on the tip of her tongue to quip that London made a man weak in the knees. But delicate, well-bred ladies did not mention parts of men’s bodies. Nor did they tease gentlemen, nor poke at their masculinity. They sat and simpered, smiled when they were spoken to, and pretended to be objects of voiceless decoration.
Sarani had never been any good at sitting still or staying quiet. Words were powerful, and she had no intention of being cheated of hers. Not by anyone, not even the man pretending to be her future husband.
Despite being born in Joor and honoring the traditions of her people, Sarani had also been raised by a strong half-Scottish mother whose opinions did not match those of her peers, which was why she’d eloped with the love of her life in the first place. She’d taught her daughter to think for herself and to be resilient and relentless in her goals. That unusual approach had given Sarani an outlook unlike any other woman of her acquaintance.
Unlike proper English ladies.
Then again, most proper girls probably would not have leaped like a freedom fighter into the trenches…spied for a militia, lied through their teeth to avoid an arranged marriage to a jackal, and sent all their pin money to fund their best friend Manu’s efforts against the British.
Maybe that was why Vikram was coming for her.
Treason was punishable by death, wasn’t it?
Sucking in a breath, she lifted her surreptitious gaze to the somber man sitting opposite, wondering for the dozenth time whether she was out of her mind for putting her faith in him. Rhystan wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t even an acquaintance. He was just someone she’d known once, perhaps loved in the most innocent of ways. Someone she might have married under different circumstances.
Had she made the right choice?
It was a loaded question. Before, she’d chosen duty over love, but a part of her always wondered what would have happened if she’d run with him. If she’d said no to her father and asked Sanjay from the Flying Elephant to help her get to him. What would their life have been like? Would they have been happy? Would he have become the same hard, guarded, intimidating man he was now?
The duke’s formidable presence fairly crowded the spacious coach. A pair of gloves along with a satin-trimmed top hat rested on the sliver of bench beside him. His attention remained on the signet ring on his small finger, though she could tell that he was quite distracted by whatever held his thoughts. Judging by the downturned curve of his mouth, it wasn’t good.
Sarani took the rare opportunity to study him.
Inasmuch as the windblown guise of the sea captain suited him, this look of the London gentleman suited him even more. His finely milled, charcoal frock coat fit his broad shoulders to perfection, and contrasting dove-gray trousers hugged the length of his long, muscled legs. Polished Hessian boots peeped out at the hems. He was every inch a duke, and she could not deny that Rhystan wore wealth and elegance well.
Even when he was fastidiously clothed, no one could question the duke’s raw virility, nor the power that lay coiled beneath all those pressed yards of fabric. Danger curled from him in a way that made her blood heat. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a hardened pirate disguised in gentleman’s trappings. Her eyes trailed back up, her mouth going unreasonably dry as her stare collided with his.
A smirk tugged at a corner of his full lips.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked.
Swallowing her mortification at being caught, she lifted her chin on a small huff of air and let a bit of her captive tigress loose. “Shouldn’t I? After all, this isn’t a look I’ve seen before.”
“Look?”
She gestured to his person. “The Duke of Embry, in the flesh.”
“I was a duke on the ship.”
“You were captain on the ship,” she corrected. “This is different. It’s like you’ve put on a costume and you’re about to go on stage.”
“All life’s a stage, my lady.”
Her heart gave a thump at the possessive caress over the last two words. “This isn’t a performance, Your Grace. At least not for you. This is real life. You’re a duke now, and you have responsibilities.”
His mouth tightened as he gave a humorless laugh. “Trust me, Lady Sara, I’m well acquainted with your position on the matter. For you, duty is the death of anything that matters, isn’t it?”
The words cut like daggers, despite being