“Oh, no.” She was horrified that she would damage the coat. “I’m dripping wet, and your coat is much too fine—”
“Take it, Miss Sheridan. I insist. I won’t have you catching cold.”
“I ’aven’t been sick a day in my life,” she protested. “We Sheridans ’ave sturdy constitutions.”
“Nonetheless, you are soaked through and shivering,” he said gently.
She realized that he was right. And his jacket was seductively warm, the wool smelling of…him. Of a mix of expensive spice, leather, and male that made her heart speed up whenever she caught a whiff. Goose pimples prickled her skin, the tips of her breasts stiffening beneath her wet bodice.
She clutched the lapels together over her bosom. “I’m obliged to you. I’ll clean your coat before returning it.”
“No need. My valet will take care of it,” he said.
He flicked a few droplets off his waistcoat, which was woven out of tobacco brown silk and had a subtle striped pattern. Without his frock coat, his brawny virility was even more apparent: the heavy width of his shoulders and chest, tapering down to his lean torso and hips. His water-splotched buff trousers clung to the ridges of his thighs and calves before tucking into his tall boots.
He rolled up his wet shirtsleeves, revealing corded forearms dusted with dark hair. His hat lay on the bank where it must have fallen during the battle with the fish. A breeze stirred the thick, precisely clipped layers of his hair and the edges of his bronze silk cravat.
Beneath his sheath of elegance, she glimpsed a dangerous edge to his masculinity. An animal sensuality lying behind his ducal restraint. With his raw power, he could have been a blacksmith or a prize fighter.
If only ’e were something other than a duke, she thought glumly. Then ’e wouldn’t be so far out o’ my reach.
His gaze swept the length of her, and her cheeks burned. Of course he would find her disheveled and in her most-mended dress, which she’d been meaning to dye since it had faded to a nondescript beige. It still bore the ash stains from the barn fire since she’d decided to wear it on her fishing expedition before washing it. She looked down past her dirty skirts to her bare toes curling in the grass. If one could spontaneously combust from shame, the ashes that were once Fancy Sheridan would be floating away on the breeze.
“Do you, er, fish often, Miss Sheridan?”
His inquiry broke the awkward silence.
“Yes, sir—I mean, Your Grace.” Desperately, she tried to think of something else to say. “It’s for my family’s supper.”
His gaze flicked to the basket of trout. “That’s quite a catch you have.”
“My brothers ’ave ’earty appetites. They’re ’ungrier than a pack o’ dogs. I ’ave four o’ them.”
“Dogs?”
She blinked. “Brothers.”
“Ah.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “I am glad to run into you today, Miss Sheridan.”
“You are?” she said in surprise.
“I have been hoping for a chance to get better acquainted.”
Foolish hope sparked in her chest. “You want to get acquainted…with me?”
He nodded, the sunlight picking out glints of coffee-brown in his black hair. “I am a stranger here, Miss Sheridan, and could use a friend. An ally.”
Understanding snuffed out her giddiness. As a daughter of a tinker, she knew when someone was bartering with her. There was only one thing she had that the Duke of Knighton wanted, only one reason why he would wish for her to be his ally.
“You want me to ’elp you with Bea,” she said flatly.
The flicker of his thick lashes conveyed his surprise at her directness. Did he think she was stupid just because she didn’t come from his class? Hurt pinpricked her heart. In the stories she wove, her prince always saw through her ordinary façade, sensing something special beneath. And he didn’t try to use her to win her friend’s hand.
See? she told herself. You’re just infatuated with ’im. You don’t really know ’im.
“I appreciate your candor, Miss Sheridan,” Knighton said smoothly. “And your loyalty to Lady Beatrice. Because you are a good friend, I am certain you want what is best for her.”
“And you think you are what is best for Bea?” she asked.
“I’m offering her one of the highest titles in the land, along with the fortune and privileges that go with it,” he said with a confidence she wished she didn’t find so appealing. “And, unlike my rival, I’ve been honest and clear about my expectations for marriage.”