Page 72 of By No Means a Gentleman
Her impression of the duke raised just a bit. “He is oddly wise for a full-grown infant.”
The soft sound of a chuckle teased her ears. “A fitting description.”
“In any case,” Harriet said, “thank you.”
He inclined his head.
While they were on the topic, she might as well question him about one rumor that she’d read about him once. “Do you gamble?”
A brow shot up. “Gamble?”
Harriet almost laughed. The man sounded as if he’d just heard the most foreign word! “You know...” The urge to tease him claimed her. “That thing men do that costs them their entire fortunes.”
“I don’t gamble.”
“Then, do you know about the rumors of you being a renowned gambler?”
He scowled. “I don’t read the gossip rags.”
“Well, according to them, you spend most of your days in gambling dens.”
“And you believe that drivel?”
“Smoke usually accompanies a fire.” What else could she say?
“Have I been in a gambling den? Yes. Calstone dragged me to one once. He gambled, not me.” Those burning eyes bore into hers. “I don’t gamble, love. I shall put that in a note for you tomorrow.”
She laughed at his disgruntled expression. “No need, I believe you.” Yet another rumor that seemed to be untrue. Also, if Leeds truly were a notorious gambler, chances were he would not be giving her dowry back to her.
“I’ll still put it in a note. Then it will be on paper in my handwriting.”
“You are quite a mystifying man,” Harriet murmured.
“I am an open book, love.” He paused for a bit, seemingly searching for the right words. “At least I am to you. When you are ready, all you need to do is read through the pages.”
Harriet smiled. “That might be the silliest”—but most endearing—“thing anyone has ever said to me.
“Even Graves?”
“Rohan? Mostly what comes out of his mouth is vexing.” She tugged at her dressing gown. “We are just friends, you know. Like Calstone is to you.”
“And still I find myself rather envious.”
Harriet searched his gaze. “Why?”
“Graves got to meet you while you were a young girl. He gets a part of you that no one else can hope to receive.”
“There are more parts,” Harriet said softly. “One’s heart isn’t just made of one compartment.”
“Then there is hope.”
Leeds couldn’t want her heart, could he? No. Surely not. The mere thought seemed almost preposterous.
But the flowers . . . and the notes . . .
Harriet didn’t quite know what to make of his words, but they did leave a trail of stuttered beats in her pulse.
Will set his glass down on the table and rose. “I shall take my leave then.”
