“You ruined all my fun, little gnat.”
Her steps halted. “My name is Miss Cosgrove. Please address me as such, Your Grace.”
There was a sudden rush of empathy for Lady Sophia, who would end up married to this cad and doomed to a life at the side of a libertine. “If tonight is any indication of your behavior and lack of respect for your future wife, I pity Lady Sophia. Greatly.” She emphasized the last word.
“Good lord, but you’re tart.” His teeth flashed white in the dim light. “Like a crisp, fall apple.” Roxboro moved closer. “I happen to enjoy apples a great deal. The more sour, the better.”
The duke was good at this, charming ladies to get beneath their skirts. Moments ago, he’d been trying to steal a kiss from Cerise, now he was attempting to charm Helen, but to what end, she’d no idea.
Well, it won’t work.
“You are a cad.” Helen stated firmly and without apology. “A scoundrel of the highest order. A villain.”
“A villain?” Roxboro said above a whisper. “Possibly.”
“Stealing kisses.”
A tiny snicker left him.
“From innocent young ladies. Perhaps their hearts as well.”
“Or other things.”
“Despicable.” She nearly shouted. “And shameless. You are soon to be wed, yet you are slinking about with young ladies other than the one you’re betrothed to.”
It isn’t my fault, Helen. You drove me to it. Had you not been so frigid.
“Shut up, Owen,” she snapped under her breath.
“You’re not about to have a fit of some sort, are you, little gnat?” Roxboro cocked his beautiful head. “You look incredibly unsettled.”
“I am merely overcome with disgust, Your Grace,” Helen tossed at him furiously, recalling how it had felt to be…discarded. Tossed aside after apromisehad been made. A wedding date planned. She didn’t want that for Lady Sophia and would stand in solidarity with Lord Canterbell’s daughter. “You are condescending. Arrogant. Lecherous,” she blew out the last word. “And you lack character.”
“You don’t know me, Miss Cosgrove. But I find you judgmental, all the same.”
“There is quite a bit to judge, Your Grace.” Good lord, what was wrong with her, arguing with a duke? If he took offense and told Galway, she’d be dismissed. Roxboro chafed her, body and soul. Also, the annoying hum hadn’t stopped no matter how she begged it to cease, but instead defiantly slid lower. Which was also Roxboro’s fault.
“I might have the best intentions, Miss Cosgrove. I don’t, by the way. But Imighthave, if given a chance.”
Helen made a piffing sound. “Doubtful.”
“You are such an angry wee thing.” That strange roll to his speech, that rough edge, returned once more, dancing through ever word. “Perhaps that is why you lack companionship.”
Her eyes widened at the incredibly impolite change of topic. “I do not seek it. Not that it is any of your affair.”
“Might do you a bit of good. To have a liberty taken here and there. Might make you less sour. I ’spect you’re the sort that collects butterflies, stickin’ pins in them to admire later.”
Her mouth popped open at his words.
Also….at thelackof several words. He sounded—
“Or embroidery.” He rolled his eyes as if that were the worst possible way a woman might spend her time.
Her anger flared sharply. “There isn’t anything wrong with embroidery. It is a perfectly acceptable pastime.”
Roxboro rolled his shoulders. “I suppose you must do somethin’ while watching others live their lives.”
“You are incredibly unpleasant.” Why was she bothering to argue any point with him? And his speech…“Are you foxed?”