Page 4 of All Duke and Bothered

“And what, pray tell, is the reason for their interest, then?” she asked.

“I know for a fact that all the men who are interested in you tonight want a flirt with a decent enough face who would please them no matter what they said or did.”

The rudeness of his words hit her like a slap. She stumbled, skipped a step, and hurried to resume the dance. How could a duke—a gentleman—be so boorish?

“Excuse me?” she asked through a parched throat.

“You heard me. Even your papa confirmed that.”

Anger roared through her. Her breath accelerated as she and the duke walked in a circle as part of the dance, holding hands. Worst was that was exactly what she thought of herself. She knew she had a decent face, thanks to her mama, who had been a beauty.

But she was also raised to be obedient, to be pleasing, to smile, and to hold an entertaining conversation.

And so, she was obedient and pleasing to her father, holding off her dreams, never openly confronting him about him forbidding her to paint, never mentioning her unconventional goal to be a true artist.

But a flirt…no. He was definitely wrong there. She never flirted with a man aside from showing a polite interest. She did nothing that would give anyone a false hope.

“How dare you?” she demanded. “You do not know me at all.”

“But I do,” he said, his voice full of malice. “I watched you with my brother. You smiling at him at every moment. You smile at every man here, encouraging them, do you not?”

She was boiling now from the inside out. She kept stumbling and taking the wrong steps, barely able to breathe. “Encouraging what?”

“You know what. Everyone knows your father is penniless and you need a rich husband to save him. You hunt for fortunes.”

Papa was penniless? She knew things were bad, but penniless? Looking for a rich husband—no. She had never thought to improve their situation through a marriage. And no matter how much Papa ignored her, he would never want her to marry a rich man knowing she’d be unhappy her whole life.

She ached to abandon the dance and just run. But Papa had managed to get the vouchers for the ball with great difficulty, and if she left, that would be a complete social disgrace. And not just on her, but also on Papa and on Alex.

“That was all you wanted from Spencer, was it not?” continued the duke.

Her chest was about to burst. Prickly tears burned the backs of her eyes. She could not cause a scene in the middle of Almack’s! She could not!

“I did no such thing. Your brother, God save his soul, and I were nothing more than friends.”

The duke shook his head, his beautiful chin protruding angrily. “Lies and more lies. You knew you were so much more than that to him. All you wanted was his money.”

She needed to remember to breathe, she reminded herself. If she didn’t want to burst into tears, she needed to breathe. She just had to get through this dance, and then she would not be required to talk to him ever again.

“I always knew dukes were prejudiced, arrogant, and self-centered,” she hissed, “and you are the best example.”

A lazy one-sided smile spread on his lips. “Finally. Telling the truth, Miss Beckett.”

“If you think so ill of me, why did you ask me to dance?”

“I wanted to confirm whether or not my impression of you was true.”

“And you’re basing your conclusion on the few words that we’ve just exchanged with each other?”

The music ended, and she pulled away, but he held her gloved hand in his, his touch scalding her. He cocked his eyebrow and lowered his face closer to hers. “I knew the real you long before we were introduced.”

“Well, Duke, you won’t have to bear my company any longer. I do not want to be in yours ever again.”

She tore her hand from his and hurried from the ballroom. She marched by Alex.

“Penelope—” Alex called after her, but she didn’t stop. There was a door opposite the cloakroom and she rushed inside. A large tea room, empty and quiet now. Moonlight fell through the arched windows onto the sofas and round tables and the grand piano in the corner. The noise and the laughter coming from the ballroom were muffled here, but anger surged through Penelope.

She slumped onto a sofa and breathed heavily, the need to burst into tears burning her chest. But she wouldn’t cry because of him.