Page 27 of The Duke Who Loved Me (The Duke's Estates 1)

“They are to be married in May,” said his sister, speaking to James as if he had no brains at all.

James had never heard of this fellow duke. He tried to imagine the man who had chosen to live with those eyebrows for the rest of his life. And then forgot all about him as Cecelia returned. Without Prince Karl, thankfully. “The music is about to begin,” she said.

“May I find you a chair?” James answered. He offered his arm.

“We should all sit tog—” began Miss Moran. But James pulled Cecelia away before she could finish her sentence. He looked for the prince and saw that he had been accorded a place in the front ranks of the gilt chairs set out for the audience. Triumphantly, he led Cecelia to a pair of seats near the very back.

“I had intended to remain with my friends,” she said.

“Surely you see enough of them? They seem to be constantly about these days.”

Cecelia sighed. “Will you complain about them now?”

“I do not complain! That was, and is, an unfair accusation.”

“I don’t want another argument, James. Let us listen to the music.”

“There is no music.”

“When it begins, in a moment,” said Cecelia, exasperated.

He started to reply, stopped, started again, stopped.

Cecelia waited through this uncharacteristic wavering, puzzled.

“You are right,” he said.

“I beg your pardon? Did you actually say…?” She gave him a wide-eyed stare. “Could you repeat that? I cannot have heard you correctly.”

He brushed aside her teasing. “You are right that we shouldn’t argue. I don’t wish to do so. I came tonight only to spend time with you. I am determined to show you that we are an ideal match.”

“James, you must abandon this idea of marriage. I have told you…”

“Because of Prince Karl?”

“Ah,” said Cecelia. Much suddenly became clear.

“Is it?” he demanded. If she said yes, he didn’t know what he would do. Something extreme.

“I see now,” she said.

“See? What is that supposed to mean?”

She knew him so well. She had watched him grow from fifteen to manhood. She knew he had taken to sport because he was an instinctive fighter. Perhaps due to his dictatorial father, he saw life as a series of battles to be waged, opponents to be vanquished. “It means, I understand,” she said. “You had this silly notion of marrying me. I’m sure you would have dropped it quite soon, even though my refusal goaded you. But now another man has shown some slight interest. And so you’ve turned this into a contest. As you are so prone to do. And you will not give up until you ‘win.’ But this is no boxing match, James.”

“Of course not. The prince prefers swords.”

“I’m not joking.” In fact, Cecelia was experiencing a sinking sensation. She’d thought James was jealous, but he didn’t care forher. Only for victory. She didnotwish to made a prize in some sort of male game. Indeed, she would not be!

“Neither am I. You get nothing in life unless you fight for it.”

His blue eyes seemed to burn. Perhaps with more than pugnacity? Cecelia didn’t know. It was certainly not the soft light of love. She turned away and watched Beatrice Yelverton sit down at the pianoforte. Miss Yelverton took her time arranging her skirts and placing her hands. Clearly, she had a sense of drama, which Cecelia rather admired. “I don’t agree,” she began.

Miss Yelverton let her hands fall. A crashing chord startled the room.

“Good lord,” James said.

It was followed by a ripple of quieter notes.

---