Page 47 of The Duke of Fire
She smirked. “Are you afraid of playing if you are not the one who made the rules?”
He tilted his head, and for a beat, said nothing. Then, “No. Of course not.”
The tension between them stretched taut like a silken thread.
“What game do you propose, then?”
“Two truths and a lie,” she said, her smile widening, her eyes glinting with challenge. “I tell you three things about myself. You guess which is the lie.”
He regarded her carefully, his expression sharpening. “A ploy to extract confessions from me under the guise of entertainment?”
“Are you afraid you might lose?” she asked sweetly.
His lips twitched, but he did not smile. “Never.”
She leaned slightly closer. “Then play.”
Amelia hoped the duke would take it as a game when it was nothing more than a blatant bid for more information from him. Surprisingly, he looked like he was thinking about it. Finally, he nodded reluctantly. “Let’s see how this goes.”
“I will begin,” she reassured him. “I once ran away to become a governess. I wanted to become a boy when I was younger. I hate peonies.”
“Too easy. The only lie I can detect is the third statement. You need to work on this more, Miss Warton,” Sebastian murmured, shaking his head as if disappointed she did not challenge his mind more.
“Indeed,” Amelia agreed. “I wanted the freedom of being a boy. I also attempted to run away from home after my parents died. Thankfully, only Finch knew about it.”
“Your brother? Why would you even want to run away? Are they treating you badly at home?”
“They do not hurt me… physically.”Or at least they did not.
“There are other ways to hurt people.” Amelia hated that his voice had softened. It was making her forget what kind of person he was. “I have noticed, and others have, too.”
“Oh, have you?” she asked, sounding more bitter than she intended.
“If they behave like that when people are watching, I cannot imagine what they are like behind closed doors.”
“Never mind that,” she said dismissively. “What is important is that I love peonies.”
“I will take note of that information,” he promised.
“Now, it is your turn,” she reminded him, looking down at her nearly empty plate. She had not eaten this much in such a long time. Finch and Octavia constantly reminded her that feeding her was costing them.
Amelia realized that she was staring into space, and Sebastian was watching her curiously.
“Well?” she asked, pretending as if she had been waiting for his answers all along.
“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled, straightening his back. He had grown rigid, and Amelia almost expected him to leave the small private dining room he must have had servants especially prepared for her.
“I played. So, you must play, or else you lose,” she said.
That made his jaw tick. Amelia was right. The prospect of losing was unwelcome. The duke would play for the sake of not losing, even though there were no rules laid out.
“Well, I own a vineyard in France. I was once challenged to a duel in Italy, where I shot a man in the leg. I cannot whistle to save my life.”
None of the statements was something Amelia had hoped to hear. They could be facts about him, but each one felt too detached. They made him a colorful being, but that still did nottell her what she needed to know.
“You shot someone. That is the lie,” she said, not really certain. She suspected she was wrong.
He chuckled, seemingly pleased to have won.
