Page 16 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“Tell me about this odd family of yours,” she demanded. “With its commoners and nobility.”
He swirled his glass, watched the wine create a vortex that could suck him under if he wasn’t careful. “People met, fell in love with no consideration for rank or propriety, married, had children. Boring. I’d rather talk about you.”
“Presently, I’m dreadfully boring. I’ve been in respectable mourning for two years. Now I am ready to experience life again. I want to make the most of it.”
Reaching across the table, he took her hand and stroked his thumb over her knuckles. “I can help you achieve that goal.”
She once more released the light laughter that teased the edges of his soul. “You’re not at all arrogant, are you?”
“I know what I want and I’m accustomed to acquiring it.”
She slipped her hand from his. “If you discover the price is exceedingly high?”
“I think you would be worth any price.”
“I’m not a whore, Your Grace.”
“Neither are you an innocent. You know we’re engaged in a game of seduction.”
She angled her head, peered at him through lowered lashes. “Yes, and I also know I hold all the cards.”
Rose was grateful when the turtle soup arrived. Not that her stomach was relaxed enough to truly enjoy the delicacy.
She’d never had a man be so bold in insinuating what he wanted. He both frightened and excited her. The way he watched her, the way his gaze slowly roamed over her as though he could quite clearly envision her without her clothing. The odd thing was that she found herself wondering what he might look like beneath the gentleman’s attire.
She had never found herself drawn to a man in this manner, had never itched to loosen buttons or remove a neck cloth. Had never wanted to order him to stand perfectly still while she unwrapped him as though he were a gift. She had little doubt that Avendale was a gift—probably from Lucifer himself. He was certainly no angel.
At certain moments, she forgot that they weren’t alone here, that her thoughts were entirely inappropriate, that his innuendoes were deserving of a slap.
Yet at the same time, the lonely woman inside her was flattered by his attentions, even though she understood that she was merely a novelty. Once he acquired what he wanted, he would be done with her. He was a man of passions that she suspected changed with the wind.
Presently the wind was blowing in her direction and she needed to make the most of it. Who knew when it would begin gusting elsewhere?
“What is your name?” she asked, noticing that he’d barely touched the soup and was again indulging in the wine.
“Avendale.”
“Your mother gave you a name when you were born. What was it?”
“Actually, I suspect it was my father who provided the name. As I understand it he was very specific regarding how things were to be done.”
“How old were you when he died?”
“Four when they told me he was killed in a fire.”
Odd phrasing, she thought, but she suspected any specific inquiry regarding it would be rebuffed, so she moved on. “Do you remember him?”
“Benjamin Paul Buckland, Earl of Whitson, Duke of Avendale,” he said abruptly, obviously not intending to answer her question about his father. “From the moment I was born, I carried the courtesy title of the Earl of Whitson. To this day, my mother calls me Whit more often than she calls me Avendale. No one, absolutely no one, calls me Benjamin or Paul. That, sweetheart, is the extent to which I will share anything about my family or my past. They have no place in my life.”
“The past is always there,” she told him. “You might ignore it, but you would be a fool not to recognize its influence, and you don’t strike me as a fool.”
“I’m interested in you, aren’t I? That should prove me not to be a fool.”
The opposite, she thought. It proved the opposite.
The next dish was brought out. Duck glazed in some sort of orange concoction that she wished she could take home to Harry. Sally cooked but her skills leaned more toward hearty food that put meat on bones, not that one could tell by looking at Rose. She was quite conscientious regarding her figure since she considered it her most alluring asset when it came to capturing the attention of the males of her species.
“Have you a box at the theater?” she asked.
