Page 32 of Taken By the Duke of Stone

"Where would you like to go?"

"I really have no idea where I would start from. The wall in China perhaps, but then again, I am far too restless to even think about being cooped up in a boat for weeks on end," she let out a breezy laughter, "It is the most contradictory thing ever."

"You are a contradicting woman."

She peeked up at him through her lashes, unable to read his expression. There was something very intense about the way he was staring down at her, like he could see something that she couldn't.

It made her squirm in her seat, "I don't know if that is an insult or a compliment."

The Duke merely smiled at her, unwilling to clarify what he meant. She huffed.

"I did not travel much because I was the sole heir to the duchy, even now my responsibilities keep me rooted to the country. I must admit that it would be delightful to see the world," he looked thoughtful for a moment, "But I'm afraid I could never abandon my duties so callously."

He was as much of a prisoner as she was. Oddly, it made her feel more connected to him than she had ever felt. They were both stuck to an extent. Her by her gender and him by the thing people envied him of; his title.

"What use is a lofty title and wealth if one cannot just toss everything aside and disappear?" She shook her head.

"Those two things are the most attractive thing about me," he pointed out, "Even you must admit that I am only seated here and you are only bound to me now because of those things."

She flinched, a little hurt but it was the truth nonetheless, "You are wrong. Not about me being with you because of those things, I will not bother claiming to be a much better person than I am."

"What then am I wrong about?"

"Those are not the most attractive things about you," she said, "you're an interesting man, Your Grace and I'll take a conversation with you over one with any other gentleman of theton. If you have ever listened to an impassioned monologue about horses by one of my cousin's friends, you would say the same."

The Duke let out a snort of laughter, "At least he's passionate about something."

She made a face, "Or he just really likes to listen to the sound of his own voice."

"As much as I don't wish the horse whisperer on anyone else, I must say that the ladies of thetonare far worse," he shook his head, "There is so much batting of lashes and fluttering of fans. It still comes as a surprise that my hair does not get wind ruffled after conversations with them."

"You are terrible," she laughed, imagining the picture he painted for her of ladies batting their lashes hard and rapidly enough to create wind.

The conversation progressed, sliding effortlessly from one topic to another. There was never a moment of awkward silence between them.

"The one thing I would like to try if I were a gentleman," Lavinia thought about it for a minute, "Drinking myself to a sore head perhaps. My cousin Noah swears he would stop every morning,but there must be something great about it because he always goes back to it that very evening."

The Duke threw his head back and let out a loud bark of laughter that made the Adam apple on his throat bob. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the strong column of his throat. Her mouth dried up and she felt curiously parched all of a sudden.

"I shall save you a sore head and humiliating nights by telling you that it is not as appealing as your cousin has probably made it to seem. In fact, from someone who has had his fair share of drunken nights, I will warn you to try something else."

She pouted, "I cannot think of anything else. I may just have to try them all till my time runs out."

The Duke shrugged and pressed his leg harder against hers, "Very well then, my lady. I shall help you try them all."

"What do you mean?" She blinked at him, confused.

He leaned closer, almost caging her into a side of the chair. She would have felt trapped and irritated if it were anybody else, but it was him, his leather and spice scent filling her lungs.

"I've never planned to live my life in the drudgery of regular genteel life," he hesitated, "And you do not have to either. I shall sweeten the pot of becoming my Duchess for you. If you want to imbibe in alcohol or ride astride, I shall be all too willing to indulge you in that. Under my supervision of course."

"Good," all the words she knew had departed her and she could only give that bland reply.

Amusement lit his eyes, "Good?"

Lady Hartfield cleared her throat from the sofa across the room, but instead of springing apart, the Duke took his time moving away from her till he was completely on his side of the chair again and she could breathe fully.

"I think calling hours are over," he dug out his pocket watch and she was shocked to see that it was a beaten up silver piece.

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