Page 12 of How Not to Marry a Duke

“Enough!” Warwick roared. “Don’t disparage your sister’s family that way.”

Adeline gaped, completely taken aback at Warwick’s unexpected defense. He may be an arrogant aristocrat himself, but it was clear he could not abide her brother’s prejudice.

Her gaze returned to Edwin, a cold knot forming in her stomach as she faced him. “As for my mother’s ‘concoctions,’ they saved lives.” Edwin had never understood her mother’s healing abilities, and the fact that Adeline followed in her mother’s footsteps had irked him even more.

Edwin pointed a finger at her. “This isn’t resolved, Adeline.”

She raised her chin a notch and met his icy gaze. “It is for today. I think you should leave, my lord.” Of the two men in her home, she wanted Edwin gone more. Both had surprised her this morning, Edwin with his demand that she marry a stranger—a moneylender, no less—and the duke with his mad outburst that he was courting her.

Her brother’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident in his blotched complexion. He looked like he wanted to throttle her. Until today, he’d never placed a hand on her. His cruel comments had been sufficient barbs.

Still, she was aware of Warwick standing to the side, tall and solid, and for several passing heartbeats, she was relieved for his presence.

Edwin turned on his heel and stormed out of the cottage. She held her tongue until his carriage door closed, and the conveyance departed down the winding country road before whirling to face her neighbor.

“Pray tell me what were you thinking, Your Grace?”

…

As far as questions went, the lady’s was succinct and to the point. It was the same question Warwick had been asking himself in the few moments since Lord Foster had departed.

What the hell had I been thinking to claim I was courting her?

A logical man thought things through. Spontaneity was not in his nature. Impulsiveness led to dangerous experiments and failed laboratory results. The burn on his arm was evidence of this fact. He’d been pressed to show his results with his experiment of a fast-burning gunpowder, and he’d experienced the consequences of his haste. Perhaps the heightened pain of the burn had affected his behavior.

It was suddenly quiet in the cottage, and he was aware of Adeline’s gaze. The shade of blue was unlike any other he’d seen. Not quite sapphire. Not cornflower blue. A deep azure with chips of black.

Good God. Why am I thinking of her eye color?

There had to be a good reason for his behavior. Except, there wasn’t.

Which left him one option—bluff.

“It makes perfect sense.” His voice held an entirely fabricated note of confidence.

“How so, Your Grace?”

The sarcasm in her tone when she used his title was apparent. He couldn’t fault her. He’d had no intention of revealing his identity; he’d planned on residing in the small village with no one the wiser. But he’d also never anticipated that his neighbor would be the Earl of Foster’s sister. Of all the rotten luck.

She tapped a toe. “Well?”

How to explain his behavior? “Well, I overheard your predicament with your brother, Lord Foster.”

“My half brother.” Her brow furrowed. “You eavesdropped?”

“Not quite. A person eavesdrops only if they have intent to do so. I had no such interest. Your argument was loud enough to wake the dead.”

Indignation lit her eyes. “I beg your pardon. You’re the one who trespassed on my property, not once, but twice.”

“I had no choice. Your pig trespassed on mine.”

Her eyebrows arched. “I find that hard to believe. Henry has never wandered away before.”

“Not only did he wander, but he also entered my home.” The memory of the pig helping himself to the pillow on the sofa in his study was not one he would easily forget. “I had to bribe him with food to return here.”

“He must like you. Otherwise, Henry wouldn’t have visited.” She bit her bottom lip, and his gaze lowered to her mouth. She had kissable lips, plump and pink.

Do not think of her lips. Or her eyes, no matter how fascinating the color.