Page 42 of Good Duke Gone Hard

“Mar–”

“Just leave me alone.” She turned around and took off to her room. She heard Jonathan’s steps close behind her.

She knew she hadn’t stood a chance of outrunning him, so when she reached her room, she resigned herself to leaving the door open. As she waited for him to enter, she took inventory of anything she might possibly want to throw against the wall if the argument erupted. There was a small brush. A handheld mirror. A pitcher. Not much. But it would make a loud enough crash.

“What do you want?” She glared at him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You can’t have it both ways,” he teased.

She narrowed her eyes to barely opened slits.

“I can either answer your question and stay, or leave and deprive you of the knowledge you seek.”

“I don’t care.” She folded her arms.

“I think you do.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“I think you do.”

The argument, if one could call it that, was already running in circles.

“Argh! You don’t know what I want.”

“So tell me.”

He made it sound so simple. What did she want? Just tell him. If only it were that simple. Since he had arrived at Chatsworth claiming he remembered only its name, nothing had been simple. Did she want him to remember everything? Anything? Which would be easier? There was no easy or simple in this scenario. There was too much old pain to relive and too much future pain potentially awaiting her.

With three words, he could almost reduce everything to a simple transaction.Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you.The second part was implied. That had always been Jonathan’s charm. Light. Breezy. Carefree.

When he had returned, she saw him anew. He was anything but breezy. He was made with a hard exterior that no breeze could penetrate. Yet, after spending more time with him, she felt as though some of her breeze was finally filtering through to him. Was it possible? Was it just her imagination? Because then these last two days happened and she questioned everything even more.

While she was ruminating, Jonathan had stepped closer to her. “Tell me, Margaret.” His melodic baritone sang to her heart.

“Alright. Let’s start with yesterday. What were you doing with Bella?”

“Bella?” Jonathan asked with notable shock.

“Yes, Bella. I saw you flirting with her–”

“You mean, competing in the tournament together?”

“I saw you two. I was there. The dancing, the–”

“The horseshoes and shooting,” he interrupted.

“And all the rest,” she waved her arms around as if that random gesture could convey all the teasing she had witnessed and all the jealousy–yes jealousy, she could admit it now–that she felt.

Jonathan pulled back. “Your mother put us together. Take it up with her.”

She wanted to growl at him. She was taking it up with exactly the person she wanted to. “You still had choices.”

He paused. A wise move by a wise man if Margaret had been able to admit it. She wasn’t able to do so.

“Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

“That is what’s bothering me. And then you went to London and didn’t tell me anything. You don’t owe me anything, but I thought…”

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