“I say it was a kiss.”
“I say it was not, and I believe I know more about kissing than you do.”
Daphne stiffened. “Do not laugh at me.”
“Laugh?” He shook his head. “I am not laughing. Indeed, I am in no mood to laugh just now, especially not at you. I am attempting to hide the strain you are putting on me at this moment.”
She gave a huff of disbelief. “Rot.”
“It is true. I am exerting a great deal of gentlemanly effort to not capitulate and kiss you first.”
“Gentlemanly? Trapping a young lady against a wall and attempting blackmail to kiss her is hardly gentlemanly.”
“I am not even touching you. This is hardly blackmail, for you know full well I will give your spectacles back to you in the end. As for being trapped, you are in no such position. If you wish to leave, then go. I will not stop you.”
“I—” She stopped, swallowed hard, and did not move. “I do not think this is a game at all.”
“But it is. We are engaged in a power struggle, you and I. Do you not see how much power you could have over me?”
She felt so out of her depth with him. “The only thing I see is that if we are playing a game, it is by your rules.”
“On the contrary, the rules are in your favor, for as a gentleman, I am not actually permitted to kiss you, and you can torment me forever with the unspoken promise of one.”
She tilted her head, slanting a speculative look at him, and she wondered if that was really true, or if he was being deliberately provoking. He claimed that women had enormous power over men, but she had never felt any power over him. Quite the reverse, in fact. Turning the tables was too tempting to resist, and Daphne decided to test his claim.
She licked her lips again, and this time, it was she who moved closer. “You mean like this?” she whispered, concentrating on getting one thing out of this situation, knowing there was only one way to win this game of his. “Am I tormenting you?”
“You are a very quick study, Miss Wade.” He was rigidly still.
“Was that a compliment to my intelligence, your grace? I am flattered.”
“Right now, I must confess that your intelligence is the last thing I am thinking of. Shallow of me, but there it is. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
“There is no need.” It was Daphne’s turn to smile as she pulled back and held up her hand between them. The metal and glass of her spectacles glinted in the candlelight.
Never had anything pleased her more than the astonishment on his face. Before he could recover enough from the shock to retaliate by claiming his kiss, she ducked beneath his arm and moved well out of reach. Facing him, she put her eyeglasses back on, feeling the sweet satisfaction of having the upper hand for once. “I believe I have won this game, your grace.”
With that, she turned around and departed.
“Only the first round, Miss Wade,” he called after her, his laughter following her out the door. “Only the first round.”
Chapter 16
As she had agreed, Daphne took tea that Sunday with the Benningtons at the home of Sir Edward and Lady Fitzhugh. As expected, talk about their most eminent neighbor was the order of the day.
Mrs. Bennington opened the topic. “Yesterday, I received an exciting piece of news regarding his grace. My very good friend, Margaret Treves, lives in London, and she has just written to tell me everyone is talking of the duke’s visit there six weeks ago.” She leaned forward in her chair, her plump cheeks flushing with the excitement of being the first to impart gossip. “He was said to have brought the ducal emeralds with him to Bond Street to be reset. That can only mean one thing, of course.”
“Yes,” Anne put in, “the society papers have been talking of it for weeks, speculating on who his choice might be. Most agree that Lady Sarah Monforth would be the most sensible.”
The affirmation of what she had overheard in the music room caused Daphne to pinch the handle of her teacup so tightly that her fingers began to ache.
“Ah, yes, the Marquess of Monforth’s eldest daughter,” said Lady Fitzhugh. “Yes, she would be very suitable, though I would not have thought her to be quite his type.”
“A beautiful woman is always a man’s type,” said Sir Edward, earning such a look from his wife that he said no more.
Daphne closed her eyes for a brief moment, remembering Viola’s words that night in the music room.
You are the Duke of Tremore and should marry high for duty’s sake, even if your choice is without love and affection.
