, fighting against the lump lodged in her throat.She could cry later and scream into every pillow in her bedchamber.But she’d never stoop so low as to let him see her so affected.This wasn’t just about marriage.It was about being dismissed, displaced.Outgrown.Worse, forgotten.
“You know what your problem is, Your Grace?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“You think you’re impossible to resist.You think I will cave to your every whim because you walk through this world like you’re a king.”
“No, Miss Baxter,” he said smoothly.“I know I am.”
That did it.
She licked her lips, a thin, wicked grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.“Fine.Let’s make a wager, then.”
Alistair’s gaze flicked down to her mouth and stayed there, just long enough to be noticed.Just long enough for a shiver to chase down her spine.
His brow arched.“A wager.”
“Since you’re so confident in your charm, let’s see which of us lands an engagement first.”
“You think you could secure a husband before I could secure a wife, Miss Baxter?”
“I know I could.”She tilted her head, fighting back the giddy urge to dance at the way he squirmed in his seat.“Unless you’re frightened.”
“Of failing?Of you?”He stood, skirting around the table to approach her.“Never.But really, marriage?Any fool with a title can find a wife, and darling, need I remind you?I’m a duke.No, the terms would need to be different.”
Verity didn’t miss the warm, whisky cadence of his words as he slipped in that endearment.Even if he meant it condescendingly.She narrowed her eyes, fighting back the flutter in her chest.“Such as?”
He smiled, slow and self-assured.“Love.I’ll find someone I can truly fall for.”He nodded toward her.“And you find some poor sod brave enough to weather your temper and sharp tongue past the wedding breakfast.”
