Page 31 of Married to the Forbidden Duke
Alice curled a brow. “That seems a little presumptuous.”
“Our father died several years ago,” Helena said almost in a whisper. “Since then, it has been Thomas’s duty to care for me.”
“Men and their duties.” Alice rolled her eyes. “Though I am astonished he would encourage you to be friends with me.”
“But you are a Duchess,” Helena furrowed her brows.
“Oh, only because I forced the Duke into marrying me. Surely you’ve heard the rumors? I interrupted his wedding to another lady, and to preserve his honor—and mine,” she admitted begrudgingly, “he proposed a marriage.”
“Is that what you wanted?” Helena’s pretty brown eyes were wide. “To marry him?”
“Not in the slightest,” Alice said with a laugh. “But it was what he decided was best, and I doubt anything in the world—heaven nor earth—could have stopped him. As he is close with your brother, I imagine they are the same.”
“Oh, I don’t see it that way at all,” Helena said earnestly. “From where I’m standing, the Duke is willing to do whatever you say at the drop of a hat. My brother says…” She broke off, her cheeks flushing.
“Yes?” Alice prompted, curiosity getting the better of her. “What does your brother say?”
“Oh, well, he said it to me in confidence, and I don’t know if I should repeat it.”
Alice chewed the inside of her lip, wondering if this girl might actually be her way into knowing the Duke’s true opinions. But pushing her luck wouldn’t get her very far, either. Obviously, Helena was afraid of everything, up to and including her own shadow.
Alice felt a sudden wave of protective fondness for the lady. Although they didn’t know each other, she saw so much of herself as she had been before her accident. In awe of everything, and afraid to put a foot wrong in case that might condemn her by accident. Afraid of letting her family down.
Now she had no such scruples. But she remembered what it felt like to suffer under them.
“Enough about your brother, then,” Alice said, clapping her hands. “For some reason, he has decided we ought to be friends, and I can see no reason why we should not be. I haven’t been in London in quite some time, and I’m sure you know far more about Society than I do now. You shall have to teach me.”
“Oh no—” Helena protested, her blush now reaching her hairline. “You are aDuchess. I could never.”
Alice almost snorted. “I may be a Duchess now, but I assure you, I was not born one. If the Duke will marry me, he would marry anyone, andthatis no compliment toward myself.” She gave a winning smile. “What sort of things do you enjoy? And do you have any beaus?”
“No beaus,” Helena said shyly, “or at least, none that my brother would approve of.”
“And is your brother marrying them?”
Helena gave a burst of laughter, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I should hope not.”
“Well, then. He can advise you, of course, but the final decision should always be yours.” Alice smiled, but her stomach twisted viciously.
She had no other beaus, no other options aside from the Duke, but she’d not had those freedoms. Still, she wouldn’t give Helena a chance for her brother to be overbearing. The girl was sweet and would do well in a marriage where her husband loved her. Alice suspected the Earl knew very little of love.
“But we shall not speak about him any longer. If no beaus, what other things do you enjoy?”
“I like reading. Novels.Romances.” Once again, Helena glanced at her brother as though he would overhear and deride her tastes.
“And so you should,” Alice nodded succinctly. “I used to read all the time. Before my accident”—she gestured at her leg—“and when I was recuperating, I found there was little else to do with my day other than read. I used to enjoy it excessively. And the men in romance literature are alwayssosuperior to those in real life.”
She made no attempt to lower her voice, and the Duke glanced over, his head tilted. She thought she saw a smile play across his mouth, which irritated her because she had intended to wound him a little.
“And yet,” the Duke commented as he leaned over, “if I were to say the women in books were more beautiful than real life, you would abuse me soundly.”
Alice glanced across at him. His gaze was on her, humor dancing in the depths of his eyes.
“And so I should! What can mere descriptions do compared to a face in the flesh? But a gentleman’s appeal in books is due to his actions, which can be read about and seen just as clearly in fiction and real life.”
“You mean to say you have never been swayed by a handsome face?” he asked, his arm casually draped over the back of his chair.
“Of course not. Have you?”
