Page 7 of The Duke I Wished For
“One typically starts with an introduction.”
“How right you are,” she murmured placatingly as her gaze darted left and right for any sign of her mother or Mr. Benson. Then she smiled up at him. “But where’s the fun in that?”
He regarded her oddly. “I think I know what’s going on here.”
“You do?”
“Where’s your mother?” He craned his neck, looking left and right. “It’s normally the mothers who are this brazen, but I suppose in some cases the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Her smile faltered.
“So you wish to get to know each other, hmm? Let’s start with this. What are your interests?”
“My interests?” It wasn’t the question that was so odd, but the tone. Like she was being quizzed…
Or interviewed.
He sighed. “What would you be doing with yourself if you were not here this evening, throwing yourself in my path?”
Now that was easy to answer. “I’d be dancing.”
Her sister and their friends would be taking dance classes right about now back at school, and Daffodil wished so badly she was with them, she felt the ache of it all the way to her bones. Which was why her tone was more wistful than absolutely necessary when she said on a sigh, “Oh yes, I would so love to dance.”
“I see.”
Why he sounded so disapproving was beyond her. “Do you not enjoy dancing, Mr.…?”
He ignored that. His gaze focused on her so intently her breath caught. “What are your talents?”
“M-my…pardon?”
He waved a hand. “Music, embroidery, entertaining…that sort of thing.”
“Oh, well…” None of the above, she could say. But the answer was too depressing. Not only did she not have a goal, she also had no talents. “Is that really so important?”
He arched a brow. “For a wife and mother it is.”
Her smile fell even further, her heart sinking a bit. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? All these years of lessons and tutoring, and all for one goal—to marry a man with wealth. But…but what if…
What if she didn’t wish to marry at all?
The thought seemed to echo in her skull. The question she hadn’t allowed herself to consider and now it was here, crashing into her as she stared into the cold, hard eyes of a stranger.
“I hardly see how excellent embroidering skills would make a woman a good wife,” she said. She thought of her mother’s immeasurable talents. “And they certainly do not determine whether a woman would be a loving mother.”
He pressed his lips together. “And you are well versed on being a wife and mother then, are you?”
Heat crept into her cheeks and her cheerful smile disappeared. She was beginning to think she might not like this man…no matter how excellent a safe haven he might appear.
And yet, surely Mr. Benson lurked just beyond. That last thought had her calling the smile back upon her lips as she made to deliver some witty answer…
2
Blast, this woman.
Frustration rumbled through Blake’s chest as he suppressed a groan. The tart in front of him was as lovely as she was empty-headed.
The way she spoke to him was beyond impertinent. Did she have any idea to whom she was speaking? Of course she did. Why else would she have so brazenly accosted him at this party? She’d addressed him incorrectly multiple times now, but that was no doubt further evidence of her indecorous manners.
