Page 17 of The Duke's Contract

Henry nodded, understanding the feeling she described. He spent his entire life feeling trapped by his duties and his home, sure his cage came with trappings, but a gilded cage was beautiful but didn’t make it less trapping.

“Sounds like a difficult time,” Henry told her still unsure of what led her to his home.

“At the time, it felt like hell on earth, “she said. “In reality, people have bigger problems. My parents were thrilled to have me home. To them, I’d gotten something out of my system, which meant I could now devote myself to the family ideals, find a man who’d work our father’s business, marry, and pop out a kid. The only problem was that that ideal never fit into my master plan, so one day, I took my savings, bought a plane ticket, and headed for London. I got lucky and got into graduate school for business of all things, and then got even luckier and landed a job at Rochester House. The rest, as they say, is history.” Bre ended her story before resuming her dinner, and Henry felt taken aback.

“It was brave of you to leave everything behind, to come here,” he told her conveying his admiration. Bre blushed again. He loved the color of her skin. She looked like a painting that belonged to the portrait gallery, a modern Aphrodite.

“It wasn’t brave,” Bre told him, her voice taking on a serious note. “I have a bad tendency to run from problems.”

“Still, I admire your daring,” he told her sincerely.

She smiled shyly, “Thanks.”

The two went back to their meals enjoying a soft silence, the type that comes from knowing that the person across from you accepts you. Henry liked it.

“Tell me more about yourself,” Bre said, eventually breaking the silence. “What’s your sister like? Are you close?”

Henry considered her question. He and Astrid were close in many ways, but also, vastly different. After their father died, their relationship became strained. Henry blamed her for not being around, and she blamed Henry for always screwing up.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Bre said. “I realize it’s probably rude to ask.”

“Of course not,” Henry told her wanting her to feel free to ask questions. Never before had anyone asked him about himself without wishing to use the information to hurt him in some way. “Astrid and I are complex,” he said finally. “She resents that I’ll inherit everything simply because I’m a male, and I suppose sometimes I resent her because she’s free to do whatever she wants.” He’d never spoken those words aloud before in his entire life.

Nodding in understanding Bre waited for him to continue.

“It’s hard to be angry at Astrid. I mean she’s off helping those who need it most, saving the less fortunate, but I also remember how she chose to stay abroad even as our father was dying and our mother was losing it, and her behavior begins to feel wholly selfish.” Henry didn’t know why he unloaded on the way he did, something about Bre made him do things he never thought himself capable of.

“To being the black sheep,” Bre said, raising her water glass.

Henry chuckled at her humor. He did not have it in him to tell her he was hardly the black sheep of his family. Instead, he showed her camaraderie.

“To being the black sheep,” he said before clinking his water glass against her own. The pair smiled at each other, forming a bond that transcended sexual chemistry, and they continued their meal in comfortable silence, asking questions here and there.

“What next?” Bre asked once she finisher her meal. “I’m so full. I need to walk this off or something before I get in a car.”

Henry felt stumped. He rarely entertained women outside of the club or a hotel room, neither of which seemed appropriate in this particular circumstance.

“Let’s go to that pub you told me about?” Bre said excitedly. Her energy excited Henry.

“Are you certain you wish to go to the pub? It’s a dive. There are at least three other pubs in the area which are much nicer.”

“No!” Bre exclaimed slamming down the remainder of her water cup. “I’m getting the Henry the solicitor experience, not Henry, Duke of Rochester.” She presented the last bit in a deep, mocking voice.

“Then, I guess we better go, " he said.

Bre jumped from her seat gleefully as Henry threw several pounds down on the table.

Chapter Twelve

“You really weren’t joking when you said that place was a dive,” Bre gleefully exclaimed as they rode back to Rochester. “I think the bottoms of my shoes are still stuck to that floor,” she told him gleefully.

“In fairness, I tried to warn you,” Henry said, laughing at her.

The two of them spent the last two hours enjoying a few pints at a local dive in London. The place catered to locals who enjoyed a good pint and a rougher atmosphere than posh London. They talked, laughed, and played a terrible game of darts where neither of them managed to hit more than the outer edges of the board. It was the most fun Bre had in a long time, possibly ever.

“Next time I’ll take you somewhere nicer,” Henry told her.

“Don’t you dare!” Bre yelled in objection. “It was fantastic. Best beer I’ve had in London,” she told him truthfully leaving out the part that she’d never actually had any other beer in London. “It kind of reminded me of the local bars back home.”

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