Duncan puffed out a breath, shaking his head. “Neither do I.”
“Are you saying you want to be… more like him?”
“I could never be so perfect,” he replied, a bite in his tone.
Indeed, if he had had a pound for every time his father had uttered the refrain, “Would it kill you to be more like your brother?” then Duncan would have been the wealthiest man in England. Sometimes, it bothered him that he had proven his father right. Sometimes, it satisfied him to be the very opposite of what his father had wanted him to be.
“If you are trying to hinder me so that you might try to kiss me again, it will not work,” she said bluntly, surprising him. “I am sorry for your loss—I know the pain of grief myself— and I am sorry that you are in a role you never asked for—I know that pain too—but if we are to have a peaceable few days, then I think it would be best if we kept our distance. Youcannotdistract me again.”
Frustration bristled through his veins, seeing that familiar fire in her eyes. Indeed, he wished he had not let her go, so they might be standing at the fence still, his arms around her.
“I do not kiss the unwilling,” he replied brusquely, for he had seen the want in her face. It had not been the first time, either.
“You… approached me at a vulnerable moment,” she said, resting her hands on her hips, all but confirming that she had wanted to kiss him too. “But if there is nothing to be gained from this association, then I am certainly not going to ruin my reputation by kissing you.”
He tilted his head to one side, frowning down at her. “Nothing to be gained? Can a kiss not just be a kiss?”
“No, as you are well aware,” she shot back, at the same moment that his mind whispered,No, of course it cannot. Not with her, anyway.
Suddenly overwrought by the conversation, he clawed a hand through his hair, sighing with his entire chest. “I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. I did not want you wandering back to the manor upset, or… in any distress. Whatever you might believe, Valery, Idowant to help you, and I donotwant to quarrel with you.”
“Is that not what we are best at?” she challenged, her chest rising and falling with the swell of their agitated voices. “All we have done, as far as I am aware, is quarrel.”
He snorted, mildly offended by the remark. “I watched you use the lessons I taught you with that lumbering fool of a baron. The ‘stumble and giggle’, if I am not mistaken. A performance that few men can resist.”
“Ididtrip, thank you very much! And I have never in my lifegiggled,” she shot back, patches of pink streaking her cheeks, hiding some of her pretty freckles. “Oh, and the baron is not a lumbering fool; he is actually very pleasant, and surprisingly adventurous. He has already promised to take me on a grand tour of the continent, to taste the cuisines of as many countries as I please.”
He laughed, rolling his eyes. “You are not serious? Lord Tarporley has never been further than Oxford! He will not even scull a rowboat across a lake, he is so deathly afraid of water.”
“You think that is amusing?” She stared at him, clicking her tongue in disapproval.
“No, I do not—everyone has their fears—but Idothink it is rather hilarious that he told you he would take you on a tour of the continent,” Duncan replied, unable to imagine it without laughing again.
The baron was known for being a homebird, sticking to his mother’s side most of the time, and while there was nothing wrong with that, Duncan could not believe the brazenness of the baron’s lie to Valeria. Or, perhaps, the champagne was to blame for such delusions.
“I am going inside now,” Valeria muttered, glowering at him. “I should not have turned around. Goodness, for a duke, you are… you are…”
He grinned. “What?”
“You are rude, and you are infuriating, and if you hate the prospect of me marrying the baron—or the viscount, for that matter—so much, then…” She floundered, blinking rapidly as if she had just been told there was a rather large spider perched on her shoulder, avoiding any sudden movements.
Then… ask me yourself.
Duncan filled in the blanks, the passion of their quarrel deflating. Somehow, it had circled back to the one thing he could not offer. Compared to him, the baron probablywasa safe choice; he was certainly a man willing and eager to make a proposal. Duncan had seen it earlier at the card table: the enthusiasm in William’s demeanor.
“… then that is not your concern,” she concluded, her voice shaky. “It is my choice, my life, my… burden to bear. It is not your place to question it, whether the baron has exaggerated the truth or not.”
“You would wed a liar?” Duncan asked, his panting breaths matching hers. “You would accept a false promise of adventure?”
“Right now,” she replied, her voice cracking, “I would accept anything that will make everything right again!”
He flinched at the vehement pain in her words, the glitter of sorrow in her eyes. “But that is… so terribly sad.”
“Perhaps it is, but I am not wandering into this obliviously,” she countered, her lip trembling. “I am prepared for a… quieter life. Adventure is a luxury anyway. As long as I have books and friends and somewhere to wander, I will be content enough.”
He clenched his jaw, that small word ‘enough’ sending a shudder of frustration down his spine, tightening his ribcage until itthreatened to crush the breath from his lungs. She deserved so much more than ‘enough’.
“You do not mean that,” he growled, his hand reaching for her, sliding up the side of her neck.
