Something like delight touched the duke’s expression, quick and sharp.
“Is it?”
“Yes,” she said, and then began to second-guess herself. “Yes?”
“It was,” he corrected, gently. “My cousin and I exchanged rooms after supper. His window takes the wind. I dislike being kept awake by draughts.”
Cousin. Of course.
But how on earth was she meant to know that before?
She had chosen a kind man because kindness might force itself to the altar for her. Instead, she had found the kind man’s cousin, London’s most notorious rake, smirking back at her.
“You meant to be found,” he said softly. “Is that correct?”
“I did not… I mean, I hoped… I thought only…” Panic battered her ribs.
He exploded into laughter, wiping the sides of his eyes. “Oh, my my.”
“No one will be hurt. Only me. That is…th-that was the idea,” Maria was rambling now.
“That is a novel interpretation of scandal.”
“I don’t…” Her breath hitched. “I don’t know your rules.”
In truth, she hardly had any real understanding of what the word scandal even denoted. For all she knew, it was a way to secure a match. And Violet had said that the ton talks about everyone anyway, so it should not come at that much of a personal cost.
But what she did know was that rakes were notorious for not holding up their end of the promise, assuming that there ever is a promise to begin with. She had not meant to meet one. It was Peter whom she was after. The kind one, the one who would offer her his hand in marriage.
“My rules.” He repeated the phrase, smiling. “I suppose I have them.”
He set the candle on the mantel and leaned a shoulder against the bedpost.
“Why me?” he asked. “Curious, of course. You seem like an awfully good type of lady, and I would like to know what drew you to me.”
“I already told you….I thought you were Mr. Morton.”
“Ah.” He considered. “So you preferred him.”
She was not sure if she was imagining things, but he almost sounded a bit offended by the prospect.
“He is kind,” she blurted, then winced.
The duke did not. He looked amused. “He is. But he would likely sleep through the event of you ever sneaking into his chambers. You could knock over a vase, and he would not be any wiser of your presence.”
“I cannot be caught with you,” she said desperately, forcing herself to look only at his face. “You would— you would never— You are a rake.”
“How industrious the house has been on my behalf.” He pushed away from the bedpost and came nearer. "Your education is insufficient, Miss Havenford. Rakes may be many things; some of us are particular about what we ruin.”
Her back found the screen. “I should go.”
“You should.” He did not move aside. “But not because I wish to keep you. Because every step you take toward the door increases the chance someone sees you leave.”
Her breath stuttered. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” he said, not unkind. “You came to throw yourself on the right man’s mercy and landed on mine. The trouble is, I have very little mercy and a very great deal of pride.”
Her chin rose. “I did n-not come to throw myself anywhere.”