Page 20 of The Scottish Duke Tames the Bluestocking
“You are right,” she agreed. “All will be well.”
If there was one thing Harriet soon found she could say about the Duke, it was that he was certainly true to his word. This, of course, was a relief - and it echoed her mother’s sentiments that all may be well.
Hugh wasted no time, calling upon Harriet the very next day. She was sat in the drawing-room once more, when a quiet knock alerted her to his presence. Drawing a steady breath, Harriet pasted on a carefully composed smile and looked up as the imposing Scotsman entered the drawing-room.
“Your Grace,” she greeted with a shallow dip of her head. “How kind of you to call upon me.”
Hugh flashed her a grin and inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I am a man of me word, lass,” he rumbled. “When I commit to somethin’ I see it through.”
Harriet lifted her chin a fraction, refusing to be unsettled by his bold declaration.
Casting about for a suitable diversion, her gaze fell upon the gleaming mahogany card table nestled in the corner. A spark of mischief kindled in her breast as a rather outrageous notion took root.
“Well then,” she said brightly and gestured towards the table with a mischievous grin. “Since you’re so committed to our... arrangement, perhaps you would care to join me in a friendly game of cards?”
Hugh's brows hiked upwards in surprise at her unconventional suggestion, but to her delight, he didn't refuse outright. Instead, a considering light entered his oceanic eyes as he studied her, head cocked slightly to one side.
He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he looked at her and a rueful grin formed on his face. “Cards, ye say? An’ here I thought proper young ladies werenae meant to indulge in diversions of that kind.”
Harriet’s smile widened at that and a reckless bravado took hold of her. “There is your first mistake, Your Grace. You ought to know that I am hardly a proper lady by most standards.”
She took a step closer to him and looked up at him, her gaze daring.
“I do find a bit of friendly competition quite invigorating. Don’t you?”
She paused when he did not respond immediately, arching her brow in a silent challenge. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer a more sedate activity befitting a duke. Perhaps a leisurely stroll around the garden? We could watch the flowers grow.”
Hugh’s smile broadened at this, and he too arched a brow. “Careful, lass,” he warned, his voice deep. “I’d hate for ye to underestimate me based on mere appearances. A wee game of cards sounds great - lead the way.”
Barely suppressing a crow of triumph, Harriet ushered him towards the table, her skirts swishing about her ankles as anticipation thrummed through her veins. This was her chance to ruffle the unflappable Scot's feathers. She was certain that he would be overwhelmed by discomfort due to her refusal to bow to society’s given standards.
Hugh, however, seemed unaffected. He looked cool and calm as he took a seat across from her. Harriet glanced at him curiously before retrieving a well-worn deck of cards from the table drawer and shuffling them with ease. Hugh watched her movements through hooded eyes, a speculative smirk playing around his lips.
“What shall we play then, lass?” He shifted his seat and settled back in his chair, an air languid unconcern. “Whist? Brag? Piquet?”
Harriet’s lips curved in a sly smile and she tilted her head as she dealt the cards with a flick of her wrist.
“Oh, I thought we might make things a bit more interesting,” she replied innocently. “Have you ever played Commerce, Your Grace?”
Hugh's brow furrowed slightly at the unfamiliar name, but he merely shrugged. “Cannae say I have, but I'm game for anythin' at this point.”
“Oh, how delightful.” Harriet’s smile turned positively wicked at this. “The rules are simple,” she announced before launching into a quick explanation. She watched Hugh's expression keenly for any sign of apprehension but to her consternation, he merely nodded amiably.
“Perhaps,” she offered eagerly, hopeful to dissuade him from playing the game to begin with, “we should wager something.”
Surely, Harriet thought, he would refuse to wager anything - it was far too ungentlemanly to wager against a lady.
“Oh?”
Rather than affronted, the syllable leaving his lips was curious - intrigued even. “A wager indeed? It sounds like something I could do.”
Harriet leaned forward slightly and a smirk formed on her lips.
“My suggestion is that the one who is victorious can request a favor from the other.”
Hugh did not answer - instead, he just lifted a brow and gave her the courtesy of a slight nod. Harriet immediately threw herself into the game with gusto - determined to unsettle the Duke through sheer brazenness. She lifted her chin as she placed a reckless bet and she tossed her chips onto the table with an insouciant air that bordered on scandalous impropriety.
A sly grin settled around her lips at her own daring. Surely the Duke would recoil from this unladylike behavior.
