Page 2 of Married Off by the Duke
“Thank you for that scathing assessment. I don’t have much need for evening gowns at Mrs. Quarrie’s School for the Improvement of Young Ladies. Did you need me for anything other than as a target for your insults, Your Graceless…erm, Your Grace? Or may I be excused? I am quite fatigued.”
Max sighed. Miss Willis’ head barely came to his shoulder. Kissing her would involve craning one’s neck at an uncomfortable angle?—
Inwardly, he groaned. Not this, again.
Max couldn’t stop his physical reaction to his ward. He’d never been able to tamp it down, a fact that had befuddled him for the entirety of their acquaintance.
Her lilting voice tumbled around in his mind for several seconds before her words clicked into place.
“Did you just call me Your Graceless?”
Pink stained Emma’s creamy cheeks. There was a small mark near the left side of her mouth. He couldn’t stop staring at it. Max often found himself distracted by the lush shape and color of her lips.
When Miss Willis was around, he couldn’t bloody think.
“What if I did?” she asked bluntly.
Max rubbed his temples.
“It’s actually, ‘Your Gracelessness,’” she informed him.
“Pot, meet kettle.” Max had the absurd impulse to laugh.
“I am no duchess. I am therefore not expected to display any grace, Your Gracelessness.”
“Grace is inherent to the female sex. The exception proves the rule, I suppose.” Seeing the protest form on her rosebud lips, he cut her off by saying, “I reckon you’re wondering why I called you home.”
“Ardennes House isn’t my home.”
Max’s headache abruptly worsened. “Away from the school, then.”
“You were rather blunt in stating your reasons. Shall I repeat them?”
“Not necessary, I remember them perfectly?—”
“‘Miss Willis, the occasion of your recent birthday reminds me how your marital prospects decline with each passing day. Already, you are sufficiently aged that finding a suitor will be no easy feat, particularly given your deficient personal charms?—’”
“Did you memorize my entire letter?” he demanded, aghast. He felt certain that wasn’t what he’d actually written. The deficient personal charms bit did sound disturbingly familiar, though.
Max hadn’t considered what it might feel like to receive such a letter. He was a duke, and unaccustomed to considering anyone else’s feelings about anything at all.
“Every. Word.” Miss Willis took two steps forward. Her extended index finger prodded him in the sternum. Max flinched. “Before I burned it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest.
“At least you’ve done me the courtesy of destroying the evidence of my poor manners.” He stood stiffly, flexing his hands so as not to make fists.
Emma smirked.
He wanted to…to…do something to make it stop. His immediate impulse was to kiss her, but that would earn him a slap, so he imagined throttling her instead.
“I burn all your letters, Your Grace.”
He sighed. “Funnily enough, I save all of yours.”
She frowned. A matching expression stole over his face. Why would he admit such a thing? To her, of all people?
“This guardianship business must end.”
