Page 25 of A Deal with the Duke of Ice

Ruth, of course, did not exist. She was an imaginary lady's maid, conjured up for the Duke’s benefit.

They left, shuffling out of the door with many backward glances and conciliating smiles aimed at the Duke.

Then the door closed, and a heavy silence descended.

The Duke held a finger to his lips, and Rosaline frowned. He got up, silently tiptoeing over to the door, and wrenched it open.

The Baroness had been standing directly behind the door, her ear pressed to the wood. She gave a small squeal upon her discovery, leaping backwards. Her face flushed an ugly red. She stammered excuses, growing redder and redder under the Duke’s cold, unimpressed stare.

She scuttled away, and the Duke closed the door again, turning back to Rosaline.

She was trying her best not to smile.

“So your mother has a habit of listening at doors, does she?” he asked heavily.

“You can hardly blame her. A Duke that we are not acquainted with just turned up and demanded an audience with me. What do you want, Your Grace?”

The Duke smiled wryly, moving back to his seat. He sat down gingerly.

“Right now, what I want is to know whether this chair will hold my weight.”

“Isuppose we shall find out. I wouldn’t advise fidgeting too much, though.” Rosaline folded her hands in her lap. She had no idea where this conversation was going and wasn’t entirely sure she cared to find out. “How did you find out where I lived?”

“You’re still a member of theton. It wasn’t difficult.”

“Isuppose so. Are you going to tell me why you went to all that trouble?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I just told you that it was no trouble at all, Miss Wyre.”

She leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. It wasn’t aparticularlyladylike attitude, but Rosaline did notparticularlycare.

“Iassume that if you intended to expose mine and Cordelia’s plot to my parents, you wouldn’t have sent them out of the room. I’m not entirely sure what to expect. After seeing the state of our house, I daresay blackmail is out of the question.”

“You underestimate me, Miss Wyre.”

“What, you mean I underestimate your morals, or your intelligence? Did you really see our horrid, shabby house and think that we are rich? Did you smell the tripe cooking and think that we have money to spare?”

“Iam not talking to you, Miss Wyre, until you collect yourself.”

Rosaline felt a flash of anger. She leapt to her feet, pacing around the room.

“Iam tempted to throw a cushion at your head, sir.”

“Go ahead. Your cushions are flimsy things with more embroidery than stuffing in them.”

She growled. “What do you want?”

The Duke sighed. “It won’t have escaped your notice that I am an eligible gentleman and am most sought after.”

Rosaline groaned, throwing herself back into her seat. “Oh, God save me from the vanity of men.”

“Ihave had something of a revelation today.” The Duke continued, undeterred. “I was sitting in a teashop with the most insufferable Society belle and her equally insufferable mother, and I realized something. I am not going to be left alone. My grandmother has a list of eligible ladies, and since Society constantly produces suitable women, the list will continue to grow.”

He was looking at her expectantly now. Rosaline looked back lifting her eyebrows.

It was more difficult to see him again than she had thought. The sensation of his kiss still lingered on her lips, and there was nobody she could talk to about it. It felt as though something wonderful had been just beyond her grasp – her fingertips just brushing it – only for it to be wrenched away at the last moment.

His expression was shuttered again, in a way it hadn’t been in the moments before he had kissed her.

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