Page 49 of A Duke in the Rough

As they made their way toward the woods, Drake quickly steeredhis horse next to Anne, and Honoria recalled his words from the day before.I assured your father I was not pursuing you.

Had she misinterpreted his intentions? Was Buttercup’s name a gesture of past friendship rather than a tribute to their love? And had he chosen a new path forward?

With Anne?

Drake clutchedMajor’s reins tighter than he should, the tension in his head flowing throughout his whole body. He stayed close to Miss Weatherby, praying that she had not exaggerated her horsemanship prowess. Buttercup could be stubborn unless given a gentle hand—as Drake knew Honoria would.

The groom at his estate had balked when Drake insisted on breaking Buttercup himself. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but this one is spirited. He’ll need a firm hand.”

After being thrown twice, Drake doubted Micah’s assessment. “He reminds me of a horse I broke for the Marquess of Stratford.”

Micah’s eyebrows rose, and Drake explained his former occupation, earning respect from the groom, who had already owned Drake’s.

“A light touch is what he needs. Much like you and I, Micah, he craves respect from those around him, and if it’s given, he will return it tenfold.” Sure enough, with gentle prodding and a soothing voice, Drake quickly had the horse in hand. “I think I’ll call him Buttercup.”

Micah removed his cap and scratched his head. “Buttercup, Your Grace? You are aware he’s a gelding?”

Drake patted the horse’s neck tenderly. “I am. And he should be proud to bear the same name of such a fine mare.”

Micah only shook his head and laughed. “He’s your horse, Your Grace. I expect you can call him Twinkle Toes if you so desire.”

But at the current moment, Drake wanted to call him something much more derogatory. As Miss Weatherby tugged roughly on the reins, Buttercup shook his head. He nudged Major next to her side. “Buttercup prefers a light touch, Miss Weatherby. Let the reins lieeasily in your hands and trust him to do the rest. Like this.” He demonstrated with Major’s reins.

Miss Weatherby’s blue eyes widened as she cast her gaze at him. “Mr. Merrick! You startled me. This horse doesn’t seem to understand. I don’t want to go to the left. I want to go that way.” She pointed past him toward Simon on the right.

Ah.“You wish to be near the duke?”

Expecting to witness embarrassment for her transparency, Drake was surprised at her guileless answer.

“Well, of course.”

Drake laughed to himself and shook his head. Perhaps she wasn’t immune to the lure of a title. Although he knew he and Miss Weatherby weren’t suited, he did like her honesty. “May I tell you something about the duke?”

“Oh yes, please!” The eagerness in her face set Drake’s nerves on edge.

“He likes a challenge.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Regarding women. He prefers to pursue those who rebuff his advances.”

“Well . . . that’s silly.”

“I don’t disagree. But if you are wondering how to win his heart, I would advise you to feign indifference or even dislike.”

She gave a little pout that reminded Drake of a petulant child.

“But if you wish, keep Buttercup’s reins loose in your grip and follow me.” He gave Major a gentle nudge with his boot, gave a verbal command to Buttercup, and moved diagonally toward Simon.

Much to Drake’s dismay, Simon trotted his horse next to Honoria.

“He seems to like Honoria,” Anne said. “And she’s not one to feign anything.”

No, she isn’t.The two chatted amiably, with Honoria favoring Simon with spirited laughter. Jealousy twisted in Drake’s stomach like a pit of vipers. What was Simon playing at? He struggled to reconcile what he knew about his two favorite people with the scene before him and, possibly, even provide Miss Weatherby with a ray of hope.

“Ah, but that proves my point. Don’t you think? If Lady Honoriahas expressed her disinterest in the duke, he, no doubt, has taken up the gauntlet to win her over.”

Anne’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so.”

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