He thought of Louisa again, who might have been his sister-in-law if circumstances had been different. A woman so full of opinions and friendly argument and humor that, even now, he missed thenoiseof her in Thornhill Grange. She was neverafraid to tease and laugh boldly, and hoped that, wherever she was, she was still causing that glorious kind of trouble. Valeria would have liked her very much; he was sure of that.
“Up on your feet,” he instructed, holding out his hands to her.
She neglected to take them and remained seated.
“Very well, stay there,” he said, rising up. “We can pretend that you are sitting at a table in a ballroom, minding your own business, when you are approached…”
He walked in a small circle and came back toward her, sauntering a little, acting like an eager but inexperienced gentleman might.
“My goodness, what a rare bird—I simplymustknow who you are!” he cried, resting one hand on the armrest, leaning in at a diagonal.
Valeria raised an eyebrow. “Why must you? Are you in need of something else to cage in your menagerie? I should warn you; I peck.”
“Try again!” he demanded, turning a circle and coming back to the same position. “My goodness, what a beauty you are—I simply must know who you are!”
She puffed out a breath that blew a lock of auburn hair out of her face. “This is stupid.”
“This is how you learn,” he replied with a grin. “The more stupid you feel now, the less awkward you will feel when it happens in the real world. This is war, Valeria, and we are in training.”
“Come now, it is hardly war.”
He clicked his tongue. “Au contraire. You are about to charge into battle for the victory of holy matrimony, and you are fighting againstseven yearsof younger women. You have no allies. All are enemies. What is that if not warfare?” He cleared his throat. “I could not help but stop by your table, miss, for I was halted by your beauty—tell me, I must know; who are you?”
She rolled her eyes and straightened up. “Miss Valeria Maxwell.”
“And…?” he prompted.
“And what? That is who I am. I answered your question.”
“Terrible. The worst.” He grabbed her hands and hoisted her out of the chair, ushering her a short distance away. “I will be you. You be a gentleman and let me show you how it is done.”
She gaped at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am entirely serious, for you are more hopeless than I feared,” he replied, flashing a wink.
Arranging himself into a more feminine posture, his legs crossed, leaning ever-so daintily on the armrest, batting his eyelashes at Valeria until he caught a smile cracking across her face, he waited.
I would see you smile more, Miss Maxwell. I would hear you laugh.Not as part of his lessons, but for himself.
Grimacing and pausing for a breath, Valeria approached with the kind of swagger that Duncan had seen all too often. Indeed, if she did not succeed in marriage, perhaps she could be a gifted thespian instead.
“I had no choice but to introduce myself,” Valeria said in her deepest voice. “I could not walk by without doing so, seeing your beauty.”
She smothered a laugh as Duncan fluttered his surprisingly long eyelashes at her and clasped a hand to his chest. He turned his head to look behind him, returning his gaze to Valeria’s with an undeniable smolder in those dark blue pools.
“You cannot possibly be talking to me,” he replied, hiding a smile behind his hand. “Ah, I see what has happened—you must have caught your reflection in the window.”
Valeria frowned, doubting that such a remark would ever work. “What is your name?”
“A touch bold, do you not think?” Duncan answered, pretending to be scandalized. “I do not make a habit of giving my name to strangers, and I do not know you at all.”
Her frown deepened, for she was quite certain that ifshesaid that, it would be enough to scare a man away. Yet, from him, it sounded… friendlier. A tease, rather than a telling off. A balancing act that she lacked the skill to execute.
“Forgive me.” Valeria took a breath, glancing around the room for inspiration. “I am… Duncan Fireplace, Earl of… Parquet.”
He snorted, that joyful laughter bubbling up again. His hand clamped over his mouth to try and stop it, and Valeria almost reached out to draw that hand away. She wanted to hear him laugh like that again, for though he was never without a smirk on his face and a rumbling chuckle in his throat, the hearty sound of his truest laughter was infectious.
“Well, Lord Parquet,” Duncan croaked, banging on his broad chest, “tell me a secret and I shall tell you my name.”
