Page 7 of Her Duke By Accident
The lady swayed, almost on the brink of collapse when Matthew rolled his eyes, taking a few steps in her direction. Without a word, he set her down in a plush seat beside the wall. “You’re looking quite pale again,” he muttered, annoyance tainting his words.
She stared at her hands as though she hadn’t heard him. “I–I can’t remember the last thing I ate.”
“What a,” he paused, eyeing her sideways, “peculiarthing to say.”
“No, Your Grace. I’m saying it is why I fell.”
He looked her up and down. “That would explain it.”
“There was so much time spent on being prepared, and with my brother, I couldn’t falter,” she said. Quickly, she added, “Not that it’s anyone else's fault.”
Giving her a perplexed look, Matthew patted her hand reassuringly. “Worry not, my lady,” he said with a curt bow. “You should regain your composure in no time and return to the festivities.”
Matthew took it as his final leave. The girl seemed well enough to be left alone once more. Color hadn’t yet reached her face, but time could repair that. He did his gentlemanly diligence and feared being trapped in an improper situation with a girl he did not trust.
“Your Grace,” she called out once more.
“My lady,” he said before she could continue, “I should be taking my leave.”
“There is brandy over there.”
Matthew looked over his shoulder. There was a short end table with a few glasses and a decanter filled with brandy. He raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes, my lady.”
“If you can pour me a glass,” she said, “I will be all right alone.”
Despite every instinct within him telling him to run, Matthew sighed, and slowly crept over to the brandy. “You must be quite desperate to try such tricks like these,” he drawled, taking his time with the drink.
She exhaled. “Your Grace?—”
“I wonder what kind of a situation your family must be in to try something so pitiful.”
The girl didn’t reply this time, just covered her eyes with her palm. There was a paleness in her that might be brought back to life through a drink, but he couldn’t ignore his instinct.
“Who taught you?”
“Your Grace, I was not taught anything unlike every other lady at this ball.”
“Truly?” he mocked. “No vengeful mama showed you the ways to trick a bachelor into a marriage? No angry brother told you the things that could make a gentlemen stay?”
“I find your words to be incredibly offensive, Your Grace.”
Matthew walked back to her, brandy in hand. “Your acting is much better than the others, I will say that.”
“Your Grace,” she began, “I don’t understand what I have done to make you say such things.”
He paused directly in front of her, still holding the drink. “Your tricks won’t work on me.”
“What tricks?”
“Try all you might, but they won’t work.”
The girl reached for the glass, but he pulled backwards.
“Your Grace?—”
“Even if we are caught here,” he said, “I would not marry you.”
She met his eyes. “What?”
