Page 8 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

Unless…

“Your Grace?” Frances asked hesitantly when she came face to face with the stranger who’d danced with her at Colonel Fitzgerald’s party. He was as tall, imposing, and handsome as she remembered. She curtseyed and waited for him to explain.

“Miss Turner,” the man replied with a very formal bow.

“It is good to see you again,” she said when he said nothing further.

“And you as well,” he replied, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

Frances was about to invite him to sit down when she heard the unexpected sound of footsteps outside the drawing room door. She glanced over her shoulder but saw no one, which could only mean that there were spies afoot.Aunt Bridget, she thought with a rueful smirk.

“Would you care to see the garden, Your Grace?” Frances asked, determined to rob Lady Hutchings of the chance to eavesdrop.

“As you wish.”

Frances led the way outside, gesturing to where Sara was seeing to her work. She jerked her head discreetly for her to join them outdoors. The maid smiled happily and followed them out, sitting off to the side against the house with a patient but attentive look. Frances smiled and nodded her thanks before turning to speak to the duke.

“I’m sorry that we haven’t been introduced,” she began, but he cocked his head and looked at her strangely.

“It wasn’t necessary. I gave the butler my card. Did he not inform you of my name?”

“Well, yes. But that’s not the same as an introduction.”

“How is it not?”

“An introduction is an intentional act. It signifies that you wish to know the person you’re speaking with better so that you might address them by name. Without such an introduction, I am utterly incapable of doing that with you at the moment.”

“You may address me as Your Grace. Did you need to know something more?” he asked.

Frances looked at him for a few seconds. He didn’t seem upset or irritated, and she had to admit that his tone wasn’t quite rude. It was more inquisitive, if that was the right word. So, what was the cause of this strange air about him?

“Well, you haven’t actually told me your name. Mr. Robbins only informed me that the Duke of Preston was here. Did your parents actually christen you ‘Duke of’ for some reason? Or is that your title?” she teased playfully, hoping it would make this hard, cold veneer crack a little.

“I’m sure you know they did not,” he snapped in reply. Frances took a step back in surprise, and the duke’s demeanor softened by a fraction. “My name is Anthony Hughes.”

“I see,” Frances said, waiting for him to say more. When he did not, she asked, “And would you care to know my name?”

“I already know it. It is Miss Turner. I’ve addressed you by name already, remember?”

“My name is Frances. Frances Turner.”

The duke only nodded at this, as though putting that information away somewhere out of reach. Frances caught Sara’s eye and silently pleaded with her to do something. The maid could only smile helplessly as she shrugged, unable to offer anything more than sympathy at the awkwardness of it all.

As there was nothing more to say, Frances began to walk along the terrace, stopping to look out over the small garden. She had to admit that her aunt and uncle were meticulous in their care for the grounds, keeping Mr. Jeffers busy with tending to their lovely property. She had spent many happy hours here when she was younger, usually sitting on the swing at the far end of the arbor and reading a book. The garden had always been a tiny, stolen oasis in the busy city, but now, it seemed to stretch on like a barren landscape, leaving her with nothing to see. When she turned to gauge the duke’s reaction, she saw that he had not come with her to the terrace wall.

Enough is enough, she thought miserably.I did not endure my aunt’s wrath this morning to have to report back that the duke is a cold man with the personality of that empty watering can!

“Well, it was very nice of you to pay me a visit this morning,” Frances finally said, realizing that the duke had nothing else to say to her.

“Of course,” he replied plainly, though he made no move to go to the door.

“I’m sure you have other people you must call on,” she hinted, folding her hands in front of her and rocking back and forth on her toes nervously, but still he stood where he’d first planted himself.

“No. I do not like to visit anyone.”

“I see. Yet, here you are,” she said, laughing lightly. The duke showed no sign of amusement.

“This is not a social call, Miss Turner.”

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