Cathy hated being ordered, but she quickly moved aside. The Duke gripped the handle and pulled. The door did not move at all. He pulled again, his muscles bunching beneath his shirt. Then, he pulled even harder.
“It is locked,” he muttered, looking dazed. “Somebody locked it from the outside.”
Cathy stepped back, suspicion forming in her head. She remembered her grandfather’s timely search for his cat. Then, her grandmother agreed with him that the cat must have gone to the library. How would they know that? How would they agree with each other so quickly?
“Oh no,” she moaned. “They would not.”
“Who would not?” Tristan asked, finally stepping away from the door.
“My grandpapa and grandmama,” she whispered, her face burning with shame and fury. “I have a suspicion that they are behind this. But why would they do this? Could it be that they are trying to compromise us?”
“Yes, your grandfather played it well, too,” Tristan chuckled bitterly. “He said that Brandon was here when I looked for him. Perhaps they are looking to trap us into marriage. Still, they should have chosen a better man for you. I am marrying Miss Longrove tomorrow.”
“Why are you here, then? Why are you not in the parlor, playing games with her?” she challenged. “I hear people want to spend a lot of time together when they are in love.”
“Oh, do not get me wrong; I do not love her, Miss Quinten. She is simply the perfect candidate. She is quiet and poised. The perfect duchess if ever there was one. She knows how to talk to the right people, and knows whennotto speak.”
That sounded like an insult to her, and her anger spread in several directions: toward her own dear family members and this rake who spoke of perfect duchesses, as if he had not caused enough scandal in theton.
“Well, you two make a lovely pair!” Cathy exclaimed sarcastically. “I want it to be clear that I had nothing to do with this awful plan. Even if you were free to marry, I would never marry you, even if you were the last man on earth.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” Tristan demanded, coming closer. She shuddered at his proximity, but was afraid that it might not be because of revulsion. He had managed to turn them around in this little dance, and her back was against the locked door. “You have not even tried.”
“I... I do not understand,” she stammered, trying to avoid his gaze but failing.
“I do have some good qualities, Miss Quinten,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower. The vibration made her skin prickle. It was not enough for him, it seemed. He reached out to cup her jaw, his rough thumb tracing the soft skin as if it belonged to him. “I am loyal to my friends. I am honest, and I can be quite persuasive.”
“Persuasive? How exactly do you use that, Your Grace? Do you also include drinking a cellar dry? Making a spectacle of yourself?”
With every word that came out of her mouth, Cathy felt even more guilty. It was her father she thought of when she said those things. Both she and her father had made spectacles of themselves. It was not just the Duke.
“No, let me show you what I mean.”
This time, though, Tristan did not answer with words. Instead, he reached out and cupped her jaw. To her surprise, she did not recoil. His hands were calloused for a duke, and gentle for a rake. It was then that she realized she liked the roughness. When he leaned down to press his mouth to hers, she just let him.
It was not a chaste kiss, not at all. Instead, it was hungry and feral. Her first instinct was to fight back, but the moment he deepened the kiss, she was caught. Everything seemed to sway around her. Her hands were meant to push him away, but they grabbed his lapels instead. Yes, she was pulling him closer as she surged forward. A moan erupted from her throat as their tongues touched. His lips swallowed the broken sound.
At that moment, she forgot everything else. She could no longer think of the scandal, her father’s drinking, and everything else that hinged on her behaving like a proper lady. She was too focused on his lips against hers and the solid planes of his chest that pressed her against the wood behind her. For the first time, she found herself not wanting to escape.
When he finally pulled away from the kiss, his breath came in pants. Her breath was just as ragged. Then, he looked at her, searching her eyes for an answer to his question. “Did that persuade you?”
Cathy’s face turned red. She realized what the kiss was all about, and it felt like a resounding slap. The Duke was not caught upin an act of passion, but was merely proving a point. She shoved him as she tried to take back some of her shredded dignity.
“No,” she snapped. She was shocked and even more embarrassed to find her voice shaking. “I was not persuaded, and I find it appalling that you stand in front of me the day before you are to be married, and kiss me. The scandal sheets were right about you.”
“Your mouth responded differently,” he remarked. “It was telling me something else.”
“I...” Cathy cried. “My mouth was merely startled by your... your lack of character, Your Grace!”
Silence fell between them. She was afraid she was leaning back into the false intimacy that had made her kiss him in the first place, and she did not trust herself with what she would do if he touched her again.
“I told you I do not want to marry Miss Longrove,” the Duke repeated his sentiment from earlier. “In fact, I do not want to marry at all. My life is all about meetings and ceremonies. That is not the life I wanted.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
He paused, clenching his jaw so hard she swore she could hear his teeth grinding together.
“Despite what you think about me, I am a man of my word. My mother used her final breath to ensure I marry a woman of impeccable standing so that I would provide the Baxter line with an heir. Marrying Miss Longrove is simply a way to fulfill my promise to her. But sometimes I feel... I feel that I am making a terrible mistake.”