No Duke Will Do - Eva Devon Page 0,33

give you an interesting life. . . and lots of children, I think.”

It was amazing how well Drake seemed to know her.

Well, not really, given the fact he’d spent so many Christmases and holidays with them. . . But this seemed particularly on the mark.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked suddenly.

“Of course, I shall. But don’t you think we’ll shock society?” she whispered sotto voce. “They’ll have us married by morning.”

“I love to shock society,” he said. “It’s the only thing that’s amusing.”

“Well, then, let us do it.”

And he let her out on the floor.

As they began to dance, she swayed with him.

Drake was an excellent dancer, and as he led her about the room in great turning swirls and arcs, twisting her, and leading her about in the elaborate steps, she let out a sigh.

“Oh, dear,” he said. “I think you’ve been struck.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’ve been struck by Cupid’s bow, have you not?”

“You must not ask such things,” she hissed. “And, no, I have not been struck by some plump little fool with his bow and arrow.”

“I think you have,” Drake insisted, undeterred. “You just don’t wish to admit it, and I think you should surrender to it. Who is it? Some notorious little poet, an artist?”

“None of those things,” she quipped.

“But you don’t deny it,” he said, holding them in a pause before whirling them around again.

“I suppose I shan’t, but Rob would be appalled.” She frowned. “He thinks I should marry someone who will protect me and keep me safe.”

“As you should,” Drake agreed. “But none of the men here will protect you or keep you safe in the way you need it.”

“I don’t follow,” she said.

“Well, if you marry one of these fools,” he explained factually, “you’ll be protected and safe in the way that the ton thinks, but after the heir and the spare, I imagine you’ll begin having affairs everywhere, and you’ll be bored, and you’ll see life through a jaded lens and live as many of our set do. . . but you won’t be happy.”

Her heart slammed in her ribs as a grave wave of sorrow crashed over her. What a terrible life that would be.

“Happy,” she echoed. “What is that?”

“Oh, come now, Mary,” he tsked. “You needn’t pretend you don’t believe in happiness at all.”

“Well, I’ve seen little love it in this life,” she said.

Drake locked eyes with her. “That does not mean one should not pursue it.”

“This is the most remarkable thing, coming from you, Drake. You don’t seem to aspire to marriage.”

“Marriage would be a terrible thing for me,” Drake said. “I’m not at all that sort of a fellow. I know my limitations, but marriage, the right marriage, would do you wonders. It would free you, and I think you’d be very happy with this fellow you’ve clearly already chosen.”

“You trust my judgment, then?” she breathed. “Most men don’t trust the judgment of young ladies.”

Drake snorted. “Most men are idiots. Most ladies too, to be fair.”

“Now, now, you mustn’t belabor my sex,” she defended. “I think we do very well, given the constraints we’re put under.”

“Almost certainly true,” he agreed. “Men go about making rules that make women behave in absurd fashions.”

“I’m glad you agree,” she said.

“But you are behaving in an absurd fashion right now,” he said pithily.

She nearly tripped. “I am not,” she said hotly.

“You are,” he insisted, looking down his hawk-like nose. “I think you are in love with someone. I could see it in your bored stance as you gazed about the room, looking at all of us as if we are the most taxing thing in the world. There’s something waiting for you, and you’re not daring to go out and seize it.”

Daring, she thought. She’d dared before.

Did she dare do it again?

“I’ve chosen the responsible path,” she said.

“How very noble of you?” he drawled.

“Don’t say it like that!”

“How else should I say it?” he prompted. “You’ve chosen to sacrifice yourself. You have sacrificed yourself choosing others, and that means you’ve abandoned yourself.”

“I cannot countenance such language,” she chided.

“Why not?” he said with an elegant shrug, which seemed oddly timed to the strings of the orchestra. “It’s true. When you sacrifice yourself, you are abandoning yourself, Mary, and I think that, that is a great sin, indeed. Perhaps the greatest sin I know. You should choose yourself.”

“That is not how life works,” she said flatly.

“Yes, but it should be,” he whispered, leaning down towards her. “Why not choose yourself? I don’t