Page 2 of Master of Games
“That was truly dreadful,” she found herself saying out loud before she could hold her tongue back.
“A talking fern?” he turned toward her. “Does your daddy want to marry you off too, Fern?”
She stepped out of the fronds, glaring at the ridiculous duke. “My name is Lady Tabetha, though I hope you do not remember it in the morning. It will prove awkward if you do. And my father has given up marrying me to anyone.”
“Really? And why is that?”
“Because, whatever I am, I’m far pricklier than any fern.”
He tossed his head back and laughed. “A Rose then. With thorns.”
She shrugged. No one considered her a rose. Not anymore. “My nickname is Tabbie. And it suits me just fine. Far less fussy than a rose, while still signifying that I’ve got claws. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Are you leaving?” he asked, quirking a brow.
“No, Your Grace, I was here first.”
“All right?”
“That means you’re to go. Quickly. We wouldn’t want my father to think he’d finally found some marriage loophole for me.” And then she made a shooing motion with her hands. “May we never meet again.” Though she knew they would. They were both guests at her best friend Sophie’s wedding.
He straightened then, his gaze sliding down her. “Oh, I think we might.”
Her nose lifted in the air. She didn’t need the attention of arrogant, rakish dukes.
And even if she did, the shadows surely hid her imperfections. If he’d seen them, he would not say such things…
CHAPTER ONE
Birds chirped throughout the garden, the roses, now in full bloom, perfuming the air.
This was Tabbie’s favorite time to be in Dover. The ocean sparkled, the trees danced, the animals sang.
She drew in a deep breath, cleansing her lungs, the sound of construction disrupting her thoughts. She opened her eyes, frowning at the workers as they banged away on the new teahouse.
What a year it had been.
This summer had been a slow torture, when it was usually a welcome break from the ills of the season.
An image rose in her mind, instantly making her frown.
The Duke of Ironheart.
Dark blond hair, hazel eyes, lean-cut jaw, full mouth, broad shoulders…the man looked like a dream a young girl might have.
And a woman like herself could get caught up in that dream.
Good thing he barely disguised his rakish ways. He drank all the time. She very much doubted she’d ever seen him when he wasn’t drunk or hung over.
He flirted obsessively with every reasonably attractive woman. Except for Tabbie, of course. Then again, she wasn’t reasonably attractive.
She had been, once upon a time, before…Tabbie had been considered a great beauty, but not anymore. She looked down at the sleeves she wore even in summer to cover the scars on her arms.
And that was to her betterment. She was a stronger person, a person of substance.
And besides, she didn’t want Ironheart. She didn’t want any man. But somehow, watching her best friend Sophie marry Ironheart’s best friend Lord Maxwell it had stirred some dormant feelings she’d prefer stay hidden.
Feelings of the life she might have had if only her past had been different.
