Chapter 6

CHAPTER6

“Have you truly nothing to occupy yourself, other than eavesdrop upon guests?” Agnes replied sharply, keeping her back to the Duke. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her brought low, her eyes stinging with tears she could not afford to spend.

“I was not eavesdropping.” He sounded offended. “I was passing on my way to the chambers I usually occupy, for I left a book there the last time I was here. I doubt you have heard of it.”

“Of books?” she shot back, struggling to calm her breathing. “Oh, I am certain I have heard mention of such things. They are small piles of paper, bound together, etched with these inventions called “words,” are they not?”

His soft laughter shivered up the back of her neck, chasing a current of tingling heat. He was not standing close enough for her to feel the tickle of his breath upon her skin, but her mind paid no heed to logical things like distance and physical possibility. Somehow, she could feel that warm air, a tender caress but treacherous, like embracing someone, only to have one’s pocket picked as they returned the embrace.

“I recently acquired an edition of the Marquis de Sade’s work,” the Duke continued, the pride in his voice cooling that sudden flush of heat. “Do you know of his work?”

She finally turned, leveling a hard glance at him. “Only to use as kindling,” she said tightly. “His work is monstrous which tells me all I need to know about those who read it. Unless, of course, you are mentioning his name to see if you can shock me, and you own an edition as more of a prop than actual reading material?”

His eyes widened for no more than half a second, his mouth parting in astonishment, his neck jolting back slightly, but it was just a fleeting moment of surprise from him. He recovered quickly, running a hand through his silky curls and putting on a charming smile.

“You think I do this often?” he challenged.

“I have no doubt about it.”

This time, his eyes creased as if in anger. “I find it worthwhile to read everything that one can, even if one does not agree with the content. If you do not educate yourself upon the opinion of others, how can you ever hope to have a broad grasp of the world as a whole?”

“A noble notion,” Agnes replied evenly, “but there are some things that one does not need to read, for that would only breed encouragement, and in regard to the likes of that awful Marquis, I think it is best that no one finds inspiration in his work. Now, I cannot say that I agree with censorship or the forbidding of certain books, but there are exceptions that I believe should never see the light of day.”

The Duke frowned, running his tongue slowly across his lower lip, deep in concentration. Or consternation—she could not quite tell. However, she could see that she had unsettled him, likely knocking him off his usual course of flirtation by not bending to his tactics.

“You are… quite unusual,” he said, at last.

“In the complimentary fashion or the insulting kind?”

He smiled, and for a brief few seconds, her heart fluttered the way it had when she first set eyes upon him. Truly, he had one of the most remarkable smiles she had ever witnessed, for it seemed to light him up from within, like he carried a candle in his chest and the curving pull of his lips was the taper, igniting it.

“I have yet to decide,” he answered, seeming genuinely unsure.

She nodded. “Well, while you are deciding, might I urge you to toss your edition of that book into the nearest fireplace and never speak of it again. Some ladies might find a thrill in being shocked, but a gentleman such as yourself ought to feel confident enough in his conversational skills to charm a lady without resorting to the use of cheap, nasty artifices.”

His smile faded, hardening into a frown that bordered on a glare. “And you ought to be more careful with what you say in conversation, lest a gentleman should find you to be… unpleasant. It would be a shame to spoil your prettiness with the ugliness that leaves your mouth.”

My prettiness? Agnes was not certain she had heard him correctly but could not bring herself to ask him to repeat himself.

“If a gentleman finds my opinion and my repartee unpleasant or ugly, then I would not wish to be seen as pretty by such a man,” she said instead though her heartbeat quickened, and her stomach roiled, twisting itself into strange knots of pleasure and disapproval.

Once again, he appeared to falter. But then, a dark, smug smile replaced the lovely one that had made her breath shallow. “Surely, your mother desires to see you wed?”

“My prospects do not concern my mother, Your Grace,” Agnes replied, fearing the turn this conversation was about to take. Clearly, he had been eavesdropping. “Our mutual concern is solely for Rose’s future.”

“So, she has given up on you, ordaining you for spinsterhood?”

Agnes shrugged. “To give up on something, you must first have chance and opportunity. As I have had none of either, it cannot be called surrender. It is just… the way of things, and not a destiny I mind.” She forced a smile though she feared she must look rather mad. “As long as Rose is happy, I shall be.”

“Balderdash.”

“Pardon?”

“Balderdash,” he repeated. “No lady can be content without a dash of romance in her life. If you insist otherwise, I will call you a liar.”

Agnes met his haughty gaze. “As you said yourself, I am unusual. And as I said, there are always exceptions.” A smile tugged at her lips, curving freely. “Perhaps, you are displeased that I am an exception, and that your usual book of trickeries has no effect on me whatsoever. Looking as you do, I suppose you are accustomed to ladies fainting at the sight of you. Yet, what is this?” She paused, placing her hands upon her thighs. “Not even a tremble, Your Grace.”

The Duke stared at her for so long, standing frozen on the spot, that she wondered if she had broken him. Waiting for some flicker of life, she found it hard to believe that he had never encountered resistance or indifference before. But, of course, high society was a world she knew so little about—maybe, she really was the strange one for not immediately falling head over heels.

Even if my traitorous heart did flutter a bit, her mind whispered, for it was still fluttering now as she awaited his reply.

“George,” he said, finally.

“Excuse me?”

He cleared his throat. “My name is George. You should address me by my name.”

“Oh, I could not possibly do that, Your Grace,” she insisted, for calling a man by his name was an intimacy she was not prepared for. The request alone felt scandalous. “I would not have you, or anyone else, think me too uncivilized to manage honorifics.”

His brow furrowed as if he was in pain. “And if I demand it?”

“I shall have to continue to refuse,” she replied, feeling a little dazed, her lips and tongue eagerly wondering what it would be like to speak his name aloud.

An odd sound growled in the back of his throat. “You realize that I am capable of helping or hindering your sister’s prospects, and the direction I choose might very well hinge upon your behavior toward me?”

“I do, but… I see you, Your Grace.” Agnes took a bold step forward and raised her hand as if she intended to touch the spot just above his heart. She brought her palm as close as she dared, holding it a finger’s width above his chest as she lifted her gaze to meet his once more.

His breath caught as his own gaze dropped, staring at her hand as if she had struck him. “You… see me? What is that supposed to mean?”

She might have been imagining it, but she could have sworn she heard a note of trepidation in his voice, like a thief who had been discovered in hiding.

“I choose to believe you are a decent gentleman as I trust in Lady Finch, who must have a reason for favoring you,” she explained, steeling her nerves. “And the gentleman that I believe you to be would not threaten me or my sister.”

His eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

“Indeed.” Agnes dipped her head in a small gesture of respect. “But if my behavior displeases you, then we do not need to interact. You help Rose, I shall help Rose, and we can do so without ever speaking to one another again. If conversation is demanded through necessity, I will be nothing but civil. Perhaps, you will even begin to wonder if you ever witnessed anything unusual about me at all, for I shall be as quiet as a church mouse.”

It was not in Agnes’ nature to submit, nor would she accept that she was doing so, but the moment the Duke had even hinted that he might thwart Rose’s future, panic took over. If George wanted her to be the meek and obedient kind of lady that he was obviously accustomed to, then the sisters were doomed, but Agnes could at least promise to be quiet. After all, it was her mouth that got her into trouble.

He nodded back, apparently pleased, but there was no satisfaction in his pensive stare. “We shall see,” he said, rubbing his forefinger across his chin.

It made him look all the more like a sculpture, conjuring a vision in Agnes’ mind of him posing like that while a sculptor created a masterpiece that every lady in England and beyond would flock to behold.

“We shall see?” She shook the thought away.

George smiled slyly. “We shall see if you are capable of being quiet. I wager you cannot last an hour at the main house.”

“In the spirit of fairness, I assume I do not have to begin my silence yet?”

He inclined his head, confirming.

“Then, what shall you win if I fail, and what shall I win if I succeed in my silence past that hour?” Agnes knew she ought to hold her tongue, but the curiosity was too tempting. Perhaps, she had inherited that from her mother.

George chuckled, all of the threat gone from his demeanor. Yet, somehow, that unnerved Agnes more than if he had continued to demand obedience.

“I will grant you until we depart for the Marquess’ manor to decide on your prize. As for mine, I will tell you only if I win,” he replied, spiking fresh anxiety into the depths of Agnes’ stomach where it whirled among the tempest that already brewed there.

She eyed him warily. “Nothing untoward, of course.”

“Nothing untoward,” he parroted, but the glint of mischief in his eyes said otherwise.