Page 6 of Good Duke Gone Rogue

“Dispense with formalities, Detta?”

“I should think so, Reggie. We’re old friends.”

“Do you dispense formalities with your husband?” He wasn’t sure where he was headed, only that there were warning bells ringing in his head.

“I should think that’s none of your concern.”

“Don’t we share secrets still?”

She eyed him up and down. “You’re tossed.”

His chuckle was interrupted by a movement from her to leave.

“Don’t go. It was merely a poorly attempted jest.”

“Hmmm...”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” He crossed his heart, eliciting a small smile from her lips. That smile. Those lips. They beckoned to him even though they belonged to another man.

“I’d like you to define ‘best behavior’ for me first.”

“Sharp as ever, Detta.”

“Around you I have to be.”

“What about your husband? How are you around him?”

“Why the persistent curiosity about my marriage, Reggie? Surely we can find another topic of conversation.”

“Isn’t it a happy marriage?” He knew he was probing, and it was improper, but that was the torment of a wrenched heart.

“You know I married for convenience. It’s no secret.”

“But are you happy?” And he was asking because he wanted her to be happy. At least, he wanted to want her to be happy. But if he was being honest with himself, he still wanted a future where she was happy with him somehow.

“I have my son.”

“Fine boy, I’m sure.”

“He is.” And the look she gave him brooked no reply.

“You must know I just want you to be happy.”

“Of course. You are a good person, Reggie.”

For some reason it rankled him that she hadn’t said he was a good man. He wanted her to see him as a man. Not just a person.

She must have seen something flash in his eyes because she added something, likely in hopes of reassuring him. Unfortunately it was the one phrase he didn’t want to hear.

“You’re a good friend to ask after my happiness.”

He didn’t want to just be a friend. Which was utterly ridiculous. She was married. She could only be his friend. Butit didn’t matter. The alcohol was strong, and the ferocity in his heart was stronger.

He leaned in, “I could be more than a friend.” The words were out before he could stop them. Before he could interrogate them and ask them if they really needed to be said. Before he could whitewash them. Before he could do anything to make them less…obvious.

But her response gave him a second chance. She pulled back and chuckled. Nervously, he was sure. But the chuckle itself offered a branch of sorts.

He slapped a grin on his face, hoping beyond hope that it would fulfill his objective, which was to make a joke of the whole thing.

---