Page 18 of Anything But a Duke
“I admire your preparation.”
“I am always prepared, Mr. Iverson. I don’t like surprises.”
“Not every event can be anticipated.” Aidan glanced down at the box in her hands.
“No. Not every one.”
She was speaking of that night. Aidan took a step closer, and she didn’t retreat. “You do remember, then?”
“I remember,” she whispered.
They were so close he felt the heat of her breath against his face. She glanced inside the carriage at her brother, and when she turned back, the warmth between them had chilled.
“I believe I tore your coat.”
It wasn’t an apology. Aidan sensed she wouldn’t give him anything. Why would she?
“My coat is easily mended. I hope the same is true for your scale model.”
Miss Ashby turned her back on him and handed the box up to her brother. Aidan could read irritation in every line of her body—the hard clench of her jaw and square set of her shoulders.
“You should fund my device, Mr. Iverson.” She faced him again and took one step closer. “My idea is sound and my device works beautifully. If I could fund several prototypes, the public might see their usefulness. I know I could return any investment offered.” She leaned in to emphasize her point, drawing so near that for the briefest moment her bodice brushed the fabric of his waistcoat.
Aidan resisted the mad urge to reach out and touch her as he’d done that night in Belgravia. But he didn’t have the excuse of a bruised head and dizziness now.
“You’ll regret not taking this opportunity, Mr. Iverson.”
In that moment, with her rosewater scent all around him and her chin quivering beneath the plushest lips he’d ever seen, he had several regrets, but none of them had to do with investments.
He reminded himself that he was on the hunt for a wife and needed a lady of good breeding, noble blood, and domestic inclinations. A bride completely unlike the woman standing so close that he could see the splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Would he regret refusing her? Possibly, but the opportunity he wanted had nothing to do with Miss Ashby’s device and everything to do with the woman herself.
Chapter Six
Being a twin was an odd business.
Diana had never been able to hide emotions from her brother. Even when she tried, the connection between them allowed Dominick to sense her feelings.
Thankfully, whatever his instincts about her mood, he did a brilliant job of not mentioning the debacle at Lyon’s on their carriage ride home. Of course, he ruined it all five minutes later as they approached the front door.
“I’m sorry, Di,” he said with a sad smile.
“There will be more opportunities. And next time things will go differently.” She wasn’t ready to give up, and the last thing she wanted were words of pity or platitudes.
“I’m proud of you.” He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “I may not tell you enough. Actually, I may never tell you at all.” He frowned thoughtfully. “You are a brilliant inventor.”
Diana squinted into the sunlight casting a halo above her brother’s head. “I suspected you imbibed too much last night, but now I’m wondering if at some point you stumbled and knocked your head.”
He smiled in reply and she tried too, though her face felt tight and everything in her rebelled. Disappointment was still too fresh.
Besides, she and Dom had never been the sort of siblings to offer compliments. They bickered and brawled and challenged each other. That was how it had always been. But she soaked up his words and let them sink in. There was comfort in knowing that he believed in her. She didn’t wish to think of those moments before the Duke’s Den when it had all fallen apart.
That mortification was too much to swallow all at once. She’d ponder the disaster of it all later, when she was alone.
“I know it didn’t come together as you wished, but going was terribly brave. You were the first.”
A sigh escaped from a place so deep in the center of her chest that the exhale burned. “Perhaps I’ll be the last.”
