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His grin died a slow and painful death. “It might surprise you to learn women once found me charming.”

At this, her head made another owlish swivel to meet his rueful gaze.

“That was, of course, before I became an unholy terror.” He motioned to his ruined features. “Perhaps I was just sodevastatingly handsome they thought to humor me. Lord save us all now that I have to rely on my underdeveloped sense of humor and apparently nonexistent wit.”

“Oh!” She reached out to him, her face soft with guilt, dropping the knotted grass.

He readied himself for the pleasure of her touch, but her hand paused just before they made any contact.

“Oh no, Your Grace, no, please.Pleasedon’t think my lack of… response has anything to do with… with your.” She gestured toward his beard. “I just… I’m not… erm…” Her words appeared to block her throat as she searched for a way to soothe his offense

“You’re not easily amused. I understand.” He overacted a magnanimous stature as he fought a smile. “Your high standards do you credit, my lady.”

He enjoyed the swift return of her color, as mortification replaced mortal fear. “That’s not it at all, Your Grace, I am quite easily amused… I promise…”

“More fool I, then, if it is so easily done, and I failed so utterly.”

She stepped closer, visibly vexed. “Please. It isn’t you at all. And I vow that your scars are not terrible,orterrifying. They’re rather dashing—charming. You’re charming, I meant to say—I—I’m just not…”

“You’re not yourself.” Something told him he’d gone too far, and her discomfiture was circling back to uneasiness and fear. “You’ve had a fright, Lady Alexandra. I only meant to tease you away from it.”

The worry drained from her expression, and her brows drew together as though she couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or cross with him.

“I’ve spent most of my life in the company of men,” he explained further. “And I’ll admit I’ve little to no practice in conversations with the fairer sex. And, I wasabsolutely lying when I claimed ladies ever found me charming.”

“Didn’t they, though? I should think they found you quite… erm… at least more than passing… that is… I’m sure they found you…” She swallowed audibly.

One of these days, she might actually be able to finish a sentence in his presence. “They found me obscenely wealthy, as well titled as a nonroyal can be, and—as most aspiring noble wives will tell you is an extremely desirable trait for a husband—I am most often abroad.”

“Certainly you won’t be now… now that you are to be a husband.”

Instead of answering, he made a great show of checking on the limp prisoner and patting Mercury’s neck. The footpath meandered closer to the cliffs before forking either toward the village, or back to Castle Redmayne, and he wished he could think of some other reason to avoid the question until their return.

“I don’t know. After Francesca and I perform our duties as Duke and Duchess of Redmayne and the Atherton line is secure, I might venture back out into the world. For now, it seems, I must see to my legacy.”

It was her turn to stare for a protracted moment. “You’re like no duke I’ve ever met.”

Piers was becoming accustomed to the way she blurted irreverent thoughts before considering their meaning.

“And you’re unlike any lady of my acquaintance,” he volleyed.

“I—I didn’t at all mean that as a slight.”

“And I was paying you the highest compliment.”

She ignored that, glancing away again. “I only meant to say, you’re more at home in the saddle or the stable than in any salon. You and Francesca will have that in common, at least.”

Ah yes, Francesca.He made a noncommittal sound, hoping that would end their discussion of his future bride.

“Do you love her?”

He scowled. No such luck. “It is not necessary for Lady Francesca and I to have anything in common but our names and our children.”

“That’s a rather… mercenary view to have of marriage.”

“I’m a rather mercenary sort of fellow.”

She chewed her lip. “Do you even like her?”