Page 14 of How Not to Marry a Duke

Her eyes. Her lips. Now her breasts. He tore his gaze away, but the image was hard to scrub from his mind. What was wrong with him?

Biology. What red-blooded man wouldn’t notice?

She halted and measured him with a cool, appraising look. “If I agree to this, we’d have to return to Town.”

The simple statement had the same effect as if she’d tossed a bucket of cold water over his head. His gaze snapped back to hers. “What? Why?”

This was unexpected and unwanted. He hadn’t intended to return to London during the current Season, but to remain in Kent until all his work was completed to his specifications.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t be daft! How else are we to convince both Lord Foster and your godmother of the charade? We must be seen together in London. Do you have a better idea?”

He felt as if a suffocating hand was closing around his throat. She was right, dammit. Still, he loathed to consent. He had no wish to return and face the beau monde…or his godmother. He hated Society events. “A week at most.”

She tossed a lock of dark hair across her shoulder and shook her head. “Two, at least. We have to attend balls, garden parties, and be seen together by High Society.”

He narrowed his eyes. “How many balls and parties?”

“As many as needed. And you’d have to woo me with flowers, chocolate, and poetry.”

He scrunched his nose at the last item on her list. “You cannot be serious.”

Her lips twisted upward in a half smile. “You told Edwin as much regarding poetry.”

Among other things, he regretted ever mentioning poetry to Lord Foster. He supposed he could hire someone to write a blasted poem or two. Starving artists were plentiful in town. He needed all his spare time to improve the efficiency of the high-pressure steam pistons.

She bit her full lower lip. “We must rehearse. Get to know basic facts about each other.”

“Such as?” He had made the offer, but she was quickly taking over with stipulations. Had he made a mistake? At each item she listed, his nerves tightened incrementally like one of his workshop screws. Clearly, he hadn’t thought everything through. Another first for him.

She waved a hand. “Oh, all the ordinary things couples know about each other. Our favorite pastimes, favorite colors, funny stories about our childhoods. Lord Foster will not easily be misled.”

And his godmother was far shrewder than Edwin. He supposed it was a good idea to know these things about each other before he introduced Adeline to Lady Heywood. He anticipated that she would have dozens of questions for him and Adeline. His godmother was not an ordinary lady and could be quite eccentric. If anyone could ferret out their charade, it would be his godmother.

“You agree?” Adeline folded her hands before her and waited.

The initial idea had been his own. As for her terms, he had quickly realized that he had little choice. “I suppose.”

“You suppose? Do you consent or not?”

Christ! She was bossy and argumentative. “Yes. Yes, I agree.”

She nodded. “Good. It’s settled then.”

The tightening in his chest eased, but at the same time, the burn on his forearm began to throb anew. It was as if now that they had an understanding, he grew more aware of his own discomfort.

The wound was tightly wrapped beneath his shirtsleeve, and he couldn’t wait to remove the constraining bandages. He needed to get back home. His trusted butler, Nelson, had been following the doctor’s orders, and Warwick needed another treatment. And a glass of whisky. Or two.

“How did you injure your arm, Your Grace?” Adeline’s voice was soft and inquisitive. Her tone was different, and it caught him off guard.

She was no longer looking at him, but her gaze had lowered to his arm. He realized he’d been clutching his forearm just above the wound. He dropped his hand.

The burn was hidden beneath his shirtsleeves. “It’s nothing. An old injury.”

“I don’t believe that. You flinched when Henry first greeted you.”

“He didn’t greet me, he charged me.”

Her eyes flashed blue fire. Whatever softness had touched her voice was gone. “You are in the country. Mishaps with farm animals are a risk.”