Page 24 of When a Duke Loves a Woman
“When you were caring for me, you were offended when I used the term bastard.”
“Not offended. Disappointed.”
Her words were a hard kick to the gut. He didn’t know why he had no desire to disappoint this woman or why he was intent on impressing her to such a degree that he’d removed the sling supporting his arm before exiting his coach so she wouldn’t view him as a complete invalid. He’d been brought up to recognize that he had an exalted place in Society simply because of the circumstances surrounding his birth. “People are judged by their entry into the world.”
“Unfortunately. It’s not right for opinions regarding us to be based on something over which we have no control.”
He gave her a slightly mocking grin. “You swore when you learned I was a duke. Practicing what you are now preaching against?”
Uncrossing her arms, she ran her finger along the edge of her glass. “It wasn’t because I was judging you poorly. It was...” Her voice trailing off, she glanced around her establishment, then released a quick harsh burst of laughter before bringing her gaze back to his. “We can’t really be friends, can we? Different places in Society, and all that. I suppose, when you walked through the door, I’d hoped we might be.”
He’d rather hoped so as well, but she had the right of it. Every person he considered a friend could trace his or her lineage back generations. Their blood was untainted. They were purebreds. “Do you know who your parents are?”
Taking a small sip of her whisky, she shook her head. “I know nothing at all about my parents or where they came from. I was left in a basket on Ettie Trewlove’s doorstep.”
She spoke as though it hadn’t been devastating to be abandoned in such a manner, but how could it have not been? “Aren’t you curious?”
“Not even a smidge. She’s my mum. She, along with my brothers and sister, are my family. I’ll be honest with you, Your Grace, I don’t give a bloody damn that I’m illegitimate, was born out of wedlock. The circumstances of my birth don’t affect me now. I’ve got my family, my friends, my tavern, my home. That’s all that matters to me. And I’m happy. I don’t go hungry or cold. What more could I ask for?”
Love came to mind, which was an odd thing when he hadn’t even considered it a necessary requirement for marriage. Love was an emotion other people were allowed to experience but a man in his position couldn’t indulge in such frivolity. “A husband and children of your own?”
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “You offering?”
Her bluntness nearly had him reeling back in his chair, as did the realization he wasn’t as opposed to the idea as he should have been. She was wrong for him on many levels and he was wrong for her on many more. Yet he couldn’t help but think she’d bring a warmth to his life that had always been absent. Still there was no hope for them, and she was teasing anyway. “Afraid not.”
“Then it’s not really your business, is it?”
“I suppose you have a point.”
She scooted back her chair. “It was good to see you’re recovering, Your Grace, but I’ve customers to see to.”
“I’m not done here.”
Halfway out of her chair, she gave him a look that no doubt would send many a man scurrying for the door. “I’m not one of your servants to be ordered about.”
He assumed the scraping of a distant chair was her brother coming to his feet. “I apologize for the blunt wording, but I came here for a purpose and I’ve not yet seen to it. Please sit.”
Looking past him, no doubt to her brother, she gave a quick shake of her head before dropping back into her chair. “Get on with it then.”
“I need your help finding someone.”
“The footpads who made off with your watch?”
“No. My bride.”
Chapter 8
His pronouncement shouldn’t have twisted her heart, crushed her chest. She was a silly goose to have entertained for even a few seconds he might have been making an offer when he’d mentioned husband and children. Of course they’d never marry. He was a bloody duke and she a tavern owner. But still, the knowledge that he wanted her to help him find a bride was ludicrous. Perhaps he’d taken a blow to the head that had turned him into a simpleton. “You want me to serve as a matchmaker?”
His lips twisted into an ironic grin. “Hardly. I was in this area of London the night we met searching for the woman who had left me standing at the altar earlier in the day.”
“Don’t take this wrong, but if she left you”—she couldn’t imagine any woman being daft enough to do such a thing—“mayhap you’d be better off letting her go.”
“No doubt. But that is presently not an option. It’s imperative I find her.”
He had to love her desperately to be so intent on locating her. “What makes you think she’s in this area?”
“She’d discussed her destination with one of the staff after making her retreat from the church.”
