How to Fool a Duke (The Husband Dilemma #1) - Lancaster, Mary Page 0,23

seemed to accept it, accept me. I could have sworn she was not indifferent, and yet… I kissed her.”

“Did she like it?”

He dragged his hand over his face and sat down abruptly beside her. “I thought so. And then she pulled away, remarked she had always been curious about me and then walked away. As though it meant nothing. As though I meant nothing.”

Lady Whitmore sighed and patted his knee. “Poor boy. I don’t suppose that happens to you very often. But look at it from her point of view. Is that not exactly what you did to her two years ago? Walked away as if she meant nothing?”

He stared at her, frowning. “She was a child. Would it have been honorable to take her as she was?”

“Forget your honor,” Lady Whitmore said impatiently. “Sarah did not consider herself a child. No one does at sixteen. To her, you trifled with her, rejected her, and walked away without a backward glance. It may have been honorable, Your Grace, but it was not kind.”

His frown deepened. “And so, she was playing a game,” he said slowly. “I tried to end it, and she declared victory. Because I gave her what she wanted,”

“And does that victory stand?” Lady Whitmore wondered. “Do you surrender to the chit? Out of honor and kindness, of course.”

Thoughtfully, he smoothed the fabric of his pantaloons. He glanced up and cast her a lopsided smile. “I don’t believe I do. The game does not end until I say.”

Whatever she read in his eyes, caused her fingers to tighten on his knee. She removed her hand. “You will remember to be kind, will you not?”

Whose part did she take in this game? He had no clue as to her ultimate goal. And so, he smiled with a hint of the savagery he felt. “Perhaps that depends on one’s definition of kindness. Allow me to escort you home to the castle.”

***

Sarah picked listlessly at her breakfast the following morning.

When she had come downstairs, the table in the hall had already been full of flowers and cards, acknowledging her success the previous evening. She had not yet looked at them.

This should have been a joyous day of celebration, when she finally put the past behind her and made plans to go home to her parents. To show them what she had become without them.

Ha. It seemed she was still a lost little girl.

But certainly, she needed to get away from Whitmore, from Arcadi, and, most especially, from any sight of the duke. Lady Whitmore would surely convey them to Durham, from where they could easily hire a chaise to Milforth Park, her father’s main seat in Berkshire.

She wished to give no appearance of rushing, but if she spoke to Lady Whitmore today, perhaps two days to pack up the cottage…

She sat back, pushing her still full plate away from her. I shall miss you, little cottage.

In fact, what the devil would she do at Milforth Park? Go to parties? Display all her accomplishments like the plumage of a bird looking for a mate?

I’m not. I don’t want a mate.

Vaguely, she was aware of the maid answering a knock on the front door, of Hammy’s voice in the tiny hall, but she could summon no interest. Perhaps she should walk up to the castle now.

The dining room door opened, and Hammy came in looking flustered. “He’s here, with gifts for you.”

Sarah blinked. “Gifts? Who is here?”

“The duke!”

Blood sang in her ears. She gripped the edge of her seat. “I cannot accept his gifts. Tell him I have gone out or something. What does he want?”

At the last, Hammy smiled. “There is only one way to find out! Make up your mind, Sarah. Ask him, or send him away. But do not be so cowardly as to request me to do it for you.”

Sarah colored, accepting the reproof as fair. Trying to squash the panic, she rose and hastily smoothed her hair—an act that was not lost on the observant Hammy.

“Is he in the parlor?” she asked with a fair imitation of carelessness.

Hammy nodded, and Sarah left the room, trying to slow her breathing and the galloping of her heart. His visit was entirely unexpected. But he could only have come to quarrel, to accuse.

The parlor door was open. She could see the duke standing, gazing out of the window, his hands behind his back. On the table beside him stood a box wrapped in a yellow ribbon and an elegant posy of