Page 111 of Pride: The Rogue
“Latimer has as much of asoft spotas me, Duchess.” With that, the younger man again lifted his glass Latimer’s way. “I believe the respectable company you keep, Your Grace, refer to Latimer’s benevolence as ‘pity’.”
Latimer curled his fingers into the rolled arm of the chair.
As if he could ever pity a woman of Livian’s strength, convictions, and goodness.
“Ahhh.” The duchess inclined her head in clear understanding. “I should then extend the same grace to Miss Lovelace?” The day’s setting sun glinted off the haughty woman’s diamond-studded tiara. “That is, even more than I already have, throwing this affair in her honor.”
Lachlan frowned. In Livian’s honor?
What the hell?
“I’m definitely not saying that.” Dynevor snorted. “For that matter, I could care less how you treat some mousy chit marrying outside her reach. Do what you want with that one.”
A dark curtain of rage fanned Latimer’s vision.
To keep from ripping the bloody sard’s throat out, Latimer concentrated on breathing.
A bored-looking Dynevor, having said his piece, went back to sipping his spirits.
Wanting to end the miserable blighter’s life here and now hardly portended the start of a long, healthy partnership.
A delicate palm came to rest upon Latimer’s knee. The duchess gave him a light squeeze.
He stiffened.
“And what of you, Mr. Latimer?” she purred, inching her deft fingers higher and higher up his thigh.
“What about me?” He remained singularly unmoved by her embarrassingly public display. If anything, her possessive show bored him.
“Should I show Miss Lovelace grace on your account?”
Latimer tensed. The duchess was giving him some manner of test, of which his answer would determine whether Livian found herself the recipient of the duchess’ ire.
“Oh, my account?” he said carefully.
She dug her long, manicured nails sharp into his leg.
He winced.
He’d angered her. With his disinterest or evasiveness?
“What I’m saying, Mr. Latimer is, given our arrangement—”
Their arrangement… This marked the first time business affairs had left him ill.
“I too, should show greater benevolence for people like you.”
People like me.
He hid a wry grin.
“You don’t need to look to me for answers, Duchess. With the contributions you’ve made to various charities throughout London, and your willingness to welcome peoplelike meinto your orbit, you epitomize grace.”
As intended, Latimer’s words had the desired effect. Cheered out of her earlier ill humor, the duchess preened under his praise.
Latimer didn’t let up.
“You certainly don’t need answers from two cynical bastards like Dynevor and myself on how to treat anyone, especially not an innocent, unworldly woman like Miss Lovelace.”
