Page 187 of Dukes for Dessert

A Perfectly Scandalous Proposal

Tanya Anne Crosby

Prologue

England Summer, 1849

Everyone called her Princess.

Gabe called her brat.

Of course, she weren’t no princess, only a duke’s daughter; still his Da said she was a “poor li’l thing” cause they kept her locked away in a schoolroom, where she learned to tally and read as though she were some bookkeeper.

That’s what his Da said.

Gabe kept his gob shut, because no one knew Maggie Willingham stole away from her studies every day to come play with him. How would they know? No one ever came searching for her, and Gabe supposed they were keeping her locked away in that schoolroom because her Da didn’t care to see her.

That’s what Gabe believed.

Her Da was a slimy toad, who croaked more’n he breathed, and Gabe didn’t like him anymore than he liked church or tight shoes.

Sprawled, belly down over his brand-new pasteboard at the crest of their favorite hill, he peered through the tall, swaying grass at the girl seated below. His heart racing, he shimmied closer, parting weeds and windflowers to get a better look.

Every day they met right here, same time, same place—ever since that day they’d met in the garden his father tended. He was eight, Maggie was seven, and they’d become fast friends, racing through the maze of her family’s garden and rolling beneath those prickly hedges, giggling as they escaped mythical beasts—mostly her bellowin’ da, with his puffed-out cheeks and bright-red nose. Only now that Gabe was thirteen... his heart was doing peculiar things when he saw her. It pounded so furiously he thought it might grow legs, explode from his chest, and bound away. And his lungs—hell’s bells—he could never seem to catch a breath anymore. It was happening again.

Right now.

He knit his brows as he watched Maggie, and drew in a breath, inhaling a tickling weed, only to sneeze it out again, and then he peered down the hill to see if she’d heard. He didn’t know why he was hiding here, like he was afraid to face her. She was his best friend in the entire world. But she was a silly little girl. And if his fellows ever discovered he still met with her daily, he’d never hear the end.

In fact, he thought about leaving now—picking up his pasteboard and skulking away—until she slumped forward, and her heaving sobs reached his ears.

Driven by concern over the thought of her distress, he drew himself up, slapped at his clothes to relieve them of dirt, and then abandoned his pasteboard, marching down the hill fast as his booted feet would carry him.

She was fine, he reassured himself. Likely, she’d tripped over that stupid dress she was wearing. He missed the clothes she used to wear.... and even more so the way they used to play together, scuffling around in the dirt.

She didn’t seem to notice him even once he was standing behind her, so preoccupied was she with her caterwauling and Gabe stood behind her, waiting for her to look up.

Was it rude to interrupt a girl while she was crying?

His mother and sisters did so little of that caterwauling; he didn’t know. Used to be he would have rapped Maggie on the head and run away. She might have chased him screaming. But now, he couldn’t even bring himself to touch her.

Her hair was too pretty, her curls arranged in such a manner that even her earnest wailing couldn’t properly muss them.

He stood, mesmerized by the way the sunlight glistened over her lustrous chestnut curls, and his heart did a few more annoying flippity-flops as he waited for her to notice he was standing behind her. All the while, he had the most disconcerting urge to sit down and hug her... stroke her beautiful hair… comfort her.

It weren’t like her to cry.

In fact, he couldn’t remember ever seeing her shed so many tears.

One time, she’d scolded him for wailing after he’d turned and run into that naked statue in her father’s maze—the one with the leaf over his man parts. Afterward, he’d grown a knot on his forehead the size of an apple, but Maggie told him to grow up and boxed his ears for good measure.

Devil take her. If she’d been a boy, he might have boxed her back. But, of course, she wasn’t a boy, and that fact was becoming more and more apparent by the day.

Even now, his heart thumped faster, and his face grew warm as he stood waiting, wondering if he should speak up... or perhaps maybe tap her on the head to get her attention. For the first time in all the years he had known her, Gabe felt like running away before she noticed him.

Longingly, he turned to gauge the distance to the crest of the hill and considered dashing back up and diving for cover behind the tall grass. But… he didn’t move; he stood, feet rooted to the ground, until she glanced up, and Gabe felt a disconcerting leap in his breast.

Watery green eyes met his blue.

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