Page 5 of Taken By the Dangerous Duke

“What were you doing?” she scolded.

“That man saved me,” said Billy, pointing back at the duke.

“Thank you, sir,” said the woman, nodding toward the duke.

Arthur nodded back with a smile, glad that the boy was well. There had been a few times through his childhood years where he had fallen from a tree, but never from that height.

Arthur gave a more sheepish grin. He was still sitting on the bench, and the crowd was still gathered around him as if he were a magician who had another trick up his sleeve.

And then the smile left his face. He spotted her in the crowd—a face he never expected, nor hoped to see again. His displeasure was mirrored on her face, the face of the woman whose name he did not even know. Her face had been red the previous day, but only her cheeks were today, and while she had lost her smile, she still looked happy—a stark contrast to how she had been only twenty-four hours previously. It was like looking at a different woman.

She turned to the friend she was with, whispered something, and the two of them walked away. Arthur was glad; he did not want to have a run-in with that woman again. He sat for a moment and watched her walk off. She looked much more petite now that she was out in the open and not commanding a doorway.

Don’t be so boorish,he told himself.She might have been rude, but you were certainly not polite yourself.

Arthur sighed. He was nothing if not a man of good moral character, and he knew he could not leave London with this forever in the back of his mind. He pushed himself up from the bench and strode after the woman, glad that she was not alone or he would feel he was stalking her.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said as he got close.

“Yes?” asked the woman when she turned, the same scowl from the previous day returning to her face. “If you expect me to apologize to you because you have a title, then you are sorely mistaken. And do not claim that I was the one who antagonized. You were as much—”

“I know, I know.” Arthur had his hands up in front of him. “I know how I acted yesterday, and I understand why I got under your skin. I wanted to apologize to you for how I acted. My head was not in the right place yesterday, and I fear I took that on you, Miss…?”

“Oh,” she replied. “I thought that—”

“Margaret, where are your manners,” said the second woman, nudging her friend. “I am sorry, my lord. My friend, Margaret often forgets her manners.”

“Miss Margaret,” said Arthur.

“Cynthia, we do not need to—” started Margaret, but the duke was already introducing himself.

“I am Lord Bolton,” he said stoically.

“The Duke of Garriot,” added Margaret, her voice softening a little.

“Yes,” agreed Arthur.

“Your Grace,” said Cynthia quickly, realizing just what title the man had. She turned to Margaret with wide eyes.

“Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to address me as “Your Grace,” quipped the duke.

“I…,” started Margaret.

Cynthia continued to stare at her friend, and an inquisitive smile appeared on her face.

“Anyway, I only wanted to come over and apologize for my character yesterday. It was not becoming of me, and I should not have taken out any of my personal problems on you.”

“No,” whispered Margaret.

“I will take my leave and allow you two ladies to continue with your day.” The duke tipped his hat toward them both and turned to leave.

“That was quite something you did back there,” said Margaret. “Saving the boy. We saw him from afar, and ran toward him, hoping we might be able to help, but he fell before we could get close, and we could not see what happened because the crowd was in the way. When I saw him in your arms, I was pleased. What you did was admirable.”

“It is only what anyone would do,” said the duke.

“You would think. Perhaps it is different in the countryside where you are from, but in London, sometimes people like to keep to themselves.”

“How did you know I was—oh, yes, I did mention I had come up here from York. Someone was paying attention.”

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