Page 2 of Her Duke Next Door
“Madam, are you all right?” A voice that was the smoothest, deepest velvet spoke to her.
There was a thud as the man’s boots hit the ground. He jumped off his horse, immediately offering Mary a hand to help her up. Lifting her gaze from her torn dress and up to this man, she fixed a glare on him. Framed against the high morning sun, the stranger, she noticed, was devastatingly handsome. Dark hair curled into his coat’s collar that was a beautiful contrasting green with his pale skin. His outstretched hand was strong, with long, thin fingers that beckoned her. She scowled at him.
“I am quite fine,” she snapped. “But you, sir, should watch yourself. You nearly killed my daughter and I!” She stubbornly refused his hand and got to her feet with as much grace as she could muster. The sleeve of her dress had slid off, and she caught his eyes dropping to the curve now exposed. She yanked the sleeve back up.
Mary was a tall woman, possessing her father’s height and her mother’s width. But this man still towered over her, his distant, hazel eyes looking down on her. His face was pointedly controlled, his mouth tight as if he did not like being snapped at. Of course, he did not. No man with a horse and coat as fine as his would appreciate it.
“My apologies, madam,” he said, his voice lowering. It had been many years since she had interacted with another man who was not her father, brother-in-law, or nephew, and his voice only sparked her irritation further for how seductive he sounded without saying anything remotely sensual. His tone naturally spread warmth through her, and she put it down to the anger. Mary drew back further when the horse gave a huff.
“What are you doing, racing like that down a country lane? “I hope you do not call yourself a gentleman, treating a woman and her daughter with so little care,” she snapped.
Out of the corner of her eyes, Mary noticed Bernie pulling Eloise to the side, pointing at another patch of flowers, and ushering her away from the two adults.
The man stilled, his eyebrows raising as if in quiet shock. Clearly, the man was so arrogantly assured of himself as if he had not been spoken to like this before.
“Madam, will you let me answer one of your questions before you start accusing me of not caring about anybody,” he answered cooly. “And, please, forgive me, again, but Ihaveapologized. Several times.”
“You are very entitled, sir, to think there are enough apologies for the danger you could have caused! An apology would not have spared our lives had your horse been further out of control beneath your hand. Soforgive meif I do not accept!”
“I shall not stand here and listen to you insult me,” he countered, lifting his chin. “And watch your expression. I shall not have you glare at me so.”
“Then you are welcome to be on your way! I do not wish to spend my morning bickering with a man who cares little for the safety of others. Even now, you look as though you are entirely bored! And what an enormous beast that is! Should you be riding him on a country lane this small? I am certain this is a walkway.”
“I can go where I please! I will not stand for you trying to dictate where I can ride. I do not take kindly to women trying to tell me what to do. And I would ask you to leave my horse out of this,” the man answered, looking affronted. “What has he ever done to you?”
“He nearly killed me!”
That got him smirking. “So was it me who nearly killed you or my horse?”
His irritating question gave her pause. She balled her hands into fists. The basket of flowers had fallen to the ground and she snatched it up, angrily draping it over her arm.
“Good day, sir, I do hope you do not trample any other women on your way.”
“Well, Imust say I hope no other women are foolish enough to not look at where they are standing. Perhaps it was you in the wrong. Surely, you were in my path.”
“I do not know you, sir, but I find you intolerable and I am glad we are strangers!”
“Are you, now?” The man’s face turned to something more taunting that Mary did not appreciate. But before he could, his eyes fell to her torn dress and stiffened. “Madam, your dress?—”
Humiliated, Mary blushed furiously, tugging on the rip as if she could close up the tear in the skirt. “My dress is quite fine,” she snapped. “It is nothing I cannot handle.”
“Let me have it tailored for you,” he offered, and the suggestion took her by surprise for a moment. “It is the least I could do.”
And yet he did not look like it was something hewantedto do but perhaps felt as though he needed to.
Mary bit back another retort. “I shall see to it myself.”
“Then you must let me?—”
“No,” Mary answered. “Thank you, sir, but I am not in need of assistance.” She could feel the breeze catching through the rip in her skirts but she winced through a smile and straightened herself, composing her stature once again.
He watched her struggle to right herself and the infuriating man only smirked. “What a pity,” he murmured.
“What is?” Mary snapped.
“That such a beautiful woman would have such an insolent tongue.”
Mary’s response died on her lips, rendering her silent as she glared at this man who had somehow steered the conversation into a place where he had control despite her fury.
