Page 8 of If the Duke Dares
He thought of the woman who would be waiting when he arrived at Loxley Court. She was the daughter of a baron, and the baroness was a friend of his mother’s. Because Acton had rarely seen his mother during the past twenty-three years, he didn’t know these people at all. That the dowager had taken an interest in helping him find a bride was both surprising and, if he were honest, unsettling. She’d never bothered with him before. Not until his father had died.
Acton missed him. In the year his father had been gone, Acton had realized all the things he hadn’t learned, things he’d taken for granted thinking his father had decades before him. But an attack of his heart had stolen him swiftly, and Acton had spent the intervening days and months trying to be the duke his father expected.
He was fairly certain he fell short. Marrying and providing an heir would go a long way to fulfilling his duty—and making his father proud.
Noting that she was watching him intently, Acton realized he’d been woolgathering. He stuffed a bite of parsnip into his mouth.
“You’re on your way to meet a potential bride?” she asked, sounding far more interested than she had yet.
“Yes.” He didn’t really want to discuss it with her. He was enjoying their conversation and preferred to leave his potential duchess where she resided—in the future. “Where are you headed?”
“Pardon me if I don’t say. I find it’s better for a woman on her own to guard her secrets.”
Secrets. That single word provoked Acton’s curiosity like none other.
“I can understand that, but I promise you are safe with me,” he vowed intently.
She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe that in the slightest, but said nothing. Had he done something to offend her? Was it the mention of a potential bride? Had she felt an instant connection with him that made her feel…jealous? That seemed absurd. And yet, Acton couldn’t deny that something about her intrigued him. He’d called her beautiful, but that wasn’t exactly right. She was singular—it was those eyes. Yes, those eyes held a wealth of secrets, and he wanted to learn every single one of them.
She tapped her finger on the base of her wineglass once. Twice. “What will you do if you meet this woman and she’s not to your liking? I mean, if you determine you won’t suit.”
“Then we’ll go our separate ways with nothing lost.” Acton took another bite of the beef. After swallowing, he asked, “Have you been widowed long?”
“About a year.” She set her utensils down. Oh no, was she done eating? He didn’t want to lose her company.
“I’m sorry for your loss. No children?”
She shook her head. “We weren’t married long.”
“I wouldn’t have thought so. You seem young. I’d wager not even five and twenty.”
“You do like to wager,” she said, perhaps with a hint of reproach.
That was how he and his friends talked to one another, and there was a stupid amount of wagering between them. Not all of it was for money. They wagered silly antics or to obtain things they wanted. Once, he lost a bet with his friend Bane and had to attend Almack’s with him.Andhe’d had to ask three wallflowers to dance. It was bloody awful.
“Bad habit with friends, I suppose.” He wished he’d wagered with her after all. If he’d won—and they did seem at least friendly—his prize could have been her staying with him until he was at least finished eating.
She set her napkin on the table, another signal that she was finished with her meal. And her wineglass was almost empty.
“I hope you aren’t going to leave,” he said. “I’d be honored if you’d remain here, at least until I’m finished.”
“Do you really dislike being alone?”
“Somewhat. But it’s more than that. I like you. I feel as if we are on our way to being friends. I should like to deepen our acquaintance.” Acton was torn between wanting to be done with his dinner so he could focus entirely on her and prolonging the meal to ensure she stayed.
Her brow arched in that saucy fashion once more. He liked it. “Deepen it how?”
Was she using a seductive tone? Or was he just hoping she had?
“However we like,” he said casually, despite the increased speed of his heartbeat.
She batted her lashes. “I see.” Now she sounded demure. But perhaps she really was flirting with him. God, he hoped so. He had a sudden image of whiling away what could have been a perfectly boring evening with this thoroughly tempting widow.
“You should finish eating,” she murmured, jolting him from his lurid waking dream.
Acton took a large bite of the beef while glancing at the door to ensure it was closed. Too bad he couldn’t lock it.
He watched as she finished her wine. “Would you care for Madeira?”
