Chapter 3

The meeting between her father and the Duke was taking longer than she had expected, but then she felt that if they were going to discuss her sister's future, they should take their time and be thorough about it.

Not that she would ever allow her sister to be drawn into such an agreement. But she would prefer to get the confrontation with the Duke over with before her bravado completely deserted her.

Helen hadn't expected the reaction he had evoked in her and found it hard to speak, but now that she knew her sister's plight, such silly emotions had to die so she could protect her.

Just about then, she heard footsteps as the Duke and her father made their way down the stairs. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm as she watched him descend the stairs she had walked a thousand times, marveling at how his aura seemed to dwarf the ancient wood structure.

She agreed wholeheartedly that the Duke was attractive in a way that left one staring in awe. Every movement he made was oddly graceful for such a large man, and the way he filled out his waistcoat gave hints that he might have a well-sculpted body beneath all the proper apparel of gentlemen. She had spotted his large hands when he had sipped tea, and they'd looked calloused with a light dusting of hair, more like a workman's than an aristocrat's.

The Duke cleared his throat, and it had the desired effect of jolting her out of her reverie. She met his gaze, and the amused look in his eyes showed he had caught her gawking at him. She flushed in embarrassment.

Since when did she start having a vivid imagination about the anatomical proportions of gentlemen? She would like to blame it on the fact that she had recently just visited Lady Hamburg's statuary, where she saw a lot of Roman sculptures that exhibited the male anatomy in a tad exaggerated fashion. Exaggerated, because she doubted that the lean figures of the typical English lords, who were given to excess food and drink, could have such a level of muscles. But the Duke looked like he might have a body similar to those of the statues.

The smug smile on the Duke's face seemed to widen, making it obvious that he could discern the path her mind was clearly taking. Her flush intensified till she was sure she resembled a bright red tomato. She tilted her chin and composed herself, despite her embarrassment.

"I fail to see what is so amusing, Your Grace," she said in a voice that was surprisingly steady.

"I am sure that you could guess the cause of my amusement. Surely, you would not like me to say it aloud," he said with amusement in his voice, even though she heard the veiled warning.

He was so clearly enjoying her obvious discomfort. Helen opted to change the topic of discussion.

"Helen, you're being very rude," her father scolded. "Come pour the Duke some tea."

She sighed yet went to obey, resisting the urge to breathe in deeper when the Duke's sandalwood scent permeated the air the closer she got to him.

"Thank you," he told her with a thick voice when she handed the cup to him.

"You're welcome," she answered, nearly breathless.

Their fingers lightly brushed when she moved to hand the cup over to him, and she nearly dropped it at the spark that went through her.

She cleared her throat and returned to her seat, earning a confused look from her sister.

"How was your discussion, Father?"

"It was quite satisfactory if I do say so myself," the Duke replied, smiling triumphantly.

"It was fine, Helen," her father answered. "But that is not talk to concern yourself with. It's men's matters."

"It concerns us when you're deciding our future, Father."

"Helen!"

"No, Father." She shook her head, rising to her feet. "I am telling you that you can't marry my sister off to this man when we barely know anything about him. There are so many other ladies who would be very willing to marry him. He could select a bride among them."

"Yes, those ladies might exist, but none of those ladies have a contract with my family. And you seem to be misunderstanding something. I never came to marry your sister. I want to marry you, my dear," the Duke answered.

Helen stumbled back in shock. "What?"

"You heard me clearly."

"Why would you want to marry me?" she spluttered in surprise.

"It's quite simply because I want to," he answered smugly. "You were so against me marrying your sister, so I decided to listen to you. Isn't that what a good husband does?"

Her mouth opened and closed in rapid succession as she struggled to formulate a response. A snort escaped Margaret's lips, drawing her attention.

Traitor.

"You can't just stroll in here and demand to marry me," Helen argued.

"Would you prefer I marry your sister instead?" he asked with a lazy smile.

"That's not…"

"It's settled, then." He smiled triumphantly.

Helen stared at him in shock.

How could he be so insufferable?

"Margaret, I think we should give the new couple time to get acquainted with each other," her father announced suddenly, rising from his seat.

"Yes, Father," Margaret agreed, rising from her seat and rushing out of the room like there was a fire on her heels.

Traitors.

"I am so going to make sure you regret choosing to marry me," Helen promised darkly when they were alone.

The teasing smirk disappeared from the Duke's face, and his eyes darkened and narrowed in annoyance. He started towards her, his steps slow and purposeful, and even though she wanted to stand her ground, when he neared, she was forced to take a step back and then another until she was standing with her back against the wall with nowhere else to go.

The Duke leaned in closer till the only space between them was a sliver of air. Even then, that disappeared quickly as he leaned in closer.

She knew she should have been afraid because he surpassed her in both size and strength, but instead, she felt a thrill that was completely at odds with the situation at hand. His proximity meant that she was assailed with his unique sandalwood scent and his natural musk, which made her want to breathe in deeper. It was only by sheer will she didn't do it. He smelled so good, she wanted to bite him.

His closeness meant she could feel every hard ridge of his body and the heat coming off him in waves, which sent her heart spiraling, giving her a feeling she dimly recognized to be… desire.

The Duke was obviously not immune. His green eyes were almost black, with his pupils dilated so wide that they shocked her. Her eyes dipped of their own volition down his face, noticing that his nostrils were flared, and his breathing had slightly quickened.

Her eyes dropped to his lips, which were full with an enticing bow on top and oh-so pink, calling to her. They reminded her of a succulent fruit, and she wondered dimly what it would feel like to be kissed by the Duke. As she watched, the said lips were getting closer, and it was clear he was moving to kiss her.

She should have stopped him—at least a logical part of her brain cried for her to stop him—but instead, she closed her eyes in anticipation. Seconds passed, and she felt him grip her jaw, running a finger across her lip, leaving tingles in his wake and then nothing. She opened her eyes and felt the Duke's breath on her ear.

"You said you were going to reject me? I would like to see you try, little one," he said, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers down her spine. "I can see just how much your body sings for mine. Marry me, and you'll never have a cold night again."

"I will never…"

"I will be expecting you for luncheon tomorrow. I'll send my carriage to pick you up an hour before," he stated, calmly rising to his full height. "Don't attempt rebellion by not coming."

With that, he left her and walked out of the drawing room, leaving her a mess of hormones and intense embarrassment.

By the time Helen had gotten herself together, he was long gone. So much for confronting the Duke. She was the one who was reduced to a puddle at his feet.

Her hands touched her lips subconsciously, and even though she hadn't been kissed, her lips tingled. She knew if he had kissed her, she would not have stopped him even though they stood in the drawing room, where anyone could see them—such was his power over her.

* * *

Later that evening, Helen had dinner with the family. She was distracted by her thoughts, and the dining table was unusually quiet, with her father also being unusually preoccupied with picking food and placing it in his mouth with a faraway look in his eyes.

While she was sure that Margaret might not mind having a quiet table at dinner, she preferred to use dinner time for family discussions, since it was one of the few times when the family was together.

"I am going to meet the Duke for lunch tomorrow. I wonder if he mentioned anything of that sort to you, Father?"

"Yes." The Viscount nodded. "He agreed to my proposition that he takes his time to get to know you. I guess this is his way of doing so."

She nodded and was about to say something when she was interrupted by Mr. Biggins, who presented her with a letter from the Duke which had just arrived.

It was an invitation to a meeting at her favorite tea shop for luncheon. She wondered whether he knew that or it just happened to be his favorite tea shop too. The invitation was written in a neat masculine cursive and signed simply as A. O. She wondered if that was his Christian name and decided she would ask him when they met. Maybe even torture him with it, since in her experience, most names that began with the letter O were usually atrocious.

"I was actually very surprised when he said he was offering for you instead of your elder sister. Do you have any idea why he would do that?"

Helen shook her head in denial.

The Viscount turned to Margaret. "This goes back to what I was saying. You have to be more welcoming and sociable to attract good suitors. Under normal conditions, your sister is not supposed to get married before you because it will further reduce your chances of getting married, but this situation has taken the decision out of my hands. You have to do better, my dear girl. Do better."

Helen looked at Margaret, and while her elder sister maintained a stoic expression, there was a sheen of moisture in her eyes, and Helen suspected that Margaret was minutes away from weeping. So, she decided to change the topic.

"How is your venison, Papa? I think mine might be a tad undercooked."

It worked. Her father's face became guarded.

"It is fine as always," he answered, not meeting her eyes. "It suits my palate very well."

"All right."

But she was not quite sure that was completely true because she had noticed a drop in the quality and quantity of the fare they got these days.

She had brought it up to her father and the cook, and they just brushed it aside. Maybe the cook was losing his touch in his old age. Monsieur Frederick had been with them since she was a child, so he might just be suffering the effects of aging.

"Thank you, Father, for the meal. I would like to retire early above stairs," Margaret said, standing up.

He just nodded without looking up as he polished off his coffee and read his newspaper. Helen looked at Margaret's plate and saw that she hadn't eaten much of her meal, but Helen didn't want to draw attention to that to avoid providing further ammunition for her father to scold her sister.

She decided to retire too because she felt Margaret required consolation.

"I believe I will retire too, Father," she said, rising from her seat. "I have an early day tomorrow."

At that, he raised his head. "No stay. I have some things to discuss with you."

She nodded, and Margaret left the room at a sedate pace while Helen reclaimed her seat at the table.

"You are going to be meeting the Duke tomorrow over luncheon, and I would like for you to be on your best behavior and try to get to know him. Also, I'm not unaware of his looks and charm. Don't be foolish, dear girl, and avoid doing anything that would bring you shame and this family ruin," he said with such seriousness that Helen was stunned.

She could not believe how little her father thought of her. There was no way she would succumb so easily to the Duke when she already disliked him with a burning passion.

"Have I made myself clear, Helen?"

She nodded.

Helen fought to maintain a straight face, even though she was boiling inside with rage.

"You know what happens between a man and woman can be very exciting, especially?—"

"You don't need to explain Father. I think I know enough not to get myself ruined. I have married friends, remember?" she said, giving him a reassuring smile.

He heaved a heavy sigh and gave her an apologetic look.

"It is at times like this that I miss your mother," he said with a sad smile. "She would have been best placed to educate you on what to expect in the marriage bed and on proper etiquette, but…" He sobered. "Do I have your word that you will be on your best behavior during your meeting with the Duke tomorrow?"

"Of course, Father. I will just be myself," she said, smiling at her father. "When have I ever not been on my best behavior?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, then shook his head, leaving the dining area with a look of uncertainty that had her laughing. He really did know her so well to know that her promise to be herself was a promise that chaos was going to erupt soon.

Now that she thought about it, she was looking forward to the meeting tomorrow. The Duke was definitely about to get more than he bargained for. A plan was forming in her head that made her grin with evil intent. After what she had planned, he wouldn't waste time dissolving the stupid contract.

She made her way above the stairs, passing by Margaret's room to check in on her. There were tendrils of light seeping beneath the edges of the door. Apparently, Margaret was still awake.

Helen hesitated at the door, debating whether to check in on Margaret or leave her alone and return to her room. A soft sniffle coming from the room made the decision for her. It seemed that her sister was crying.

"Maggie?" she called, knocking on the door. "Are you still awake?"

There was silence, then Helen tried again.

"Are you well?"

Even as she asked, Helen mentally kicked herself.

Of course, she is not well. Who would be when she is being repeatedly degraded for something that is not purely of her making?

"I am well, Helen," Margaret replied. "I am well, so you can go to bed."

Helen opened her sister's door and slipped in, since the thickness of her sister's voice let her know she had been crying for a while. Helen found Margaret in bed still in the clothes she had been wearing at dinner.

When Margaret looked up, her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was puffy. It was obvious she had been crying for a long time.

Helen made her way over, sat at the edge of the bed, and then patted her sister's hand, which sent her into another fit of tears. She waited patiently till the last of the sobs, handing her sister a kerchief.

"I am well now," Margaret told her, but Helen just nodded, sitting still beside her.

They sat in silence for a while, but Helen decided not to push. When Margaret was ready, she would open up to her.

They were silent for so long that Helen almost gave up on Margaret speaking to her, but she was quite content to sit with her sister in silence if that was the emotional support she needed.

"You know," Margaret began with a voice that sounded like it came from somewhere far away, "if someone had told me a few years ago that I would still be here, living with Papa, unmarried and unhappy, I would have laughed it off as a cruel joke. The picture I had then was that by the time I had seen three-and-twenty years on this earth, I would have been married to my betrothed, and I would have had one or two children, living happily while running my own household, with the love of my life by my side. But then Fate is a cruel taskmaster, no?"

Helen rubbed her shoulder in consolation. Of course, she understood firsthand just how fickle fate could be.

Two years ago, Margaret had been madly in love with a lord she had been secretly courting and was looking forward to their happy life together, until disaster struck. When Margaret discovered that love was not all it took to have a happy life, that the opinions of Society could make or destroy a relationship, regardless of one's intentions.

Margaret was so sure she was going to be walking down the aisle, since her betrothed had already informed her papa of his intentions to wed her after a long time. It had taken a lot of convincing, but her papa had finally agreed. He was set to announce their engagement during a ball that was going to be held in his family's home. Margaret had been delirious with joy that she would get to spend the rest of her life with a man she so loved… or so she thought.

The tragic day began as all other days began, normal with clear skies and no hint of rain in sight. There was no inkling that it was going to be the worst day of her life. She had prepared carefully, donning a jade-green dress that had just arrived from the modiste. The dress was made to complete perfection in her opinion, accentuating her green eyes and skin so much that she shone. They'd all rushed to his family's home, and she had been bursting with excitement that was so obvious that everyone had commented that she was basically radiating with it.

She tried to distract herself by making conversations with her friends, but her whole body was giddy with anticipation for the moment when George would announce their engagement and announce to the whole world that he was officially off the marriage mart and that he was ready to begin his journey towards marriage with her by his side.

By the time the second dance was coming to an end, she could not stand still, her eyes searching the room frantically for signs of George, since it was time for him to make the announcement. She could not find him in the crowd, but she became aware of a disturbance in the crowd that began at the entrance of the ballroom and soon spread out to the people beside her as everyone craned their necks while moving towards the balcony to see for themselves the cause of the disturbance.

The increase in the noise level was starting to make Margaret feel uncomfortable, as she was getting a sick feeling in her gut. Something was definitely not right. She fought her way through the crowd till she got to the balcony, and there she received what proved to be the worst shock in her entire two decades of existence.

George was standing in the garden, his hair disheveled like it was caught in something, or more likely someone had run their hand through it, pulling at it. His shirt sleeves were buttoned wrongly, and he had rouge on his lips. A lady she recognized to be Miss Veronica Martins, an American heiress his mother was sponsoring, whom he had claimed to detest severally, was hiding behind him, in a disheveled state as well.

The picture before Margaret was drawing her to a very terrible conclusion, and she shook her head vigorously. Someone was screaming the word "No" repeatedly, and it was some time before she recognized that that person was her.

She could not believe that George was frolicking with Miss Martins, and of all things, he had been caught in a scandal on the day that he was supposed to make one of the happiest days of her life. She screamed till her ears started ringing and darkness crawled into the edges of her vision.

When she woke up again, she was tucked in bed, with Helen holding her hand, a compassionate look in her eyes. Apparently, she had screamed until she swooned, and she was brought back home to rest. Margaret was aware that she was supposed to be mortified, since she had made a spectacle of herself and that she was now going to be fodder for the gossip mill of the ton.

But at that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of betrayal and heartbreak. She had trusted George with every fiber of her being, and she never would have imagined that he could betray her in so callous a manner. She had loved George since she was old enough to know what love was and insisted that there had to be some other explanation for the situation she had encountered, and try as she might, she could not shake the hope that he might be innocent and that everything that had happened the previous night was just that… a big misunderstanding.

By noon, Margaret had already dressed and had asked her maid, Jenny, to apply a little more powder to disguise the dark circles and bags under her eyes. Jenny was quite skilled with the use of cosmetics so that when she was done, there was little evidence that Margaret had spent most of the night and early morning crying.

Margaret arrived at George's house, and she was let in to wait for him in the receiving room. After quite some time, George came down to meet her. He looked remarkably fine compared to her, and she felt like she had been turned inside out.

"George," she greeted, rising from her seat to run to him.

"Margaret," he answered, holding her away from him and looking everywhere else but at her.

There was a long, uncomfortable pause until Margaret decided to break the silence.

"What really happened between you and Miss Martins?" she asked in a shaky voice.

At that, George's face turned red in embarrassment.

"Miss Martins approached me just when I was about to make our engagement public and insisted that she had something of great importance to tell me. I tried to inform her that we would have to reschedule. She burst into tears, so I took her outside, where she then proceeded to kiss me. I tried to push her away, but she held me tightly. We struggled till Mrs. Martins saw us and proceeded to alert her companions to the situation at hand."

Turning to her, he took both her hands and looked at her with so much remorse that Margaret was in danger of forgiving him even without hearing the full story.

"You know I love you, and I would never do anything to hurt you," he said, staring at her with pleading eyes.

She wanted to believe him at all costs

"So you were set up by Miss Martins?

"I'm afraid I was."

"If that is the case, it can be easily resolved. Make an announcement to the ton explaining that it was a mistake."

George shook his head in amazement at her na?veté. "I'm afraid it doesn't work that way. I was caught in a compromising position with Miss Martins. If I do not do the honorable thing and marry her, she will be ruined. Forever. Unable to secure a good match for herself. And I would prefer not to have that on my conscience."

Margaret paled in horror.

"Besides," he continued, looking away and staring at some point beyond her shoulder, "you know my family has been in dire financial straits, and Miss Martins' fortune would definitely come in handy in solving that."

It was at that moment that everything became clear to her. It was all too convenient that he was caught with an heiress who had the key to solving all his financial problems, and even if he was truly trapped, he was all too happy to remain in the trap.

Margaret turned on her heels and fled. Blinded by her tears, she found her way to her carriage. She spent her entire journey back to the manor in heart-wrenching tears, but by the time she had arrived at the manor, a strange numbness enveloped her and continued for the several weeks following the incident. When they attended one of the ton's many balls, and George and Miss Martins, now Lady Wesley, were in attendance. She watched him pander to his wife's whims, and the wall that protected her heart melted like it was never there, and she fled.

That night, she broke down again in the privacy of her bedroom because she had attached herself to a man who abandoned her, and she developed an inability to move on, even though he had crafted a satisfactory life for himself.

She would love to be able to stop her heart from hurting, but she had come to realize that when the heart loved very deeply, it was not easy to just stop. But perhaps it was time she moved on despite the pain, and her father's scolding today had driven that home. She could not afford to allow her pain to turn her into a selfish and irresponsible person. Her sister didn't deserve that.

* * *

"You know I don't usually care about Father's scolding. I… I don't know why I am a watering pot now," Margaret said while wiping her tears with her hands.

Helen didn't bother asking what she was talking about, but she understood.

"Maggie dearest, nobody truly gets used to being scolded—we just ignore it. But you are human, and you cannot be strong all the time even if you want to. I can't tell you how sorry I am for my part in this whole mess. I don't know why Father insists on comparing you to me. You are amazing, Maggie, and I have always looked up to you, and I'm sorry if you have been made to feel less because of me," she said, hanging her head in guilt.

There was a moment of silence, and then Helen felt Maggie's hand on her chin, tipping it so she looked into her eyes.

"Helen, this whole situation does not have anything to do with you." Helen made to protest, but Margaret raised a hand to stop her. "Let me finish. Father only scolds me because he is frustrated and worried about my unmarried state, and you shouldn't blame him. You know how society treats unmarried ladies. I do wish I could just marry any gentleman, but I don't fancy anyone of them, and the one I do fancy is not mine. I do believe I might have to settle for a marriage of convenience. After all, that is what members of the ton do all the time. No?" she said, smiling ruefully.

"Helen, I'm the one who is supposed to step up to honor the contract Father had with the late Duke, but I shirked my duties for a… delusion, leaving you, my younger sister, to bear the consequences of my choices. I am really sorry."

Helen smiled at her sister, Margaret opened her arms, and Helen embraced her.

"We are really quite a pair, aren't we?" Helen chuckled. "It is amusing how this society continues to deny women the right to choose their spouses with their ridiculous laws. That is our reality. But we will be fine"

"Yes, we will be," Margaret agreed softly, her eyes clouding in introspection.

Worried that her sister was retreating into her shell, Helen decided to change the topic.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm going to make sure that the Duke regrets the day he conceived the idea of marrying me."

"How do you propose to that?" Margaret asked with a curious furrow on her brow.

Helen sat up, making herself comfortable on the bed as she continued, "We all know that our Duke is fastidious and a stickler for propriety." She looked at Margaret in expectation. She only got a blank stare in return.

"Well, you tell me. I had never noticed the man prior to our meeting earlier today. Of course, I have heard of the Ruthless Duke, but I could never point him out in a room filled with people," Margaret replied

"Well, he is," Helen continued, "and I am counting on that one trait to save me from this marriage."

She gave a triumphant smile.

"How do you intend to do that?"

"It is quite simple. I will simply embarrass the Duke with my atrocious manners so that he will have no choice but to end the marriage."

Margaret sat up, shocked. "Helen, you're not serious."

"Oh, but I am. The Duke wants the perfect Society wife—graceful, hospitable, and at least average-looking. He seeks to marry me because he feels I fit those criteria. My aim, therefore, is to dissuade the Duke from marrying by becoming the polar opposite of his ideal wife," Helen said in excitement.

But Margaret did not share her excitement. Her brow furrowed in concern "I think such a plan will severely damage your reputation, and remember, he is a duke. He could weather any scandal that comes his way—he has been doing it for several Seasons, weathering scandals that would have crippled lesser men. I am afraid the same cannot be said for us."

Trust Margaret to be sensible at all times. She had always been the more levelheaded of the pair of them. While Helen was more prone to making impulsive decisions, Margaret was the type to analyze a situation thoroughly before making decisions.

"Don't worry, I will be careful," Helen said with a reassuring tone

"Remember, if everything goes south, I could always step up and marry the Duke. He can't be all that bad."

"I am sure he is all that is said about him and more," Helen replied.

* * *

Helen woke up that morning with a strange excitement within her to execute her mischievous plans. She had barely been able to sleep the night before as she plotted.

She was going to make sure that he regretted the day he stepped his Hessian-covered feet in her home to enforce that ancient betrothal contract. She had come up with new ways to torture the lofty and mighty Duke of Blackhill.

He was called the Ruthless Duke, and she was counting on that "ruthlessness" to get herself out of this situation. Her simple plan was to embarrass him so much that he would be forced to cut ties with her family for good, but she had to be careful so as not to ruin her family's reputation.

From her observation of the Duke over the years, she was able to come to one conclusion—the Duke cared about appearances a lot. That was why he attended the affairs of the ton even though he always looked like he was dying of boredom. He was a man who wanted to marry her because he thought she was the belle of the ton—hence the perfect hostess and partner to rule his dukedom. So her plan was to systematically dismantle that impression of her until he had no choice but to look for another gracious lady to accept the role of his Duchess.

Besides, he shouldn't even care if she happened not to be his bride, since he had made it clear he was marrying just for political reasons. Any well-bred gentlewoman could play that role as well as her.

Helen snuck out of the house before the Duke's carriage arrived to pick her up. She went on to visit her friends, who hadn't heard anything new about the Duke's bride.

"Am I terrible for wishing she was ugly?" Joana sighed.

"I do not think so at all." Ariadne frowned. "I would still hate her, though."

Helen tried not to look guiltily at her friends. If they knew it was her, she wondered what they would say.

She bid them goodbye not long after and arrived at least thirty minutes after noon.

When trying to annoy a fastidious duke, why not start with unapologetic tardiness?

She walked into the tea shop, making a point to look around for the Duke. She caught the eye of the shop owner—the shocked look on her face was priceless and comical. It was a miracle that Helen did not burst into laughter.

She finally caught the Duke's eye. His eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion. She almost pitied the man. It was probably difficult for him to reconcile the woman walking towards him and the one he met at her father's townhouse. But by the time she got to the table, his expression had turned enigmatic

"Your Grace," she said with an exaggerated curtsy. It was a wonder she didn't fall down flat on her face.

"Good day, Miss Helen," he answered distractedly. His eyes were locked on her hair. "That is an interesting thing you did with your hair," he said with a sarcastic curl to his lips.

Interesting was definitely one way to describe her appearance because she knew she looked deliciously… atrocious. She had styled her hair into a multitude of curls that she hoped resembled something out of nightmares that, in combination with the puce-colored day dress she wore, she was sure anyone would call interestingly atrocious. And she thought she was having the desired effect because the store owner and other patrons of the shop kept looking at her with undisguised shock. The Duke, on the other hand, was handling it quite well—too well, in fact. She decided it was time to push the table a little bit.

She sat down and smiled innocently at him. "It's a beautiful day we're having, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he agreed. "Shall we order?"

She nodded and, already knowing what she intended to order, signaled to one of the staff, ordering the shop's largest loaf of bread. Then she proceeded to consume it in large chunks while the Duke watched her with amused interest.

"You seem to love bread a lot," he commented, buttering a perfect slice.

"I do actually," she replied. "I hope you don't mind my table manners. I have always been told that I never eat in a ladylike manner. It has always been a matter of concern to my father, but I never understood why I shouldn't eat to my satisfaction simply to please Society."

"Well, I agree. I had never liked ladies who eat barely enough to keep a bird alive. I believe a real woman should eat properly," he replied.

She tried not to let her disappointment show but was secretly impressed that the Duke was proving to be more open-minded than she had thought, but then she was ready to explore another angle. Most men of her acquaintance rarely forgave a blow to their egos, so her next goal was to deliver a blow to his ego

"Your Grace, the note you sent me was signed A. O. I assume that the O is for Oswald, but what might the A be? Albertus, Albany?"

His lips just curled up in amusement.

"Americus? Asparagus?"

At that, he threw his head back and laughed heartily for several minutes. Helen was particularly startled by that picture. In all the years she had seen the Duke, she had never seen him laugh that heartily, and God did it do wonders for his face.

He was already lethally attractive, but something about his laughter tugged at her heartstrings. It was a deep baritone that sent vibrations through her body. She felt a deep sense of pride that she had been able to make him laugh but shook the thought out of her mind.

Gradually, his laughter subsided, and he wiped the corners of his eyes. A look around confirmed that she was not the only one who was surprised by the Duke'slaughter.

"Asparagus? Really? Who would name their child after a vegetable?" he said while wiping some tears at the edge of his eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I have a perfectly boring Christian name. Alexander. You could address me as Alex. My friends do, and we are going to get married, so we should dispense with all these formalities, don't you think?"

Helen was still too shocked to provide an answer. This whole situation was not going the way she had envisioned. She had started the maligning of his Christian name to annoy him, but instead, it amused him. But then she was nothing if not tenacious, and she was definitely going to get a rise out of him if it was the last thing she did. She had gone through a lot of trouble preparing for this charade to let it go to waste.

She signaled to the servers, and they brought the tea tray.

"Did I ever tell you that this was my favorite place in the whole of London, Your Grace?" she said, smiling cheerfully—maybe too cheerfully, since he was looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"This tea shop?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered, waving off the server that tried to pour the tea. "They have the best tea in the whole of London."

She made a show of pouring the tea for him and knocked over the glass of water, whose contents spilled on his trousers.

"Oh dear!" she said with feigned concern, coming over to his side of the table, and using the paper towels to mop the water off his clothes. The Duke just looked at her suspiciously and assured her that he could take care of himself.

She returned to her seat, apologizing, then suggested they take their tea. The Duke agreed, for it would give his trousers time to dry a bit before he returned home.

Helen resumed sitting, cradling her tea cup with an innocent look on her face.

"Why do I believe that this was no accident at all?" he asked with a knowing smirk on his face.

Helen made a point of looking anywhere but at his face. "I don't think I take your meaning, Your Grace."

"I am sure you do," he said with an indulgent smile.

Helen stood up. "While I enjoyed this outing, Your Grace, I fear I have to return home. My Father might be beside himself with worry."

"I highly doubt that, but I am ready to go home. I don't particularly fancy sitting here in my wet clothes. I could drop you off at your manor. It is just on my way."

Helen nodded and went to pick up Rose, her lady's maid, from where she sat conversing with the store owner. They headed outside to meet the Duke, who was already waiting. He helped her into the coach.

The ride was uneventful, with her preoccupying herself with studying the landscape while he read through the papers. When they got to the manor, she thanked him while he helped her down from the coach. When she had her feet firmly on the ground, she walked closer to the Duke and plastered on her best smile.

She said, "Thank you for this outing, Your Grace. I am sorry for how it played out, but it was nice coming here with you."

"I enjoyed myself too. Since we both enjoyed ourselves, what do you say we meet tomorrow for a promenade along the serpentine at Hyde Park?" he asked with a knowing smile on his face.

Helen was so shocked by that unexpected response, she blurted out the first response that occurred to her

"No."

At that, his smile disappeared, and the predatory gleam replaced it, and he approached her.

"Why?" he asked in the low timbre that always sent shivers down her spine.

Rose noticed her mild trembling. "Are you cold, Miss? I left your coat at home. Silly me," she said, before rushing into the manor, leaving Helen alone with the Duke.

Helen turned to him, and he raised a single eyebrow in question

"I… I just…" she trailed off.

She noticed he was stalking her, and she initially moved backward until her back was pressed against the coach. She had noticed she was always ending up in this position with the Duke. It was fast becoming a habit.

That was her last coherent thought before her mind was scrambled up by his increased proximity. She just stared into his eyes. The hungry gleam in his eyes and the way he kept staring at her lips made her decide that he obviously wanted to kiss her… badly.

His face kept coming closer till their breaths were mingling, and his scent surrounded her. She closed her eyes in anticipation for the kiss, but instead, she felt his breath on her ear.

"Helen," he said in a husky tone, "I know what you want."

Yes, a kiss,her body screamed.

"It won't work," he said, before turning to climb into the coach.

It took her time, after she had gotten her rioting body back to order, to understand that he wasn't talking about a kiss but the fact that he understood her game.

Helen walked into the manor in a daze. It took Margaret calling her name several times to drag her out of it.

"I am sorry, Maggie. I was distracted. I didn't hear you call me," she apologized.

"Distracted? I am sure that is one way to describe it," Margaret said, giving a detailed perusal of Helen's outfit. "I am guessing the get-up was for the Duke's benefit." She chuckled. "How did he take it? I really hope you succeeded because you sure went to a lot of trouble to scare the Duke away."

"That is the problem, he took it too well," Helen huffed, dropping onto the sofa with a pout.

"Well, did he fall on his knees and profess his undying love for you and his partiality to orange-colored hair?" Margaret asked, laughing.

Helen gave her a warning look. Margaret tried to stifle her laughter by placing a hand over her mouth, but she burst into laughter whenever she took a look at Helen—she could not help it.

"Sorry," she said when she finally got herself under control. "Where did you find such bright-colored dye anyway?"

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Helen replied, looking away.

Margaret snorted. Helen gave her a sideways look, and Margaret waved her hands in apology while trying to get her mirth under control.

"While I am happy to entertain you, I am not finding this situation particularly funny. The Duke is such a stubborn oaf. Even after I went to great lengths to make a spectacular fool of myself, he still insists on a promenade tomorrow morning," Helen grumbled, with a sullen look on her face.

"I think it might not hurt to give him a chance—he might actually like you."

Helen snorted in disbelief. "More likely he is planning to drown me in the serpentine."

Margaret highly doubted that was the case. While Helen was trying very hard to deny it, even a blind person could sense the chemistry between them. She could detect the high flush on her sister's face that confirmed the Duke affected her profoundly even though Helen would prefer to ignore it.

In Margaret's opinion, the Duke was not half bad. He looked responsible. If not for her feelings for another man, she would have been happy to let him court her, but she believed her sister and the Duke had the potential to be deliriously happy together if they could put their egos aside.