Page 23 of If the Duke Dares
“Not at all. I only pretended to be interested in you.”
“Is that true?” He shook his head. “I completely misread that—and you. I confess that troubles me. I pride myself on discerning people.”
She felt a little sorry for him, for he seemed genuinely surprised and mayhap even a little wounded. “I can’t believe I’m the first person who is impervious to your efforts.”
“You might be, actually.” He appeared to be considering that. Persephone worked to not roll her eyes. Blinking, he refocused on her. “Why did you dump wine on me?”
“I should think it was obvious. I didn’t want to marry you, and that was the best way I could think to deter you.”
He laughed. “That doesn’t make sense. I didn’t even know who you were. In fact, we hadn’t introduced ourselves at all. Honestly, I found the mystery provocative.” He paused, studying her intently. “How did you know who I was?”
“You said your home was near Stratford-upon-Avon, and when you said you were going there to meet a potential bride, I deduced that you had to be the man I was supposed to meet. I also knew the Duke of Wellesbourne to be an overconfident, swaggering rake, and you certainly fit that description.”
He put his hand to his chest. “You strike a dagger directly into my heart.”
Persephone did not stop herself from rolling her eyes this time. “On second thought, I will dine with you. I shall request a bottle of Madeira so that I may pour the entire contents over you.”
The corner of his mouth ticked up, and she wanted to laugh with him. This was an entirely ridiculous conversation. Except she didn’t laugh. And in this situation particularly, she couldn’t encourage him. It was why she continued to treat him so poorly. She needed him to leave her alone.
“Then I shall also ask for a bottle,” he said. “We can circle each other and try to land our respective drenchings on our targets.”
The image provoked a small snort to leap from Persephone’s nose. She immediately brought her hand to her face and looked away.
“I like it when you snort,” he whispered. “It’s endearing.”
She shot him a look of surprise. Was he serious? She couldn’t tell. “Now I know you’re being insincere and merely trying to charm me. Or seduce me. I can’t think of another reason you would come looking for me without telling my parents we met.” And yet, she still couldn’t reconcile him wanting to do that—she was not the sort of woman a man like him seduced. She attracted overeager curates or second sons with nothing better to do on their school holiday than dally with a naive bluestocking. Those being the first and second men she’d kissed.
“I promise, I did not seek you out for seduction.” His tone was completely sincere, and she was actually disappointed by that. It might have been nice if he’d wanted to, even if she had no intention of surrendering to his advances.
“I want to be sure I understand,” he continued. “As soon as you determined my identity, you feigned interest—you quite provokedmyinterest—then soaked me with Madeira. And this was because you knew of my reputation and had already decided we would not suit because of it. Is that why you didn’t accompany your parents to Loxley Court?”
“Yes, that is a fair summation.”
“And here I wondered if you were perhaps meeting a gentleman for an assignation. I should have realized that didn’t make sense. A woman who dislikes rakish behavior would certainly never participate in a scandalous situation.” He noted the slightest flare of her nostrils and wondered at the cause of it.
“I am not meeting anyone. I am trying to avoid marriage toyou.”
He straightened. “You should not believe everything you hear about people. I am not the rake I’m purported to be. It is unfortunate that you didn’t care to at least meet me, for I believe we may actually have suited. You possess an admirable spirit.”
She batted her lashes, copying the way the maids had gazed at him. “To think you might have chosen me! I may swoon.” She pressed her hand to her forehead.
“Go right ahead. I will catch you,” he said with considerable cheer, as if he hoped she would faint into his arms.
With relief, Persephone noted Becky coming toward her bearing a tray. “Dinner for Mrs. Birdwhistle,” she said, handing it to Persephone before winking at Wellesbourne.
Persephone expected her to stay and bat her eyes some more, but she carried on, bustling to a table with three men who roared with approval when she arrived. Clutching the tray, Persephone inclined her head toward the duke. “I’ll bid you good evening, then.”
He exhaled in a distinctly disappointed fashion. “I suppose I shall have to dine alone.”
“I doubt that. I’m confident Becky or Moll or that pretty red-haired woman would love to keep you company.”
“I’ll dine alone. Near the stairs, so I can make sure you aren’t bothered.”
Persephone hadn’t considered that. “You won’t have to look after me much longer. I’ll be on my way in the morning.”
His brows rose. “Oh? Where are you going?”
“Home.”
