Page 24 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

With a sigh, Henry moved to the armchair by the fire, the evening’s purchases stacked neatly on the side table.

Philosophy, economics, and morality. Solid, respectable. Just as they should be.

He reached for the top volume,A Treatise on Moral Philosophy, and opened it. But as he lifted the first book, a flash of deep crimson caught his eye.

His gaze dropped to the remaining stack.

And froze.

There, tucked neatly beneath the more respectable tomes, lay a slim volume bound in scarlet leather, its title embossed in gleaming gold.

The Lustful Libertine’s Lessons in Love.

Henry simply stared at it. For a long, stunned moment.

Surely,surely, this was some error at the shop. A misplacement. The shopkeeper’s mistake. But even as he tried to believe that, the memory struck hard and sharp.

Honey-blonde hair. Defiant eyes. A mouth far too quick with its barbs.

Miss Lytton.

“Of course,” he murmured to himself.

His pulse kicked hard, a hot flush creeping up his neck. She’d done this deliberately. Smoothly. He didn’t even see it! How could he be so careless?

The sheer audacity of it, the sheer audacity ofher, sent heat coursing through him, something perilously tangled with fury… and something far more dangerous.

Desire.

“Blast it,” he cursed and stood abruptly, the scandalous volume still clutched in his hand.

But no amount of distance would rid him of it.

Or her.

“Might we perhaps take a tour of the house today, Lady Oakley?” Celia ventured, her voice a bit too practiced to sound casual. “I find myself curious about the portraits in the gallery, and I’ve heard your conservatory houses the most remarkable orchids.”

From his position near the window, Henry’s shoulders tensed. The request was innocent enough, yet something in his daughter’s tone suggested layers beneath the surface, a quality he recognized all too well, having mastered it himself.

“What an excellent notion,” Lady Oakley replied while rising from her chair. “A change of scenery often enhances the learning experience. Fresh perspectives and all that.”

“However,” Celia continued, her gaze flickering briefly to her father before settling back on Lady Oakley, “might we venture forth without Father trailing behind us like… well, like a disapproving owl in human form?”

The words struck with unexpected force, and Henry felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest. Was that truly how his daughter perceived his presence?

“Celia,” he warned, “that tone is entirely inappropriate.”

“I merely thought,” she pressed on with the determined courage of youth, “that I might experience the house as you would show it to any young lady guest, rather than as…” She trailed off, seeming to recognize the dangerous territory she was entering.

“Rather than as a prisoner under guard?” Henry finished coldly, rising from his chair with deliberate slowness. “I think not. Your lessons will continue here, as arranged.”

Indeed, it pained him so that his daughter would consider his care for her so bleakly. But she did not know the harshness of the very society she was soon to enter. And if he had any say, he would make sure she did not know that harshness at all.

Lady Oakley stepped forward. “Your Grace, if I might suggest a compromise? I shall personally ensure Lady Celia remains within appropriate bounds during our tour. Perhaps Hodgins might show you the improvements we’ve made to the rose gardens? The new varieties are particularly striking this season.”

“Very well,” Henry replied curtly.

“Excellent,” Lady Oakley declared. “Every gentleman of refinement should appreciate horticulture. Hodgins! Please escort His Grace to see Mr. Williams and ensure he provides a thorough tour of our recent acquisitions.”

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